Tuesday, 4 July 2017

8 Times I Missed Out On A Celebrity Autograph

David Beckham


I was walking back from my lunch hour, and had just turned the corner out of Carnaby Street when I happened to glance up at a man walking past me in the opposite direction. He wore a baseball cap and was surrounded by five or six men who looked like they worked out regularly. 

It was only after he'd passed me by that it struck me. Hang on, I thought. Was that who I thought it was? Surely not, could it be? Yes, yes it was. 

You might know him as 'Becks', 'DB7', 'Golden Balls', 'The Beckster', 'Becky From The Block'*, 'Lord Beckingham', or as I like to call him, simply 'our Dave'. It was, indeed, Mr David Beckham. 



Tuesday, 20 June 2017

Lost in Vegetation: When Little O Went AWOL

"Where is he?" I asked.

"I don't know," replied S. "I was in the animal barn and he just ran off. By the time I got outside, I couldn't see him."

Little O is 3. Neither the shouty tellings-off nor the calm explanations have gotten the message across yet that he mustn't run off. I've told him that he mustn't do it, that if he wants to go somewhere he must ask Mummy or Daddy first, that if he runs off and we don't know where he is, he'll be lost. I've lied and said we'll have to go home without him. I've told him off severely when he's done it nevertheless. I've tried everything - and will keep trying, until he gets it. 

Today it's a farm, tomorrow it could be a road.



Sunday, 28 May 2017

The Voice of Fear Can Never Win

Dear Voice of Fear,

You're not winning. I just thought I'd point out that fundamental fact.

In this thing we've named 'the war on terror', I reckon, right now, the judges are probably sneaking a look at their watches and hoping no-one's pilfered their sandwich from the staff fridge.

Because it's obvious. No matter what happens, we will keep on living.


It's not that we don't care about the tragic effects of these cowardly endeavours, because we do. But it's the fact we care that makes us so strong. 

You're like a tick on the belly of a faithful dog. You're trying with all your might to suck out it's life force, but that dog will carry on fetching that ball, and chasing that pigeon, and farting gloriously in it's sleep.

Thursday, 18 May 2017

How NOT to road trip with kids

Summer's coming. And that can only mean one thing: traipsing across the country to visit friends or family, attending weddings, making memories at the seaside, or risking your precious sanity at a theme park (all hail those who've battled Peppa Pig World and survived).



There was a time, not that long ago, when travelling to my parents' house meant three and a half hours of napping, snacking and intentionally avoiding any kind of strenuous mental exercise, save for the gratuitous 'what's your beach style?' quiz in whatever magazine I'd settled on from WHSmith. This was, of course, back in the days when I could book a ticket for one on Virgin Trains and request a table seat just for the hell of it, rather than because I needed the space for Paw Patrol colouring books and a hoard of Cadbury chocolate buttons.

Thursday, 23 March 2017

8 Fashion Trends I'm Glad To See The Back Of

We've all had our 'off' days, the fashion world included. Here's a few gems that I'd be more than happy not to stumble across in Vogue ever again (Okay, you got me - so not Vogue, maybe Look or the fashion page in the Evening Standard...):



1. Harem pants


Just – nope. You know who they look good on? Aladdin. And his genie friend. Certainly not me, that’s for sure.

Tuesday, 28 February 2017

Taste Inc - 100% Chargrilled Chicken Fillets - Review

It should be plain to anyone who follows my blog that I'm a big fan of food. And when Taste Inc got in touch and asked me to review their 100% Chargrilled Chicken Fillet portions - Ready To Eat - how could I refuse?



Each of the two flavours I was sent, 'Original' and 'Spicy', came in handy 35g pouches as part of a 5-portion multipack strip so are perfect as an on-the-go snack. 

Monday, 27 February 2017

The Six Words Every Mother Needs To Hear

I just need to sleep.

That was, undeniably, the main thought running through my head in the first few months after my eldest, Little O, was born. That, and ‘what the hell have I done’, ‘where did I put the sodding Sudocrem’ and wondering when my downstairs would stop feeling like the aftermath of a nuclear explosion.

It won’t be like this forever. That was what my mother-in-law said to me. It will get better.

I can’t remember exactly when she first said it. I can only assume it was on one of the many occasions I sat slumped at her kitchen table, face planted on the granite, coffee mug in hand.


Monday, 20 February 2017

Baby to Toddler, Toddler to Boy

So there I was, merrily mothering on, not realising that time was slipping like raspberry jelly through my fingers. All of a sudden, it was upon me: Baby Rs first birthday.

Where on earth has that year gone? Geez.

I swear, just a minute ago I was bent on all fours on the carpet urging him to ‘roll over, baby, roll over…’, then BOOM – he’s cruising around the kitchen and stealing the telly remote.



Wednesday, 15 February 2017

Hell Hath No Wrath Like a Scorpio Scorned

Little O was born mid-September and is therefore a Virgo. Surprisingly, I can already identify Virgoan qualities in his behaviour, even at the tender age of three.

He focuses well on activities, is attentive and astute and, I suspect, understands a lot more about what's going on around him than I give him credit for. And despite his ritualistic tantrums of toddler-dom, I won't be surprised if he's the type to keep his emotional cards close to his chest when he grows older. 


I, on the other hand, am seemingly incapable of keeping my feelings under wraps. And I don't think I can blame the hormones of motherhood because I've always been that way. 

Friday, 10 February 2017

8 Alternative Ways to Spend Valentine's Day

It’s that time of year again: the minivan flower-sellers are out, Clinton’s shop-fronts glisten, red-glittered and teddy-beared, on the high street and you can’t buy your M&S lunch without having to skirt the mountain of champagne bottles in the walkway (how very middle-class, daaarling).


Oh yes, what a wonderfully lovey-dovey, cuddly-wuddly time of year, a chance to snuggle down with a glass of plonk in front of a roaring gas fire and Love Actually. An opportunity to spend some quality time with your partner/spouse/family member/dog/cat/Xbox/that-bloke-from-Take-That’s discarded fag butt you traded your Discman for, back in 1994.