No words...

I want to write but I have no words.

Since the world went mad, I have the attention span of a gnat.

The long, lonely lockdown days should mean opportunity: brilliant boxsets to devour, DIY projects to be done, sourdough to be shown-off on social media, but these tasks all seem impossible.

Each day, I compose a new to-do list: exercise, take out the bins, do a wash. Minute mundanities that I tick off to feel like I’m succeeding at something.

I log on to Netflix and am fatigued within five minutes: a 12-part thriller seems too heavy when life seems like a dystopian drama.

A couple of pages into a good book and I’m once again on my phone, anxiously scrolling my way through bad news and enviable Instagram accounts to embrace another night of insomnia.

The soundtrack to this solitary nightmare is anything soft, an aural comfort blanket that plays over and over again.

I should’ve written my debut novel, started a screenplay, journaled my way to a book deal.

But I have no words…

Diary of a mid-millennial

One of the highlights of my week is when Refinery29 publishes their latest Money Diary. If you’re not familiar with the concept, it’s when somebody tracks how they spend their hard-earned cash during a seven-day period. I am OBSESSED. There’s something strangely comforting about deep-diving into somebody else’s bank account and realising that we all secretly spend too much money on flat whites and takeaways. 

So I decided to do my own, a gory glimpse into an average week in the life of a faux-adult living la vida loca*. 

*Exaggerations have been made for comedic effect. 

Sunday: 

Diligently plan for a week of healthy and nutritious work lunches and dinners. Head to Tesco in my gym clothes (no exercise has been done but pyjamas at the shops is unacceptable) and fill my basket with cauliflower, chicken breasts and 100s of spices. Stock up on the obligatory loo roll and smugly pack everything into a reusable bag brought from home. 

Total: £65 (but the spices are an investment in future flavour)

Monday: 

Wake up late and blearily stumble to the office via the coffee shop on the corner. Oat milk mocha and a cheese scone cause Monday’s are tough. Have delicious homemade soup in the fridge but not really feeling it, decide to treat myself to a bagel instead, throw in crisps and a can of juice too. Will have soup tomorrow. Wander home via Poundland where I stock up on festive Glade plug-ins. Already have the ingredients for dinner in so feeling good about my life. 

Total: Approx £20, Poundland stuff basically doesn’t count.

Tuesday: 

Been dreaming about a coat I saw Alexa Chung wearing and I need it. Before I’ve even left the comfort of my duvet cocoon, it’s ordered. Maybe I won’t like it when it arrives... Got dinner leftovers for lunch because I’m a woman with my shit together. A friend is coming over for dinner so must buy fancy bread, crisps, dip, olives, charcuterie, fresh flowers and PLENTY OF WINE. 

Total: Rather not say to be honest

Wednesday: 

Tuesday night wine=Wednesday morning Gregg’s. Just a wee vegan sausage roll to soak up the Rioja. Lunchtime rolls around and the need for something healthy-ish is strong, stroll to the nearest shopping centre to M&S. Buy snacks for the office because I really want one of those millionaire shortcake crispie cake things and you can’t just buy one tub because it’s 2 for £4. Have a wee peek in Boots and H&M too and pick up some essentials (if we can class a shapeless polyester jumper and pleather skirt as essential). A friend texts to remind me I owe money for a hen party/engagement gift/baby shower/wedding present - delete where appropriate. 

Total: Well today’s been quite spendy hasn’t it…

Thursday:

Hooray it’s Thursday! Celebrate with a latte from the shop rather than my Nespresso machine. Got lunch again today so no need to leave my desk thus saving me money. Oh wait, ASOS discount code... 

Gasping on a G&T, stop by the shops for some fancy tonic and a grapefruit. 

Total: £6 (Basically pennies)

Friday:

Nothing says Friday like pastries for breakfast. Make a rather large dent in Lidl’s bakery section on my way into work. Sad salad for lunch for but it does the job, Monday’s soup belongs to the office fridge now... Pick up loads of delicious goodies for tomorrow’s brunch including all the fixings for Bloody Marys. Vodka is a store-cupboard staple right? Takeaway for tea because it’s Friday and I’m too tired to make any other decent dinner decision.

Total: £53.50

Saturday: 

Boozy brunch turns into drinks at the pub which leads to a taxi into town to dance in amongst a sea of actual foetuses. Stumble home via a 24hr McDonald’s.

Total: So many Monzo notifications, I’m too scared to look…

The Breakdown:

A mental breakdown, writer’s own.

Total: Probably too much, but you can’t put a price on good times, am I right?

The early 30s glow up

In the lead up to my 30th birthday I decided to overhaul my skin regime, somehow believing that as the clock struck midnight on the 15th September 2017, the hopeless worries of my life would reveal themselves on my face. Wrinkles etched into the skin with the permeance of a scar. 

My concerns were of course, unfounded, but it was too late - I was seduced by the lure of luxury skincare. Having swapped the supermarket own brand wipes for creamy cleanser and flannel facecloths, and lathering my face in Estée Lauder Advanced Night Repair every evening before bed, I was in deep. 

In recent years I have felt invisible at times. I no longer look as good as I once did: my clothes are plainer, my body more rounded, I have lost a sparkle that I had as a younger woman. And so, my skin has become my currency. I want it to glow from within, to look plump and hydrated and dewy. I want kindly cashiers to feign surprise when they examine my ID as I buy a bottle of Prosecco and a packet of loo roll. 

Alongside the actual visible benefits of a routine, there’s the therapeutic theatre of it all. A little bit of time, every night, where I am devoted to myself. Wax on, wax off. As my makeup melts away so too do the stresses of the day, the light and refreshing smell of cleanser as a scent-track to the great unwind. And a mask, well a mask is pure meditation. Ten to thirty minutes of enforced idling as a buffet of acids shed away the years. 

A jade roller kept in the freezer may not do much more than cool down a hot face, but in today’s hectic and often horrifying world, I cherish the chance to stand in front of the mirror, methodically and mindlessly rolling away my blemishes, and my troubles.

The comfort of cooking in January

Everybody talks about how bleak January is: cold and dark, bloated and sluggish. And this year, there’s been a real backlash to the whole concept of ‘resolutions’. January is hard enough, they say, without imposing insurmountable challenges on ourselves. The concept of self-care has become amplified in this month of melancholy as we are urged to be kinder to our bodies and avoid pushing them to extremes. Personally, I find January to be quite cathartic, a fresh start, new chapter, clear inbox. It’s refreshing when everybody decides to stay at home and save money/themselves. 

December is a marathon: planned social events, impromptu pub trips and more day drinking than I care to mention. The big shop is replaced with an ad hoc smash and grab at the Tesco metro, proper dinners give way to party food and share bags of crisps. The longer you go without making a meal, the easier it is to absentmindedly order another takeaway, or rustle up a whacking great wedge of cheese with a chutney garnish. In January, you finally have time to get back into the kitchen. 

Productive Saturday mornings spent pouring over cookbooks old and new, carefully curating a weekend menu are akin to the best yoga class: soothing and satisfying. Basking in the glory of good intentions, in January I put pen to paper, listing out ingredients, drawing up meal plans and mentally filing away all the things future me intends to make. The benefits are bountiful: hours spent chopping, braising and roasting are mediative, and, fuelled by a desire to eat delicious food, the spoils are excitingly edible. There is also a smug satisfaction to be found in portioning up slaved-over soup into Tupperware ready for a week’s worth of lunching. 

When the darkness is still omnipresent, and our immune systems are shot, a complete January reinvention is often not on the cards. So instead, grab your apron, stick on your favourite podcast and potter round the kitchen until your windows are steamy and your belly is full. Embrace the comfort of cooking (and eating), you’ve got the rest of the year for 6am spin classes and kale smoothies. 

What is love?

1. Love isn't finding another half to make you whole. You are whole. Love is surrounding yourself with people who lift you up and make you better.
2. Love isn't chocolate or flowers or sexy lingerie. Love is compromise, and friendship and mundanities.
3. Love isn't poetry or soppy song lyrics. Love is listening to the same rubbish story until you carry the well-worn words with you.
4. Love isn't romantic. Love is an eye roll between siblings, a meal shared with parents, a belly laugh with a best friend. It’s the enthusiastic embrace of a very good dog, the familiarity of home, the memories we have made.

Happy 14th February, here’s to love, and whatever that means to you.

notes on: sharing a bed

One of the worst things about being in a relationship is sharing a bed. 

It wasn’t until I was 21, in my fourth year of university that I finally experienced the luxury of a double bed, albeit a lumpy mattress in a cold room in an untidy flat that smelled of damp. When I returned home after graduating I was once again relegated to the ranks of my childhood single bed, a bed which I seemed to have outgrown, not physically but emotionally.

My homecoming was somewhat permanent and in the absence of a proper job and a proper life, my parents let me redecorate my bedroom and finally I got a double bed to call my own. The bed I still sleep in today, in my own flat, next to the man I love. 

But sharing comes with a whole host of headaches. No longer can I spread out, starfished in the middle of my memory foam-mattress. I can’t haphazardly drink a cup of tea and devour a plate of crumby toast with reckless abandon. My heavy breathing and sometimes-snoring can cause my partner misery and I now stay up later than my inner-granny would like. 

However when I get peace, and I’m treated to a night alone in my own bed, the space feels empty. I miss the solid, safe, warmth of a body. I miss the reassuring sound of sleep. I miss the bedtime rituals, the goodnights and the good mornings.

One of the best things about being in a relationship is sharing a bed.

My life in fashion

I’ve always loved fashion and the way that certain clothes can make you feel. From a little girl with a penchant for pretty party dresses to the questionable fashion blog I started in my early twenties, fashion has been a big part of my life. Clothes help us express ourselves in the most simple and straightforward manner and can be fun and frivolous, or practical and perfunctory, depending on the mood. Nowadays, I stick firmly to the ‘safe’ zone: lots of black, loose shapes, interesting outerwear and statement accessories, but I’ve not always been averse to risk. There's been leather, pleather, short shorts and enough sequins for the whole of this season's series of Strictly, here are just a handful of my favourites moments en vogue. 

1. The birthday beret

For my 10th birthday my Mum took me shopping to choose my own party outfit and the result was resplendent. I chose a mustard chenille jumper dress, tartan tights and a deep red beret. If only I had the balls to rock such a sartorially stylish combo today. 

2. The GAP striped jumper

In the late 90s I thought GAP was the ultimate in cool and thinking myself too mature for the iconic fleece hoodies, I fell in love with the multi-coloured striped chunky rollneck from the Christmas campaign. My podgy, pre-pubescent body didn’t quite pull it off like the willowy model but I felt sophisticated and stylish nonetheless. 

3. The mini-kilt

When I stumbled across a denim mini-kilt in Kookaï on a long weekend in Manchester I knew it had to be mine. It was more expensive than any item of clothing I’d ever owned but thankfully I had the takings from my 15th birthday burning a hole in my pocket. That skirt saw me through school discos and house parties, underage fumbles and family gatherings. A real all-rounder. 

4. The sequin bolero

I went off to uni with a suitcase full of sequin boleros that I’d bought in Primark. I felt sure that these sparkling shrugs would identify me as a real tastemaker, a trendy gal that everyone would want to know. I was correct. 

5. The Alexa skirt

I still try to apply a ‘What Would Alexa Do’ mentality to any major wardrobe purchase but the high-waisted American Apparel skirt was the first actual item I bought that I’d seen on ultimate style-maven Alexa Chung. I bought it in 3 colours in the end, despite the fact that my flatmate’s bitchy girlfriend suggested the style gave the wearer a ‘gunt’. 

6. The disco pants

Fresh from a heartbreak and at my skinniest, I finally decided to try on the skintight satiny trews that had become the toast of every Indie disco. I was instantly 10 times cooler and had no qualms about parting with £75 of my hard-earned cash. Reader, I wore them twice. 

Taylor Swift's Reputation as a hitmaker remains intact

It’s no secret that I’m a massive Taylor Swift fan (see previous gushing tribute to Tay-Tay) but this year she’s had a bit of a nightmare. From the Kimye feud to the saccharin showmance with Tom Hiddleston, it’s been tough to be on Team Taylor at times. But every relationship has its ups and downs and when news broke that Swift’s new album Reputation was set to be released imminently, I was pretty pumped. The first few glimpses she gave us into Reputation felt quite different from the country queen who once stole my heart, but while other fans were fleeing her army I remained loyal(ish). On Friday, when Reputation went live on iTunes I toyed with the idea of buying it as I had Speak Now, Red and 1989 before it but something stopped me. From what I’d heard so far I just wasn’t sure I was willing to part with £10.99. But today I gave in. This is a track-by-track rundown of Reputation, as told by a resurrected superfan. 

1. …Ready for it? 

While the rapping is questionable, the first track on Reputation is catchy AF. The key change was made for karaoke. Also, ‘he can be my jailer, Burton to this Taylor’ is lyrical FIRE. T-Swizzle, I am 100% ready for it. Let the games begin. 

2. End Game (feat. Ed Sheeran & Future)

Taylor tries to be cool and I’m totally into it. Ed Sheeran’s contribution is completely inoffensive which is a happy surprise. I want to listen to this pre-night out for the rest of my life. Repetition of reputation slightly grating. 

3. I Did Something Bad

I had this blasting through my headphones as I strutted through King’s Cross station and I have never felt more sassy. Taylor is a bad bad girl and she’s given us a modern pop song that plays perfectly. 

4. Don’t Blame Me

This is a slow burner but I really like the cadence. It’s a rally cry, Taylor’s very own Crazy in Love: ‘Don’t blame me, love made me crazy, if it doesn’t you ain’t doing it right’. By the time it reaches it’s crescendo I am fully committed. 

5. Delicate

Taylor’s vocals are softer (and at times autotuned) in this light love song. It’s stripped back compared to the tracks that have come before and it feels fragile. I like it, obvz. 

6. Look What You Made Me Do

The much-discussed and dissected debut single from Reputation is a marmite track but I’d have it on toast for breakfast any day. Whiny, but a winner. 

7. So It Goes…

My least favourite on the first few listens. It’s fine, but definitely more filler than killer. 

8. Gorgeous

A bit of a cheese fest but you better brie-leave it would make me cry if listened to on a particularly horrid hangover. 

9. Getaway Car

Apparently about Taylor meeting Tom Hiddleston at the Met Gala while she was still with Calvin Harris. I love a salacious tale so straight away it piqued my interest. It’s also frothy and fun like a lot of 1989’s stand-out tracks. A front-runner for my new favourite. 

10. King Of My Heart

Another good but not glorious track. I’ll obviously still learn every word and sing along with reckless abandon but I have no interest in tattooing the lyrics anywhere on my body. 

11. Dancing With Our Hands Tied

Quick-paced and catchy with an EDM beat, I’ll probably dance around my bedroom in my pants to this one. 

12. Dress

Sexy, sultry sighs make up most of this soft porn singalong. It’s hard to imagine Taylor’s seduction techniques given her generally geeky demeanour but it’s a banger nonetheless. 

13. This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things

Taylor’s a petty Betty in this rousing chant directed at Kanye West and I bloody love it. Back to her bitchy best (see Better than Revenge and Mean). 

14. Call It What You Want

A classic Taylor love song, lyrically strong and aurally joyful, what’s not to love? 

15. New Year’s Day

A piano, a pretty chorus and plenty of vintage Swift, this little blast from the past is the perfect end to the album. Turns out the old Taylor isn’t dead yet…

Fall Back

The clocks went back yesterday and already I feel discombobulated. In the summer months I take so much for granted and today I miss the daylight. Every winter the darkness descends and it always takes me by surprise. One day I’m just walking along and boom, somebody has stolen the light, the hope, the joy of summer. 

Tonight I left the artificial lighting of my office, emerged into the gloomy street and was struck by how different I felt. I felt wearier, more worn down and woeful. Winter stretching out in front of me like an endless tunnel. By December it will be different. The darkness feels familiar then. Long, lazy, light-until-10pm evenings seem like a dream and Christmas lights up the night skies.

I think the Scottish winter must be a bit like childbirth. You remember all the festive fun in a haze of twinkling lights and sequins, but you forget the pain; like standing in taxi queues with teeth chattering, and dragging yourself out of bed in Baltic temperatures. It’s easy to allow yourself to wallow in the winter, to curl up in the cosiness, reluctant to leave the house. 

For women, the darkness also brings a certain fear. We wrap our coats around our bodies tighter. Pull our skirts down a little longer. Every solo journey takes place with a little more apprehension, sneaking furtive glances at those who cross our paths, desperate to remain anonymous, invisible. Shortcuts and alleys are swapped for busy thoroughfares and well-lit pathways, one hand clamped tightly on our mobile phone, the other grasping a set of keys. 

In a couple of weeks I’ll forget this feeling, the lightlessness will no longer dismay me. And as well as the night, we have the days: the crisp, cold, bright, beautiful days. So let’s fall back, reset, and ready ourselves. Because winter is coming. 

30 things at 30.

I turned thirty a few weeks ago. For some it’s considered a scary age but I can honestly say I’m excited about it. When you’re young you have all these ideas in your head about what’s expected of you and who you should be. Sometimes, things don’t turn out the way you planned, but you learn some important lessons along the way. Here are 30 pearls of wisdom I have gleaned in my thirty orbits around the sun.

1. Career progression isn’t always a ladder. I’ve made lots of sideways steps in my professional life and am now in a role where I feel comfortable, content and creative. Despite not always getting more money, I grew rich in experience with each new role and was able to grow as a person both personally and professionally. 

2. Work to live, don’t live to work. As I’ve discussed before, finding the right work/life balance has been a challenge for me, but now that I’ve found an equilibrium, my life feels more my own. While I need to earn enough money to pay my mortgage and fund my skincare obsession, I also need time for myself.

3. You can change your mind about wanting babies. When I was in my early twenties I was sure I didn’t want kids, but as I’ve gotten older my mindset has changed. If it happens for me, it’s something I’ll embrace fully. 

4. But it’s also ok to not be ready. Knowing that I may want kids some day is fine but I also know I’m not ready. While many of my peers have children or are thinking about it, I know that I want another few years for myself and my relationship. I want to continue to go on outlandish holidays, to stay out all night and sleep in all day. 

5. It’s important to dress for your shape. I don’t want to boast but I’ve got killer legs, unfortunately the rest of me looks like a potato. As such, a short, shapeless t-shirt dress is my go-to silhouette. It’s a winning formula and I’m never gonna quit it. 

6. Exercise will make you feel better, physically and mentally. I am the queen of procrastination when it comes to working out but the thing is, I know it makes me feel good. The weeks where I exercise 3+ times, I feel happier, healthier and more productive.

7. It’s ok to not make plans. It’s also ok to cancel existing plans so long as you are honest and aren’t letting anybody down. Sometimes you’re tired, pre-menstrual or just fed-up and all you want to do is curl up on the couch and cry at Say Yes to the Dress. 

8. Living alone is hard, but so rewarding. I spent two and a half years living on my own before my boyfriend moved in with me. Financially, it was a strain but knowing that being on my own is something I can endure, and even enjoy is important to me as an independent woman. 

9. Make-up wipes should be for emergencies only. I’ve started cleansing properly in the last year and my skin is definitely clearer, cleaner and brighter. There’s also something soothing about the routine of lathering on cream and wiping it off with a warm facecloth. It’s become an important part of my evening ritual.

10. Drinking too much wine will give you a hangover. Not only am I an annoying drunk, I’m also a horrendous hungover person and when I’ve been downing wine I become incapacitated. While I know I should cut back on my drinking, this is still something I’ve not quite nailed down. 

11. Not everyone will like you. I’m a people pleaser and I find it very difficult when people don’t like me. This used to be something that caused me real distress but as I’ve gotten older I’ve discovered it’s ok for people not to like you. As long as you like yourself, you’ll find your people.

12. Smear tests are so important. I’m so lucky to live in Scotland where the NHS starts giving girls smear tests at 21. My first test showed some abnormal cells and for the past nine years I have received regular appointments and excellent care. Screening saves lives. 

13. Learn to cook. The more time I spend in the kitchen, the more I love it. There is no greater feeling than hosting a successful dinner party and presenting guests with a knock-out pavlova for pud.

14. Go to the dentist regularly. I recently took a two year hiatus from visiting the dentist and unfortunately my penchant for red wine and coffee meant my otherwise perfect teeth were badly stained. It took a couple of intense scale and polishes to get them gleaming again. 

15. Don’t spend a fortune on mascara. Over the years I have tried out a wide range, from high-end to high-street and the quality does not always improve with the price. I always go back to L’oreal Lash Architect, which at £10.99 feels a bit like a Pret sandwich: affordable but luxurious.

16. The Salted Caramel Khalua will up your Espresso Martini game considerably. I was gifted a bottle and I am now Queen of this classic caffeinated cocktail.

17. Don’t just assume everyone is doing better than you are because of what you see on social media. We’re all guilty of censoring our social activity to paint the perfect picture but the reality is that life can be hard and we don’t always see the whole story. 

18. Be kind. Be kind to yourself and to others, I know it’s a cliché but everyone is fighting a battle you know nothing about. 

19. Spend time with your family. Some of the best nights of my life involve sitting at my Gran’s kitchen table with my massive, loud, overwhelming family. I’ll cherish these memories forever. 

20. Drink lots of water. Water is good for your skin, good for your teeth, good for digestion and good for when you need five minutes away from your desk.

21. Ask questions. This is important in almost every situation. In a social environment, asking questions is how you have a meaningful conversation. There is nothing more ignorant than someone who takes no interest in others. Professionally, asking questions is how you learn and shows that you are switched on and engaged. 

22. TK Maxx isn’t for everyone. Yes, I love the homewares but there are few things more exhausting than trawling through racks and racks of off-season clothes under that artificial lighting. 

23. Onesies are as comfortable as they look. I was pretty against the whole ‘adult dressed like a baby’ thing until I zipped my semi-naked body into a feather-soft leopard print fleecy all-in-one. It’s heaven.

24.  Being a wedding guest is a little like being a marathon runner (I’d imagine). I have attended many weddings and let me tell you this, it’s a long day with a lot of drinks. Pace yourself. 

25. Pushing yourself to the limit can be exhilarating. I’m a total scaredy-cat, so when I decided to sign up for a mountainous 10k in the dark last year my friends and family scoffed. All I wanted to do was quit, but I didn’t. I waded through rivers, jogged/scrambled up steep rocks and ran, on my own, for almost two hours. I was so proud.

26. Get a good black leather jacket. Or pleather, either way, it’s an investment piece. It can be worn with everything and adds a certain edge to even the girliest of gowns.

27. Compeed blister plasters are worth their weight in gold. At the time of purchase you’ll begrudge forking out £5+ on them but after a day breaking in your brand new loafers you’ll be willing to sell your soul to the devil for their cushioned comfort. 

28. The Dominos downs exist. It always feels like a good idea at the time but that cheese-loaded, carb-heavy grease fest will leave you feeling full of regret. Until next time…

29. If it’s cold, put the heating on. I got chilblains one winter at university because we were trying to save money on heating. It’s worth spending a bit more cash to not have to sleep in two hoodies and three pairs of socks. 

30. Writing lists is hard. There were moments I thought I’d be 31 before I published this post. 

I don't mind Mondays.

I'm just going to put it out there, I don't mind Mondays. 

Five months ago I changed jobs, from a high-stress client services role back to a more-creative position as a content manager and copywriter. I can't begin to tell you the positive effect this has had on my mindset. Doing something I love (writing) on a daily basis has given me a fresh lust for life. An influx of creativity in my working life has also helped me to rediscover this blog and I have devoted more time to my writing than ever before.  

My weekends are once again my own, no longer overshadowed by the monstrous grey cloud of the impending working week. A Sunday well spent brings a week of content - but mine would often be wasted cowering under the duvet, sleeping off a stinking hangover, heavy with dread at the thought of work the next day. I'm not suggesting the job was awful, it just wasn't the right job for me. I only realised that I'd been braced for impact for three years when I walked out of the door for the last time, my muscles slowly relaxing with each step I took into the future. 

Now, I sleep soundly on Sunday night, no more lying awake imagining all the important emails that may have invaded my inbox, the crisis calls left unanswered on my desk phone. Don't get me wrong, a big weekend may still leave me sluggish on a Monday morning but it's nothing that a cup of coffee and a carbohydrate-based breakfast won't fix. 

Mondays signify a fresh start, a blank page, a tale yet to be told - what's not to like about that? 

The importance of a good dose of Nostalgia

I’m one of life’s great rememberers. My brain is bursting with full-colour, surround sound memories. I can tell you exactly what I was wearing at the dawn of the Millennium (a cloud print strappy dress, mohair shrug and approximately 100 butterfly clips FYI) and I can recall insignificant conversations from months ago, much to my boyfriend’s abject horror. 

Whenever my school friends and I find ourselves together the conversation inevitably turns to our formative years. We talk about the boys we fancied, the guys we fell out over, the heinous clothes we wore. We listen to songs that remind of us being young and carefree and for a minute, we escape our real lives. And we laugh, so hard. 

Last week, inspired by a soundtrack of 90s Smash Hits, myself and a colleague found ourselves in a Google Image black hole of vintage Barbies and Tamigotchis. After about 30 minutes’ squealing ‘Do you remember…’ at each other we returned from our trip down memory lane, happy and grateful for all the things we were lucky to have. 

A nostalgic tinge can make even bittersweet memories more fond. Songs about love lost, that once caused me physical anguish now play out like a great film soundtrack. Early naughties pop punk takes me back to being an awkward 16 year old, smart and studious and stupidly wishing a boy would kiss me. But I still know all the words to all the songs and I belt them out with glee. 

The thing is, I love it. I’m so happy to be able to relive the rich instalments of my life thus far and I know that one day I may not be lucky enough to remember. I think that as humans, we need nostalgia, now more than ever. The familiar warmth of the past can lift the mood in this uncertain present.

My Top 5 Hangovers (in no particular order)

As I get older my hangovers get worse. I’ve gone from ‘slightly tired but nothing a can of juice won’t sort’ to ‘physically unable to stand up for at least 12 hours’. In a bid to document the evolution of my hangovers, here’s a taste of some of the most heinous:

1. Christmas 2016. As usual I’ve started my boozing early on with midday prosecco cocktails and canapés. I arrive at my Aunty’s house suitably ‘merry’ and the evening goes downhill from there. I remember copious amounts of red wine, a magnum of champagne and a failed attempt at ‘All That Jazz’ - my signature sing song. I wake up at 4am and projectile vomit. The family WhatsApp is awash with general ridicule. I am unable to move. I haven’t wrapped any of my boyfriend’s presents and he’s due home any minute for our Boxing Day celebration. 

2. It’s 2007, I’ve just returned home from university for the summer. I’m nineteen years old and I believe myself to be heartbroken. I’ve been out the night before (I forget where) and I’m sitting on the couch at my Mum and Dad’s with an endless summer of nothingness in front of me. I’m watching MTV and the video for Avril Lavigne’s heart-wrenching hit ‘When you’re gone’ comes on. I sob uncontrollably. 

3. The late spring of 2012. I’m in Glasgow for a gig with a group of friends. We sing, we dance, we drink double G&Ts like our lives depend on it. At around 2am I decide I’ve had enough and toddle back to our hotel via a takeaway. Big mistake. I wake up to a noodle massacre. There is fluorescent orange Sweet and sour sauce on EVERYTHING. I can’t move without being sick. We check out, I’m sick in the reception toilets. We go to Nando’s, I am saved. 

4. I’m camping with pals at a festival in Spain in 2011. We wake up, still drunk, and decide to brave the tedious trek to the beach. We get there, it’s hot and the hangover is kicking in. After a couple of hours of agitated sunbathing we decide to start the journey back. We’ve been living off crisps and cartons of red wine, and our digestive systems begin to rebel. The long walk home becomes a race to the portaloos.

5. It’s a Wednesday in 2016, I’ve got a busy day at work but my boss and I went out for a glass of wine last night and ended up 4 bottles deep at karaoke. ON A TUESDAY NIGHT. What the fuck was I thinking?

The pure joy of a great podcast

There’s something otherworldly about listening to a really captivating podcast. As the sound floods your earphones it’s easy to imagine you have been transported to the precise moment it was recorded, that you are a friend and observer, rather than a listener. There is something refreshingly intimate about the format that really appeals to me. 

I have found that podcasts have a more practical benefit too: I am more inclined to walk from A to B when I have something interesting to listen to. The same goes for performing menial tasks like washing up or cleaning the bathroom. I also love to have my favourite podcast on while I cook or potter around, for me, it’s the ultimate in everyday escapism.

Here’s a little taste of what I’m currently listening to:

Guys we F****d

Corrine Fisher and Krystyna Hutchinson make up the comedy duo, Sorry About Last Night, and since 2013 their weekly podcast Guys we Fucked, The Anti Slut-Shaming Podcast has gone from strength to strength. Created to empower women to talk about sex, their honesty and wit has earned them a legion of fans of which I am definitely one. From porn stars and comedians to abuse survivors and former conquests, their guests are all fascinating and full of character. Laugh out loud and at times a bit risqué, this is never far from my ears. 

The High Low

Another duo of lovely ladies, The High Low hosted by Dolly Alderton and Pandora Sykes (2 smoking hot blondes) is a weekly podcast covering current events and pop-culture. With discussion on high brow topics as well as a smattering of mindless celebrity gossip, this podcast TRULY gets me. Intelligent, relatable and full of fun, this is a slick, quick dose of entertainment. 

S-Town

From the makers of Serial (an unmissable podcast in its own right), S-Town starts out as a classic whodunnit. It begins with producer Brian Reed receiving an email from one John B McLemore, an eccentric horologist from ‘Shit Town’ Alabama, urging him to investigate an unsolved murder in his hometown of Woodstock. What follows is an intense and emotional story which ultimately focuses on the complexity of human character. 

My Dad Wrote a Porno

Presenter Jamie Morton’s Dad ACTUALLY wrote a Porno and alongside pals James Cooper and Alice Levine, he’s reading and reviewing it in this hilarious podcast. His Dad’s poorly written erotic fiction series centres on the enigmatic Belinda Blumenthal, a pots and pans saleswoman, and her many sexual exploits. The books are unintentionally comical but the unscripted narration is the real star of the show here. Full of mirth and merriment, be prepared to snort laugh on public transport. 

Eat this right now: Halloumi Fries

I love food. I love to eat food, I love to cook food, it's just one of life's greatest pleasures in my humble opinion. I'm no food writer, and I'm by no means a chef but after seeing countless pictures of halloumi fries on my newsfeed I simply needed to try them IMMEDIATELY. 

Unfortunately Camden Market is a bit too far away for me to just drop in at the weekend to pick up a punnet of these ubiquitous street food favourites so I decided to take matters into my own hands. The result was a roaring success (see above photo as evidence). 

They could not have been easier to make so I thought I'd just write down the basics here should you find yourself with a craving for deep fried cheese this weekend. 

Serves: 1 greedy person, 2 normal people, 3 nibblers

Ingredients:

-1 x block of Halloumi

-Plain flour (about 50g)

-Paprika

-Vegetable Oil

-Garnish of your choice (I went with fresh mint, pomegranate molasses and garlic sauce)

Method:

-Mix about a teaspoon of paprika into the plain flour and pour onto a plate

-Cut the halloumi into chip sized pieces and roll in the flour until coated evenly

-Fill a deep casserole dish with vegetable oil (make sure there is enough oil to cover the halloumi once you put it in to fry)

-Once the oil is nice and hot drop in your halloumi and fry until golden and crispy

-Fry the chips in batches and then drain on kitchen roll before topping with whatever you fancy and eating the hell out of them. 

YOU ARE WELCOME.

The summer of Love (Island)

This summer a new crew of tanned, toned wannabes descended on a luxury villa in the Balearic Isles for ITV2's Love Island. As with previous years, I was hooked from the first episode. I'm not the only person to feel this way. Love Island has captured the nation's attention in an extraordinary way, social media is awash with commentary and national newspapers are providing daily coverage. Celebrities like Liam Gallagher and Adele have even confessed to watching the show.

There are, of course, the naysayers. Those who think that watching reality TV is the same as eating junk food: unhealthy and ultimately dangerous consumption. It riles me that some people snobbishly profess that educated and intelligent people shouldn't enjoy so-called 'trash-tv' so here are 5 reasons why I love Love Island, and why you should too:

1. While I don't have much in common with the contestants in terms of protein consumption and hours spent at the sunbeds, there have been many moments of real, raw emotion this season that I can relate to. The Camilla/Jonny/Tyla love triangle played out like a biopic based on my teenage years while Olivia's drunk alter-ego is a girl we all know too well. The relationships these people are forming are sincere and honest and are a pleasure to watch.

2. Softly-spoken and shy Camilla is the stand-out star of this year's Love Island. A rumoured former flame of Prince Harry, a humanitarian and a total babe to boot, Camilla has been kind and caring and completely true to herself. When the aforementioned Jonny (King of the snakes) rolled his eyes and asked Camilla if she was a feminist, she proudly proclaimed "Shouldn't we all be?". Truer words were never spoken.

3. I am not a person who is down with the kids and it wasn't too long ago that I had to Google the word 'bae' after seeing it pop up in countless places and having absolutely no idea what it meant. Love Island has allowed me a glimpse into the everyday vocabulary of the youth of today and I will now seamlessly use words like 'melt' and 'muggy' in all communications.

4. The unfeasibly buff bodies of the men and women of Love Island serve as a very harsh reminder that I should put down the cheese and crackers and pick up some sort of dumbbell. The girls' ability to be perfectly preened, wearing a full face of make-up in the blistering heat has discouraged me from going to Sainsbury's in my pyjamas on more than one occasion.

5. In a world that is full of darkness, where almost every day we are confronted with sadness and tragedy, Love Island is pure escapism. It knows it's not deep or symbolic but its entertaining editing and acerbic voice over make it a wonderful way to unwind after a long day.

Bring on the Spring.

Like many people I vowed to start the new year on the right note. I'd eat better, drink less and exercise more. I promised myself I'd try to leave work on time in order cultivate the perfect work/life balance and to save my sanity. However, since the Christmas break I have felt permanently on the back foot, struggling to juggle an increasingly stressful job with a social life and failing to find any time for personal admin.

We are fat and skint and jaded in January, suffering from a physical and emotional festive hangover. The Sunday night dread feels more dreadful than ever and we scour job adverts for something new, something better. Then, before you know it the light mornings are tentatively tip-toeing in and it's halfway through February already. The list of friends I've not caught up with is as long as the cruel Scottish winter, and an unforgivable amount of unanswered texts lay heavy on my heart.

The beginning of the year is a bit like a Monday: it can feel long and relentless yet fraught and frantic all at once. It is often tinged with guilt about resolutions broken and chances not taken. But, it is the start of something. A year full of fun and friends and possibility. As the sun shines through my window today I am temporarily able to abolish my anxieties and look forward to the future. Bring on the Spring.

Girl Talk - things that can be infuriating about being female.

I endeavour to write more in 2017 but in the meantime here's a list of some trivial things that sometimes annoy me about being a woman (although normally it's pretty damn great). 

1. Emotion fuelled indecisiveness. 

Have you laid on your bed wearing your jacket and shoes and cried at your boyfriend this week about not knowing what you want for dinner? I know have. 

2. False eyelashes. 

They are impossible to put on but if your friends/colleagues/lovers are successfully wearing them next to you in a Facebook photo you will look at least 50% uglier than them. 

3. The constant period fear. 

Was that a particular sweaty spin class or have I just started the world's heaviest period? Should I just stay on this stationary bike forever?

4. Bras. 

Yes, they are necessary (especially if you have big boobs like me) but man can they be uncomfortable. There is no greater feeling than whipping that instrument of torture off after a long, hard day. Am I right ladies?

5. Kirby grips. 

You'll buy them in their millions throughout your life and have probably littered strangers homes with them at times but when you decide to do a fancy up-do for your cousin's wedding they will be nowhere to be found. 

6. Wine hangovers. 

I love knocking back the vino with reckless abandon with my gal pals on any given night. Sadly the result is often projectile vomiting and a headache that leaves me feeling like I've got a brain injury.

I was hygge before it was cool.

Last month I went to my parents house for dinner, the lighting was low and candles were burning. 'It's huh-gah,' my mum proclaimed and with that the term 'hygge' officially became mainstream.

The thing is, I'm Scottish so I'm used to long, dark, cold winters. And I'm lazy, so I'm used to long periods sat on the couch in fleecy pyjamas with the heating on. Since buying a flat 4 years ago I have shunned expensive nights on the town in towering heels for cheap nights in the flat by candlelight. It's not that I'm trendy, it's that I'm tired and skint.

I don't need a 'Little Book of Hygge,' I was rocking a grey cotton lounge combo long before EasyJet started offering cheap returns to Copenhagen.

Like 'Normcore' and the 'Dad bod' before it, 'hygge' has taken a simple concept and given it a rebrand. Staying in, being at home, spending time with family: all everyday, unglamorous albeit fulfilling achievements. Yet without the sexy skandi terminology why are we so ashamed to just stay at home and vegetate?

The period between Christmas and New Year is the perfect time to exercise your right to lounge, so put on your comfiest pyjama bottoms and a jumper that has seen better days and chill the fuck out. 

An ode to the Pret Christmas sandwich.

My favourite part of Christmas is the eating: tonne boxes of Celebrations, M&S party food and enough roast potatoes to cater for a small principality. There is no festive feed mightier however, in my humble opinion, than Pret's Veggie Christmas Lunch.

A Christmas sandwich is a wonderful thing: an edible celebration contained within two slices of delicious bread. It is a taste of the best of times that can be eaten at the worst of times, a little bit of festive cheer for a long train journey or a joyless lunch stuck at your desk.

Pret offers 2 Christmas sandwiches (3 if you count the vegan one, I don't) and while the traditional meat number is delicious it is the vegetarian alternative that has my heart. Perfectly roasted chunks of butternut squash sit alongside something akin to stuffing, nutty and rich with a surprisingly fruity edge. Add in some mayo, some rocket and a smattering of crispy onions and you have a taste sensation. Just thinking about said sandwich has made me ravenous.

Basically what I'm saying here is go to Pret today for your lunch, buy it, eat it and feel fucking fantastically festive. No need to thank me.