Kimberley Anne Better Better Willis I was born. That went well. Not long after, I was walking and talking and stamping and shouting and making my mark on the world. I discovered Mum's typewriter when I was eight years old and have been fascinated by words and sentences ever since. I continue to stamp and shout, but now with added 'I might blog about this later' notemaking.
“I bought some shoes from a drug dealer. I don’t know what he laced them with but I’ve been tripping all day.”
As seen online.
Lucky old me, I know lots of clever writers. Here’s a showcase of other writers of the witty, warm, wonderful variety. Click here to read their words.
Here's a selection of my recently published articles.
A blog roll of other sites I know and love and wish I’d thought of.
Stimuli // stimuli plural of stim·u·lus (Noun)
Pets Interrupting Yoga
So, man arrived.
Have a little listen.
Kids. Dishwasher loading.
Kids. Loo Roll.
Your brain on MDMA
Dog Vs Tot
Owl facts. Sort of.
Micah P Hinson
Babies Are Cute
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
Invictus by William Ernest Henley
Shared with me by my sis.
Hit Pop Song
The Lunacy of Ink was born on Valentine's Day 2008... a gift from a suitor who liked my writing and wanted to give me a platform from which to flourish. So I married him. It's a reportage style open diary of my adventures and escapades. I escapade a lot. There's a bit of current affairs thrown in, whenever I feel I have something new to say about Kate Middleton.
It is a hard task to change the fundamental aspects of our character. They say the first seven years are most important, for those years are the foundation upon which the rest of our lives are built. In my early days, I learned that it was a sin of such mammoth proportions it would bring great shame upon our household, if I were to be a foodie fuss-pot. Asking for seconds was a compliment to the host, making room for pudding was a masterclass in etiquette, plates were to be scraped clean. Wolf it all down, child. Continue reading
There are some childhood rites of passage that never made it to the Isle of Wight in the ’80s. Although we did have a Wimpy restaurant, it speaks volumes about the beautiful (ish) island I once called home, that the Wimpy is still there. Is your childhood Wimpy still there? Thought not.
I went to the cinema once as a child, to see Michael Jackson’s Thriller. I remember announcing I didn’t want to go, being told I had to, then falling in love with Michael Jackson. By the time I was a teenager I’d ditched MJ in favour of Keanu Reeves, who after a few years muddling along with a pot belly, is hot again, so I win the long game. #NeverForgetKeanu Continue reading
Cast your mind back to the mid 90s. If you were of a certain age and predilection then, you may have been sucked into the impressive PR stunt that was Beanie Babies. Old muggins over here certainly was. ‘Buy now, cash in later!’ was basically their slogan, as far as I recall.
To help illustrate how valuable my Beanie Baby collection is, I enlisted the help of some friends… it’s a Beanie Baby / Sylvanian Family mash up! Continue reading
What is cool? While I acknowledge that one man’s cool is another man’s dork, my own personal definition of cool seems to be all the little things I spy in other people and long to have as assets of my own. I would certainly never describe myself as cool, what with my penchant for being in bed by 9pm. Continue reading
Warning: contains graphic material. MAN IN PANTS. And out of them.
Some might wonder what it is, to be a feature writer for women’s magazines. You won’t, after reading this.
So, funny story. Continue reading
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
When I was a yoof, I used to hang about with a group of lads who’d shout ‘pigs’ whenever the police drove past. I didn’t approve. I prefer to say ‘5-0!’ like they do in the Wire. But not in a disrespectful way, because I bloody love the police. Just in a kind of Baltimore kidz on the street, rollin with my homies kind of way. I’m cool like that. I also say ‘Omar comin!’ and I hope you do too.
But yes, the police. The ambo’s. I love them all. We go about our daily life not needing their assistance. And then crash, bang, wallop – something goes wrong and there they are, ready to see you through your emergency. Continue reading