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
How Long Should You Wait for Somebody to Love You?
Pining after a person is, well, much like I imagine swallowing a whole pine cone would be: bloody painful. It’s debilitating and paralysing and sure, there are cute and hopeful moments sprinkled in between, but the majority are insufferable. I hate it. And yet? It seems to be my biggest hobby.
I've Never Hated The Way I Look More Than I Do Now
I've never liked the way I look. I just didn't look like the other girls at school. I didn't have dimples like they did, I didn't have eyelashes that caught the sunlight, I didn't have a smile worth being seen. I still don't. They had mighty confidence, grace, radiance. I had a mighty forehead. I still do.
Why You May Need a Healthy Dose of "Main Character Syndrome"
Have you ever been strolling along the biscuit aisle in Aldi, an attractive face smiling back at you from somewhere near the chocolate Hobnobs, and suddenly you find yourself thinking that's it, that's my soulmate right there, clearly smiling at me because he thinks I'm hot and he's wearing Aston Villa socks so it's almost as if my dad emailed the universe putting a request in himself. He's the one.
Romanticise Your Daily Life
Of all the types of life out there - Sea Life, Alien Life, Afterlife - this is the last one you'd invite to your party. What does it even bring to the table? No fish bowls full of alcohol. No stripy packets of flying saucer sweets. No bloke dressed head to toe in a black veil wielding a scythe.
3 Things My 3-Legged Cat Taught Me About Life
Have you ever loved pesto pasta so much you named your pet after it? Well that's the roundabout reasoning for my cat, Basil's name. But I like to think it's also short for Basilica, because much like that Gaudian cathedral, he too is unfinished. Three limbs and a lack of one.
Black Hearts Aren't So Bad
Red hearts we are born with, Until life stains our skin. Dunked deep into madness, And the colours seep in. Some come out glittering,
Saturday afternoon, 2009, Nan’s living room slash dining room slash craft studio. It’s whatever we want it to be, really. Doc Martin is playing in the background, but we don’t hear it. Our laughter is louder.
People always get asked; what’s your favourite food? What’s your go-to dessert? If you could only ever eat one meal again, what would that be?