Skip to main content


Showing posts from January, 2008

Feel the Fear (and Go On Holiday)

Tom and I are shortly off on our hols. Our carbon footprint is tiny, more of a toe print actually, so I don’t feel guilty about that. In fact this is only our third package tour trip to the sun. Money, or rather the lack of it, has put the brakes on travelling and I still feel uneasy about taking off even on a cheap deal. But then I feel uneasy, full stop. Whilst Tom has been telling me, for years as it happens, that we need a proper break, I’ve been dragging my heels. We do, after all, live in a very beautiful part of the world and are both, engaged in fulfilling occupations but I accept the fact that I could get a tad too cosy here.

But, instead of looking forward to some time out in the sun, I found myself growing more apprehensive. Turning on the TV last week, having returned from the heaving metropolis of Carmarthen with some Matalan T-shirts, I wasn’t exactly thrilled to see a plane sprawled across Heathrow covered in foam. My concern is partly to do with being a complete and utt…

Two Golden Springs and a Sweet Pea Summer

Do you remember that Cyndi Lauper song, 'True Colours'?’ Well, Rose, Lily and I know what our true colours are now thanks to my lovely friend, Jill, who bought a colour consultation for the three of us as a rather special birthday present.
For the uninitiated the aim of a colour consultation is to simply to demonstrate what colours suit you best when it comes to choosing clothes and makeup. Jill, who always looks gorgeous, had been through the process herself and generously waved her magic wand for me and my daughters, known here as Lily and Rose. Now, it’s no secret that as a die-hard jeans and t-shirt girl whose default going-out colour is, er, black I’m clearly in need of help but would Lily and Rose, just starting out on their careers be offered advice that was relevant to them?

Last Saturday the three of us met up in Cardiff and trotted off to see our House of Colour consultant, the delightful Manon Davies, who in a snappy outfit of red and white gingham dress with a litt…

At Thirteen

A letter to my thirteen-year old self as tagged by Little Brown Dog.

Congratulations, Kid!
You’ve found out you’ve got a good head on your shoulders; it’s already opened doors money can’t. Just as well really, because you’ll never be rich. Well, not in material terms anyway. So get used to the bargain basement clothes but take heart from the fact that the days of the hideous homemade numbers Mum forces on you are numbered. Going back to that head of yours; it’s a shame it’s obscured by a lunar landscape of acne, thick glasses and wires all over your teeth but things, as they say, will get better. People who get close enough not to care will say you have nice eyes… but I’m afraid that’s what’s known as cold comfort.

You’ve got a secret, haven’t you? You’re in love for the very first time. You know it’s love because you think you’re going to faint whenever you see the object of your desire. He’s a stable lad, of course, I mean who …