Well then, folks. Here we are. Just when we thought 2020 couldn’t surprise us any further with its leap year and mass Australian bush fires, we now find that March 2020 falls right on the upward curve of a global pandemic. I’m logging on tonight just after the announcement that the UK will be enforcing
AKA how to fail at blogging for an entire month. It’s fair to say that 2020 has already kicked me in the arse and we’re only in March. It all started off so promisingly. I’d made a vow to myself to commit to writing as a creative outlet, while simultaneously juggling my day-to-day commitments as
It’s the eve of a new decade and I’m entering it as I intend to live it; sat on my arse in my pyjamas binge-watching a new Netflix series. I am partly joking of course. I’ll probably get dressed at some point in 2020, for work at least. As I took down our Christmas tree
And there’s every need to be afraid. Not only are we dangling on the precipice of another Conservative reign, the Christmas ads have hit the telly and we must now all frantically shop for meaningless gifts as if love and consumerism were one and the same. For the past four weeks since my post reminiscing
It’s funny how things work out when you befriend a group of strangers while visiting the memorial bench of your comedy hero. Those of you who’ve been reading my blog for a while (if you’re out there?) will recall this post back in May, where I reviewed a trip to Hadfield, Derbyshire, after meeting up
As I sit here recovering from an impromptu Friday night of curry and cocktails, I thought I’d share a few words on the newest addition to my jewellery collection. Yes, ladies and gents. I am freshly pierced. Piercings these days are hardly uncommon. You can barely walk 100 yards down the street without passing someone
Before I begin this shameless trip through my own personal history via my jewellery box, I’d like to apologise for yet another extended absence. To say June into July has been a clusterfuck of commitments and life changes would be an understatement. The weekend before last, during what has to be one of the most
This was it. The big day. All was in hand. The dress fit like a dream, the shoes had arrived in time and unscathed, and I was ready to walk down the aisle polished and mentally prepared for the barrage of extended family that would inevitably follow post-ceremony. It’s a hard life being a wedding
Now is the season of impending nuptials. At least I think that’s what Shakespeare said. June is a month where at least two things are guaranteed to happen – neither of which include the bizarre combination of sunshine and thunderstorms that we’ve experienced in the North West of England over the past 24 hours: I’m
I’ve never been one for a beauty regime but turning 31 last year brought with it a deep sense of foreboding, new wrinkles, and an insatiable need to moisturise. I’ve also woken up to the idea that my eyelids – such as they are – won’t stay in this condition forever, so it’s time I
