Previously I have discussed the many complexities of underwear shopping. First there’s the teensy knickers that leave your bottom looking like two enraged sows simultaneously trying to escape through a cat flap. Then there’s the issue of suspenders. (When to admit you don’t really understand how they work and at what point to ask what...
January is the worst month of year. After a drunken chorus of Auld Lang Syne when the clock chimes midnight on the 1st, we’ve all slumped into a doom filled cloud of misery by the 3rd. Lying in a pile of discarded diet menus and Christmas credit card bills it’s hard not to feel that...
Despite not being in one for a considerable length of time, I have every faith that a good long term relationship is like one of those very expensive duvets from the White Company. Secure, comfortable and still kind of sexy if worn with nothing underneath. When the time is right, I think the whole she...
It is my firm belief that nobody in the history of the world has ever visited a gym they joined as a New Year’s resolution. Packed with sweaty bodied angry folk feigning exercise enjoyment whilst secretly calculating how many pies they can scoff later, everyone knows they are protein shake selling temples of doom. Yet come...
My underwear drawer is a sad state of affairs. Buried under a mini avalanche of hand scribbled stories, ill advised mini skirts and make up that exploded on a plane once and was never adequately repaired, I consider it a good day if I manage to find some that actually fits. But this year I’m discarding the...
It’s that time of year again. We’ve seen the John Lewis advert (and quietly wondered why creepy coal eyed snowmen who rob department stores in the middle of the night represent festive cheer.) We’ve read tabloid stories on the type of poultry most likely to result in violent food poisoning when inexpertly prepared. We’ve been...
After slamming online dating for being the world’s least romantic way to meet men, I’ve decided to give it a go. Partly because it stands to reason that I should experience what I write about, but mostly because the alternatives seem to be dying alone, accepting dating advice from my mother or listening to the...
As a kid Halloween meant dressing up as a witch, pretending your neighbours’ collection of inadequately mutilated pumpkins was scary and trying not to chunder after one too many Milkyways. These days it’s about prancing around in stringy underwear, practising sexy duck face with black lipstick and trying not to chunder after one too many...
Even if you’ve been blessed with fluttery eyelashes or tits that do that jiggly ‘running across a beach in Baywatch’ thing, it doesn’t necessarily make you the pinnacle of bonkability. Granted men tend to be rather visual creatures. Most would be more than happy to insert their precious little sausages into a girl wearing a...
Jesus’ ability to turn water into wine probably explains why he had more followers than Stephen Fry. If he was on Twitter today there’d be a crowd of city girls forming Belieber inspired fan groups in a bid to get their grubby paws on some of his budget cocktail recipes. Sadly I’ve never found a...
After funny, smart and kind, ‘honest’ is pretty high up on my laminated list of Prince Charming credentials. Written in capitals for ADDED EFFECT, I’ve slotted it in with ‘must have all his own teeth’, ‘never uses the phrase ‘smash it’’ and ‘doesn’t watch Sky Sports during sexy time’. But like any good quality in...
One of the most difficult things about cooking (apart from clearing up the catastrophic mess that trails in my wake) is maintaining variety. Given the choice, I’d happily eat mashed potatoes with every meal. Like clouds of salty, buttery fluff on a plate they can pretty much be teamed with any food in the universe....
