Day 20: Things I’ve cried at in the past 24 hours

Oh, hi there. Nothing to see here, just a woman now sort-of in her late twenties but still very much under the impression her age, looks, and penchant for terrible hair cuts paused at 22, crying into a supermarket trolley, improvised buddha bowl, chocolate pavlova. Whatever happens to be close-to-hand and weirdly inappropriate. Thankfully, salt… Continue reading Day 20: Things I’ve cried at in the past 24 hours

Day 19: Ok, I’m turning this into a food blog now (because there’s not enough of those)

Ok, it is 21:09. I have 21 minutes to write the absolute bejaysus (do we think this is a plausible spelling) out of this entry before I positively PLUMMET back into Modern Love and the chocolate pavlova awaiting assembly downstairs. (Note to the long-time readers: I know you're thinking that I'm breaking my strict, vehemently-principled… Continue reading Day 19: Ok, I’m turning this into a food blog now (because there’s not enough of those)

Day 18: She sleeps alone.

Pros of lockdown: No longer having that feeling, as you fall asleep celibate and alone, that every other twenty-something is out there having passionate sex with all and sundry. Cons of lockdown: Falling asleep, celibate and alone. Pros of lockdown: Sisters being legally prevented from seeing their boyfriends and love interests, making them seem every… Continue reading Day 18: She sleeps alone.

Day 17: Why is my sister hitting a sliotar with a surfboard?

Today has been a funny day. Funny as in strange (not sure if you've come across this word in emails much recently - it's usually found sandwiched in between the words 'these' and 'times' which are themselves preceded by "I hope this finds you well and safe." For example, I was glass of wine in… Continue reading Day 17: Why is my sister hitting a sliotar with a surfboard?

Day 15: It’s been SEVEN hours and FIFTEEN days

Since you took my pints away. Ah-ah-ah-ahhhhhhhha. Can't go out any night so sleep all day. Since you trapped me in 2k. (wistful side-eye) Since lockdown can't barely do a thing I waaaaaahnt. I can't see any ma boos. (looks down tearfully) Wah-ah-ah-ahaaaaaaa Can't even eat my brunch in an overpriced restauraaawwwwnt (defiantly raises head,… Continue reading Day 15: It’s been SEVEN hours and FIFTEEN days

Day 14: Simon Harris is HOW old??

I'm going to keep this short (mainly because I'm very behind on life admin and also - beer?) I'm worried with these diaries I'm not giving you a good enough insight into the daily goings-on of my life. I'm too fond of the detail to give an overall context. By you, I of course mean… Continue reading Day 14: Simon Harris is HOW old??

Day 13: Of course Monday the 13th is a frigging shit show.

Here's the thing about bad moods. While I can understand them objectively and am a firm believer in their importance and solidity in the vast landscape of our feelings, I am just not very good at them. As much as I try to accept I'm having a bad day, as much as I call it… Continue reading Day 13: Of course Monday the 13th is a frigging shit show.

Day 12: My level of fear does not correlate to the amount of alcohol I drank

Here's the deal. My sister and I have nominated Friday as fag* night or, more alliteratively, Fag Friday because imagination and any soup├žon of political correctedness and/or fear of ridicule went out the window with coronavirus. By doing this just once last week, we've now created a whole tradition that feels as old and inherent… Continue reading Day 12: My level of fear does not correlate to the amount of alcohol I drank