Hen Parties, Races and the Cheese Factor

No sash, no badges, no inflatable penises, no strippers, no tutus, no tiaras and no hen party traditional tat.  That was my explicit instructions to my hens, but did these chicks listen? Did they shite! My Maid of Honour spent many frustrating weeks trying to get some sort of idea from me as to what…

Dead Bones & Dickhead Dancing

Don’t ask me how I have dead bones – I have absolutely no idea!  So far, it’s just in my knees although the knock on effect makes me feel like my entire skeleton is fecked and I am one fall away from a mobility scooter.  The reality is probably more like, I am one fall…

The Evil That Is Hangovers

Has the night before ever been worth the torture you endure the next morning?  I am attempting to write this article coherently, however the weird floatie things bobbing in front of my eyeballs are just too distracting.  This morning I had feebly begged my husband to take the kids to Stagecoach for me.  My daughter…

New Years Eve Bashing

What are you doing for New Year then?  There was a time when this question would be followed with excited gossip and a swapping of intended party itineraries. Nowadays the response is a grunt of irritation topped off with a competitive ‘who’s had the worst New Year ever’ conversation.  My cheerful chatter was successfully slapped…