I am a writer. I imagine in a parallel universe I might be a caricaturist or a botanist or somewhere asleep on the moon. But here I am a writer, armed with an astrophysics degree, a Paperchase pen and a half empty box of biscuits
Start Small, Stay Small, if You Want to Make it Big
“Fuck it, I’m doing it.” “Doing what?” His pal asked him. There was a pause, slick with electric anticipation as Gaudí’s grin swamped his entire face. Then the realisation struck. “Oh no.”
The Lonely Guide to Being Alone: 6 Steps and a Sit Down
My ex-boyfriend’s sister is getting married. She’s two years younger than I am, the sweetest girl in this or any neighbouring universe, and she met her now fiance about a year after I started dating her brother.
“Treat Others How You Want to be Treated” is a Load of Crap
Kiera, 12, super shy is about to be approached by Jake, 39, her mom’s extra extroverted new boyfriend. Jake likes loud voices. Emphatic gestures. Self-deprecation and impressions of politicians. Kiera does not. Not at all. Not in any way. She’s 12.
This One is for My Mom
It’s pretty crappy really, that we dedicate a lone twenty-four hours to the celebration of our mama’s. They have easily spent at least a minimum of twenty-four hours scrubbing away the dried beans off our plates and the skiddies in our pants. They have given not just one, not just several, but every day of their lives to us — and we thank them for it with a Yankee candle (no disrespect to candle lovers. It’s just that, if your mom is anything like mine, then they should definitely be kept away from exposed flames at any and all times). That doesn’t feel right. It isn’t right. We should celebrate them every day of the year, every single moment. Except maybe Pancake Day. (That’s a day to celebrate me. Considering I passed both my theory and my practical driving test on that very same day, two years consecutively. Clearly cars do not run on petrol, they run on batter).
If You’ve Ever Felt Unlovable — This One is for You
I made my mom cry in a swimming pool once. I was 14, we were in Greece with her best friend and her best friend’s kid, and I’d planted the seed of sadness — inadvertently, of course — the night before, at dinner.
How to Romanticise Your Life
I talked somebody off a ledge last month. He was a stranger, he was struggling, he was calling out for help. Whilst the entire thing took place online — and I don’t know quite how seriously he meant it — I wasn’t taking any chances. It was 1am, I was four seconds away from meeting Robert Pattinson in the dream realm, and then I caught sight of his plea. I knew of him, but I didn’t know him — and I knew I needed to help.
5 Ways to Do Less, Better
Is it bad that I hadn’t heard of Marcus Aurelius before 2020? I mean, I hadn’t heard of the coronavirus either but look how much that’s taken off. However, in Marcus’ case, this is a trend I am happy to hop on to because boy that bloke was wise.
23 Ways to be Unproductive — and Why
Productivity has become a religion. There are enough articles online hyping up the powers and perils of productivity to comprise its very own Bible. Followed swiftly by a sequel, several digital platforms with bi-monthly updates and a newsletter. “Be productive” is the new “be kind to thy neighbour” (because there is no greater act of kindness than your neighbour knowing they live next door to one of the top ten app developers). In fact, productivity has been so overtly emphasised that it’s no longer just a concept, nor even a religion. It has become a cult.