The mind of a four year old is a wonderfully unpredictable thing. Whereas with adults I can pretty easily predict the direction a conversation will take, with Orla I frequently land in discussions that aren’t even on the map. So it is that her new favourite thing is the ‘I hate game’. What started as a teasing
I was relaying some of the amazing stuff that’s been happening for me to my friend Hannah recently, and she said to me “you’re flying!” And it made me pause, because I feel like I’m doing anything but. I’m chasing my tail and burning the candle so universally that it’s now just a puddle of wax.
No, not a handy guide for the new orange leader of the free world – though Lord knows he could probably use it. One of the most common questions I get about my interiors, other than ‘where is your bed from?’ (It was custom-built in the house before we bought it, I’m afraid. I just
I didn’t always understand Snapchat. It took me a while to get my head around it, to be honest – wasn’t it just for sexting? Why else would the pictures need to be temporary, and users alerted to screenshots? When people starting to ask for my username in growing numbers, I just assumed I was becoming increasingly
What a year! The events of the last week must surely form the icing on a 2016-cake built of bullshit, bitterness and death. I’m increasingly convinced that David Bowie may have been the glue holding our entire world together. It’s been a toughie on a personal level, too – losing two people to irreparable disagreements, after
Can we talk about small things for a moment? About the impossibly sweet and nostalgic accoutrements of childhood. A little blue cardigan hanging from a big hallway hook. Miniature shoes lined in tidy little rows. Small, pudgy hands clutching smaller, balding Sylvanian rabbits, who in turn hold impossibly tiny jugs and teapots and cakes. Most days I am immune
I was raised on a diet of homemade cake & gingerbeer. Not literally, you understand, but of the literary sort – hours spent gorging on books by Enid Blyton and Arthur Ransome. The Famous Five, Swallows & Amazons. A head full of island adventures in rolling British countryside, even as my body lay in quiet,
This is the post that google did not deliver. I searched for it over and over again : stores like COS, minimalist fashion online – but only ever seemed to hit the same three or four results. First up: when I say minimalist here I’m referring to the style and aesthetic, rather than the lifestyle
Europe, I love you. I love Venice in October when the sun is low over the cold lagoon. I love the fantasyof living over Shakespeare Co, earning my keep by selling dusty old books in the morning light of the Marais. I’ve been to the States and loved it, but Europe is something magical, and it’s