Tag: book of days

Around Here

And so, Isla is nearly two.  I’m finding this harder to deal with than last year.  But I’m hoping she’ll let me share her cake.  That’ll help, yeah? In related news, Neil and I recently celebrated three...

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Coffee, Castles and Carnage

I’ve loved movies since I cried during Follow That Bird and my Dad took me to My Left Foot and called it research. Whether it’s at home with a bowl of burnt popcorn, or in a plush seat at the theatre, I don’t...

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The Lost Day (Or Two)

I went to a New Year’s Eve party with shotguns taped to my chair.  They were plastic. The party was post-apocalyptic.  Because, y’know, the world is supposed to end in this year.  Depending on whom you speak to.  I think we’re...

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Got Glue?

Well.  It happened.  I called both my parents and told them before they read it online.  My friends can’t believe it’s actually true.  And we weren’t even drunk. As per a new tradition, Sarge and I met for coffee after work on...

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Nine To Thirty

There are nine days until my 30th birthday.  In light of these single digit days, I have revamped my 29 list: Call Embassy if passport doesn’t appear. Write blog posts that aren’t lists. Outline new projects. Read my...

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How To Have A Really Bad Cold

I’ve never been a good stuffed up person.  I’ve never liked taking naps, ask my parents.  The last time I slept during the during the day, I’d had all my wisdom teeth out the day before. Last week, my body was...

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The State Of My Head

Some of you may remember my quest to get back to my natural hair colour before I turn 30…next month. I went shopping yesterday, something I don’t do very often.  My roots/fake colour in a full-length mirror was a...

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My Island Diaries

Tuesday 28th December 2010 We say we’ll be on the road by 10.00.  It is noon before we set off.  I am wedged in the backseat between some bags, two tires and Sarge.  By 3.00, I have lost feeling in my ass.  I find it again when...

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Nothing Says 'I Love You' Like WD-40

We went back to Glasgow last weekend to help Dad and Anne decorate their tree and see some friends. The younger-than-us people sitting across from us on the train thought we were Mormon, because of Sarge’s beard.  We figured...

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Kissing On The Stairs

I like snow.  When it’s falling outside my window, lit by street lamps and I’m inside, curled up with a book and hot chocolate, I love snow.  When I’m out in snow being pulled backwards and neither eight years old nor on a sled,...

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