Periodically, I feel very sombre and just want to go to bed for three days and not see or speak to anyone. And that is my ‘reasons why I don’t have kids’ #31.
When I am tired (and in the grip of a completely unmanageable crush), I am, for want of a better expression, completely f*cking useless. On all counts. On every level. This appears to be a fatal combination, as I’m learning quickly, a little to my detriment. Although, having said that, thus far, I have managed […]
I like weekends like this: Cocktails Roof terrace Chat Dinner Chat Wine Tango Chat Wine Death hour return home Beer New friends Tapas Chat Cava Wine Life-righting Whiskey Chat Bourbon Gut-spillage Death hour return home A little work Bourbon More gut – spillage A little work Wine Impromtu gig Making new friends The leisure of […]
Imagine the scene. You are fourteen and eleven years old. It’s Saturday night. Your mum is flapping around the house, running backwards and forwards to the kitchen – in her turban, wearing glittery eye shadow and possibly her dance shoes. She’s setting the coffee table with snacks and she’s already opened the cava. You’ve got […]
I am….. MAMA SCISSORHANDS Remember those terrible times as a child, when your mum thought she was Vidal Sassoon? Have countless, slightly faded photos of you and your siblings, all with minutely different versions of wonky hair? Re-living the embarrassment of walking into school with DIY bangs? Well, I would be that mother. If, when […]
I would probably have to be a REAL grown-up and not just fake it twice a year when the opportunity arose/I have the place to myself. Honestly, I’m not entirely sure I’m well-enough equipped for this, I think it would be fair to say, that I can barely take care of myself. Being adult is a lot […]
I would periodically feed them lumps of cheese, for one of the following reasons: For educational purposes. You see, I think it’s a little ‘exotic’ – ssoooooo Italian/French/Swiss, so I am in actual fact, expanding their minds. I am brassic and it’s all I can afford I am lazy (A combination of the two immediately above) […]
They would spend four or five weeks of every year terrified of their grotesque, hayfever misshapen mother, who also happens to be very grumpy at this time. (And the rest of the year scared of her for other reasons including days when she was in a ‘very bad mood for no reason’, time of the month […]
I wouldn’t be able to openly display my birthday cards, for fear of the ‘Mummy, what’s a drunken whore?’ questions. And that would be a shame, because they’re really funny……..