Hello there. Happy New(ish) Year! This is just a quick ‘What I Did On My Holidays’ to get me back into the whole writing thing, but I’m going to find time in my busy busy schedule for some cartoons just as soon as possible. Continue to watch this space.
Here are some facts.
- I live in a flat in London, to which I only sometimes lose the keys
- I have a full time job (a new one, which is great by the way)
- I pay taxes
- I have conversations about spreadsheets on an alarmingly regular basis
- I manage OK on the whole paying-bills, keeping-appointments, cleaning-and-tidying front
- I get my five a day and take vitamin supplements
- In recent times, I’ve actually been known to get excited about vegetables
It’s been a while, etc, etc. But I’m back, and I’ve managed to age at least thirty years since I last posted. Read on to find out more about my middle-aged life…
You may be familiar with the ‘Expectation vs reality’ memes that were everywhere a few years ago. They tend to be amusingly cynical or self-deprecating, and go something like this:
Shhhh… let’s just forget about my month-and-a-half absence and plunge straight into a brand shiny new rant-listicle-combo (a ranticle?).
I’m not a religious woman. I try, albeit in my fallible human way, to believe only things I have good evidence for, whilst being tolerant towards the other inhabitants of this deeply flawed little planet. However, there is one sacred place in which the tiniest misdemeanour can turn me into a furious rage-monster. (Anyone who’s seen me when I’m hungry may take issue with the idea that I don’t often become irrationally enraged, but that’s not the point.) Friends, let me introduce you to the Sanctity of the Quiet Carriage. Continue reading
Check out my exciting click-baity title – I thought I’d try doing a Buzzfeed, just to see if it makes any difference to my stats. Let me know if you found yourself inescapably drawn in by the potent gravitational pull of a *gasp* combined rhetorical question and listicle, with just a dash of hysteria thrown in for good measure. Now hold on to your hats for a quickly-penned, ranty one on the highly original topic of How Everything Has Gone To Sh*t Nowadays.
Once again, I must apologise for being shockingly absent from your online airwaves for the last month or so. This is, as ever, due to a combination of factors, mainly being pretty busy and coming down with various things, including another bout of writer’s block. I think the latter is partly to do with how depressing the internet has got lately. The moment I open my laptop, I’m bombarded with articles confirming that the universe is literally coming to an end. If it’s not climate change, IS or the mass murder and displacement of millions, it’s dead celebrities, embarrassing politicians or the slightly disappointing new iPhone. Continue reading
On Saturday, I put the final nail in the coffin of my plan to do a masters. You may not know that I’d applied for UCL’s Comparative Literature MA, got in and even found some (very partial) funding, but for a few months at the end of 2015, that was officially The Plan. Then, over the first half of this year, I gradually wobbled towards a change of heart. And just the other day I sent the email that made my declining of the offer official. Continue reading
I know, I know, it’s been a fortnight… But I’ve been busy, alright?! If you want to see what I’ve been up to, have a look at the line-up pages on Larmer Tree’s website – I wrote/edited almost everything under the headings of Literature, Food and Workshops.
Now to continue my experiment where rather than just recounting stuff I’ve done, I edge perilously close to the territory of the Personal Essay. I’d like to have substantiated my musings by finding some of the actual sources I’ve read back in the hazy past, but I don’t have time and this is not intended to be remotely scientific. Soz. Regardless, here’s some thoughts on crying.
I’m a crier. I cry very easily, and very often. Here’s a small sample of the many things I’ve cried about as a fully fledged adult:
This post is mainly about the second of my three ex-jobs: bartending/waitressing at the Royal Arms. It’s one of those weird posts that was written in instalments over a period of great change – I started it last week, and since then, I’ve moved house, started a job, and become prime minister (spot the odd one out). That all entails a certain amount of inconsistency, but I’ll try and make it vaguely coherent.
On Friday I had my last shift at the Royal Arms before moving down south, and it felt like a little piece of my heart was painfully crumbling into sappy, nostalgic dust. To get the terrible clichés over with, my local is the sort of pub that has a fantastic sense of community spirit. There’s something about watching fifteen regulars standing around the bar and the fireplace, all chatting and laughing together, that warms the cockles of my cynical heart until I start unironically saying things like ‘community spirit’. Playful banter and the odd bit of genuine hostility abound, of course, but everyone knows more or less everyone, and it’s clear that people will pull together when something goes wrong. Continue reading