It’s not easy being a blogger. Something mildly colourful happens and you’re all OMG I HAVE TO BLOG THIS. You whip out your camera (phone) and you hope that one picture later, you’ll have the perfect picture to pimp and prime in one or other of your many photo-editing apps, so it’s 97% better looking than it was, then you can whack it on the blog along with a string of words and call yourself retired for another week. Continue reading
Four scores and eight years ago (or just eight years ago, as I don’t know what four scores are) I was nearing the end of my post-graduate course in journalism. I untacked an advert pinned to the school’s noticeboard looking for feature writers to work for the UK’s biggest press agency, based in Bristol, and took it home.
Then I invited a friend over for dinner. This friend was already a journalist and much further along her journalism career than I, for she did not stop to wang about smoking weed and achieving nothing for a few years. While we discussed my career options, I remembered the ad that was stuffed into my satchel and I pulled it out to show my friend. Continue reading
In the never ending saga of my big bad bastard back, it’s Magnetic Resonance Imaging week, a clever contraption used to have a peek inside my anatomy and see what’s what. I’ve been looking forward to it for yonks. The poor old NHS had to defer my appointment after the MRI machine caught fire a while back. I know, not exactly a relaxing image for when you’re stuck inside the tube trying not to be claustrophobic. Continue reading
In my continued quest for inner peace, I’ve been reading many articles about happiness. I’ve never really thought of myself as much of a complainer – it’s a word with negative connotations and I’m an expert in painting a picture of myself as an all round entertainer, not the sort to drag you down to the seabed with an anchor made of misery. (Seafaring metaphors come so easily to me. I like boats.) Continue reading
I have had an existential crisis. Following the accident that has had me bed-bound since New Year’s Eve, I have been in unfamiliar territory. Physically stilled, I’ve been questioning the very foundations of my being (a legend). Known to some as melodramatic, and yet to others as a minor meltdown, erring on the side of a mental health wobble. Continue reading
There was an incident a few years ago, for which the consumption of alcohol was largely to blame for my behaviour. It made me realise that contrary to popular belief (in my head, where all the neural pathways lead to signs that read: ‘You’re brilliant!’) I didn’t become more of a legend the more I drank. I, would you believe it, actually became less of a legend, the more I drank. Continue reading