*DISCLAIMER: THIS IS NOT ACTUALLY SMIDGEN. OR ME* We've bought the books. We've bought the bed. We've bought the toys, the bowls, the waterproof coat with tartan lining (because apparently greyhounds feel the cold and apparently I am the kind of person who coordinates her outfit with her dog's). We've taken her for walks, smuggled her cubes of cheese and generally made a fuss of her...
There is nothing, repeat nothing, more cringingly awful than people quoting song lyrics as if they are deeply meaningful works of literature. It is painfully, toe-curlingly embarrassing. When a friend who shall remain nameless told me that, overcome with love one day, she texted her boyfriend the lyrics to Chasing Cars, a small part of me died inside. But if I were ever...
When I first saw this picture on Pinterest, it took me a few moments to figure it out. But when I did, it touched me so much. I love imagining some young man, scissors in hand, tongue out and brow furrowed in a perfect picture of concentration, carefully cutting out his sweetheart's face. Was it to fit in a heart-shaped frame, or was...
Ever since I read this post on Florence Finds (have you all seen Florence Finds, by the way? It's a new lifestyley blog from former Rock My Wedding blogger Rebecca Norris. It has the same kind of vibe as the wifey posts on RMW, with lots of fashion and interiors, and also some more cerebral offerings in the form of Florence's Book Club....
My local supermarket looks like Barbie's wardrobe has exploded all over it. Everything is inexplicably pink. For a moment I'm confused, until it clicks. Ah yes. It must be October. October, for those who are colour blind or live in a cave, is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. I feel oddly ambivalent towards it. On the one hand, it's a cause close to my...
There is a distinct autumnal chill in the air. The brief warmth that flared up at the end of last month has fizzled out as quickly as it appeared, and Autumn is well and truly upon us, necessitating the purchase of cosy winter coats. So what better way to pass a wet October Saturday afternoon, for a girl temporarily without a husband and with absolutely...
I bought a coat. From Topshop. Whatever. I might be a hypocrite, but at least I'll be a cosy hypocrite. And it has sleeves and does not resemble baby raccoon tails or a character from Sesame Street. Which are always my main criteria in searching for a coat. Along with not being a yellow puffer jacket (I'm with Lauren on that one). You have...
I have none. It's the story of my life. As a wee girl, I would come up with a million different ways to avoid the monotony of cello practice. Then when I eventually sat down, bow in hand, I would limp half-heartedly through a couple of toneless scales before quickly launching into whatever pretty tune had been assigned that week. Scales were boring....
The day after last month's Any Other Party, I was slumped in my window seat on a train speeding north, watching the terraces and fields rush past through the haze of a well-earned hangover, when Fin texted me to say that Edinburgh city centre was in turmoil. Streets were filled with shaven-headed fascist marchers and bespectacled anti-fascist protesters, the police a long yellow...
