Camp Bestival 2017

It’s been a while, but I feel duty bound to report on our annual trip to Camp Bestival, which this year was brought to you by 40mph winds and lashings and lashings of pissing rain. That’s right. The weather could only have been worse if it had literally snowed knives, so pretty different to the…

The makings of a reluctant runner

How do you get from nowhere to being a half marathon smashing dickhead? A bit like this, since you ask… Age 12, cross country running on Wednesday afternoons at school…  Be sure to go to a school on top of a barren, windswept Derbyshire hill where the ‘cross country’ route actually feels like you are…

When you’ve not been out in WAY TOO LONG…

What’s the point of having children at all if you can’t run away and leave them for a spa day with your mates and a civilised night out once every eight years or so eh? Or failing that, a spa day and the cocktail equivalent of a high speed train crash in Nottingham city centre with your…

Going on holiday. By mistake.

“WE’VE GONE ON HOLIDAY BY MISTAKE. We’re in this cottage here. Are you the farmer?” “Stop SAYING that Withnail – of COURSE he’s the fucking farmer” So went my mind for most of my recent half term holiday in North Norfolk, without my husband, with two of my friends, and also with an idiotic number…

Camp Bestival 2016: Review

It’s pretty rare these days that I find myself dressed in a wig, watching a load of children I don’t even own doing Bhangra on a giant stage which looks like a pirate ship, but if you’re down for that sort of thing you should totally have been at Camp Bestival last weekend. Those kids had…