The UK reached a high of 16 degrees today, which necessitated half the population stripping down to shorts and T-shirts in the gloriously mistaken belief that summer had arrived. I sighed at the way the British* so wholeheartedly leap into action the moment the thermostat edges into double figures but conceded that it was perhaps …
My first book Hunting Lila comes out in just over two weeks’ time, and joy, it’s getting rave reviews and will be on the 3 for 2 tables in Smiths and Waterstones throughout August. It’s been a long journey and if you were with me from the start of can we live here you’ll know …
I worry about more stuff here. I stress more about silly inconsequential things. I have to think more – What time train? What shoes? Umbrella? Where’s my oyster card? Can I really afford this second Frappacino? Who are all these people in Heat? Why are they still doing up the same escalator on the Victoria …
Bird song Cool air South east accents (lots of fucking this fucking that) Pints of beer Kettle chips Roast lamb Strawberries and raspberries Croquet Beer bellies Bad fashion (I’m in the provinces) It’s light still at 7pm! Aggression Wine wine wine Goat’s cheese An English country garden complete with roses and um, I don’t know …
For those of you who’ve followed us since the beginning you’ll remember that our reasons for leaving the UK were numerous. We wrote these reasons on post-its and stuck them on the wall of our bedroom in south east London before we decided to up stix and get the hell out of dodge. The reasons …
It’s John’s birthday next week. I took him out for an early celebration on Sunday. We went to buy a drum. But the man is fussier about drums than he is about socks. Anyway, then he got a massage (not from me – don’t be stupid) and then dinner. I did a search online and …
Singapore. It was a year almost to the day that we landed in Singapore after three months in India. It felt like landing in another galaxy far, far away. Everything was so shiny and intergalactic and air conditioned after the noise and dirt and chaos of Mumbai, it was a culture shock unlike any I …
The lady over the road sells clothes. We’re not talking Topshop here. Hell, we’re not even talking Primark. And when we first moved in I kind of had a glance at the random assortment of bintang t-shirts and fisherman’s trousers hanging up, sighed deeply and silently to myself about the fashion vortex that is Bali, …
Oh dear. It all started about ten days ago. A concert Afro Moses Cool Franti’s Villa Pool Party Awesome Raise money Raffle Fundraiser ‘Sarah can you ask Leila to be a raffle girl?’ ‘Ooooh I like, like one of those 1950s cigarette girls’ ‘Yeah, short skirt, a little hat, part men from their cash …
This is government office. Dress respectfully. Oh dear. I look down at my dress. Topshop maxi. Slit up the thigh on both sides. Slit at the sides, to the waist. At least I am wearing a bra though. And knickers. You can see both. They’re black. Fail in the respectfully dressed stakes. Shit, I think. …
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