I’ve sat here, in front of my laptop now for forty five minutes. If that’s not a testament to the very subject that I’m trying to write about, then I don’t know what is.
A few weeks ago, I was at Dubai’s tacky somewhat-but-not theme park, Global Village. I won a giant flamingo on some little ducky fishing game (and when I say giant, I mean GIANT), went a ride on the highest swings, and was then happily chomping my way through a chocolate chip ice cream cone dusted with … Continue reading TO MY SEVEN YEAR OLD SELF
On Thursday night, I had a wobbly moment. An albeit brief moment, but a wobbly moment nonetheless. I had a cry on my sofa, then I poured myself a (very large) gin, and I went to bed after about another four of those gins looking like Bridget Jones, only more tragic because I have two cats.