'Meet the baby that has never eaten a carb'

The title should be 'Meet the baby who has never eaten rubbish in her life.'

Today in the Daily Mail I came across this story http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-3353702/Shan-Cooper-s-baby-girl-Grace-paleo-diet.html

The title is 'Meet the baby that has never eaten a carb'

Very misleading and very untrue.

The story is about Brisbane mother Shan Cooper and her baby daughter Grace who both follow the paleo diet.

This is a definition of the diet which I found online:

Paleo diet/ˈpalɪəʊ dʌɪət/


noun
a diet based on the types of foods presumed to have been eaten by early humans, consisting chiefly of meat, fish, vegetables, and fruit and excluding dairy or cereal products and processed food.


So, this mother is encouraging her daughter to eat a pretty healthy diet, shame on her for not feeding her daughter orange crap out of a jar.

When I had Scarlett, her insides must have been completely orange because of the the packet and jar foods I gave her, I didn't have time and I couldn't be bothered to prepare things for when we went out. Good on this woman for making her childs diet as healthy as she can.

Basically this is a story to entice people to have a go at this woman for allowing her baby to follow a 'diet' however it is not really a diet, it is a lifestyle for them.

Since when was it a bad thing to feed your child a healthy diet instead of shoving chicken nuggets and chips down their throats?

'Grace enjoys eating stemmed broccoli and potatoes' oh, hello carbs.

Grace is not fed processed bread (carbs), and for her birthday cake her mother made her a strawberry panacotta with coconut cream.

Ms Cooper said: 'If she eats a piece of bread, I'm not going to have a conniption.

'She's going to go to kids' parties and eat what's there.

'I'm never going to go to Grace, "you can't eat anything at this party- but I packed you some kale, here you go.'

In my eyes, all this mother is trying to do is educate her daughter to make healthy decisions by giving her the best diet she can, and when her child is old enough she will let her make her own choices about food.

What a shame that a paper has to write such a negative take on something that can really only be a positive thing.

Read the story and let me know what you think.

My very own dirty banana

Ever since I went to St Lucia a couple of years ago, I have dreamed about recreating the dirty banana cocktail that I spent my days drinking while lounging in the bar pool.

Ahh, the memories...

But I think I have re-created it!

I looked at the two sad bananas in the fruit bowl this morning and was reaching in the fridge to throw the coconut milk away that was on the turn when I just thought, why not chuck them together?

I am so sick of eating at the moment. Being in a new relationship means that we have been taking eating to a new level. Take last night for example when we ate hunters chicken with extra cheese, with fries with melted cheese and barbeque sauce on and then mixed the two together with a melt in the middle cheesecake for dessert. I feel sick again just thinking about it.

So I threw the bananas into the blender along with 400ml of coconut milk, a couple of ice cubes, a pinch of brown sugar and ta-dah!

My own dirty banana!

I will add that the one in St Lucia had chocolate syrup and rum, but it has just gone 10am so I will wait for at least an hour before I hunt down the Malibu.

Zesty balls

Balls, glorious balls

This recipe is from 'Get the Glow' by Madeleine Shaw who I am kind of obsessed with at the moment in my aim to be a bit healthier. (don't tell her that I ate five digestive biscuits while making these.) I have posted this recipe before but this time I played around with it a little bit.

The standard recipe is for raw chocolate balls:

Ingredients

100g hazelnuts
100g desiccated coconut
100g fresh dates
50g raw cocao
3tbsp coconut oil and
pinch of salt

With the balls I made, I grated the zest of one orange and squeeze the juice into the mix to make chocolate orange balls, which were delicious.

Then I saw that I had loads of raisins in my cupboard and decided to make another batch of balls replacing the dates with raisins which actually worked, just. The mixture took a bit longer coming together but they tasted just a good. I split the batch in half and to one half added the zest and juice of one lemon.

I call them....zesty balls

I will play around with the balls again, I'm thinking about making them with the standard recipe and then coating them in melted chocolate, orange zest and flakes of gold.

My very own golden balls. Mmmmmmmm.

'Shhuuut uuuppp!'

This morning when I went to wake Scarlett up, I did my usual cheery 'Wakey, Wakey! Time to get up.' Turned the bedroom light on and she pulled the duvet over her head and told me in no uncertain terms to 'shut up.'

My reaction was to try not to laugh as it was so unexpected and how I would feel if I had just woken up and someone shouted 'wakey, wakey' in my face.

On reflection though I wondered of I should have told her off.

If I had been six year old and told my parents to shut up, I would have got the third degree about how I was not brought up to say things like that to them.

Parents should be respected (apparently), have times changed so much from when we were growing up and we have become our children's friends rather than their parents?

Is it ever acceptable for a child to tell their parents to shut up? I would expect if from a teenager-which still wouldn't be right, but not from a sweet little girl.

Is it my fault she said it?

I remember when I was 18 and was being driven into town by a friends mum. My friend openly swore at her mum and I was stunned into silence because I had never heard any one swear at their parents before and also because her mum didn't tell her off, she just carried on driving.

I have barely ever said a swear word in front of my parents, don't get me wrong, I can swear like a navvy if I'm on the wine and out with my mates, but generally I don't swear in front of them because I respect them and don't want them to hear me use language like that.

Though I should take this opportunity to apologise to them for the time I uttered approximately 1,000 swear words in under a minute when I was on the phone to my ex boyfriend- but that was necessary in that circumstance.

Though the moment has passed and there is no point in telling Scarlett off now, if she says it again should I tell her off?

These days we are taught to let our children express themselves, to let them show us their true character- there is a line, but where is it?

Five things I learned looking after 3 kids yesterday

Yesterday I decided to have a girlie day with my daughter and my boyfriend's two daughters.

In my head I had planned a lovely relaxing trip to the cinema, followed by a delicious and nutritious lunch at Mc Donald's rounded off with a bit of retail therapy.

Yep it all went totally to plan, and I did learn a thing or five.

1. I now know why I only had one child.

The majority of mothers have one child and then decide to have another. I started my motherhood dream with four children in mind, this went down to three after I had Scarlett and gradually as the months went by, so did my dream of more children.

Scarlett is six and an only child, some people may see this as selfish 'she shouldn't be on her own it's not fair.' Blah, blah.

I will tell you what is not fair, going grey at 19, not having enough money to buy anything decent (for her or me), the lack of holidays, and the fact that I will probably never own my own house until my parent die (sorry Mum and Dad).

Luckily for me I have found a boyfriend with two lovely daughters and a son, so while Scarlett is not on her 'own' they do not live with us full time. It would take a bit of getting used to if we did have all four kids with us at once, the reality of the situation at the moment is that we are a split family but if anything did change I would love to see all of them more- but I would have to stock up on multivitamins and go on a silent retreat at least once a year.

2. A 'cheap' cinema morning will not be 'cheap'.

I thought it was a bargain when I bought 3 children tickets and one adult for the cinema for under £12.00, that was until we got to the sweets.

I let the girls choose their own sweets, big mistake (Every savvy parent knows you should go to Tesco and stock up before hand), then I bought them all drinks (another error- see bracket before this one). When the young boy behind the counter told me he wanted nearly £20.00 I choked on the popcorn I was shovelling into my mouth (and was yet to pay for), and thanked him sarcastically as I mopped my brow and calmed my heart.

3. Mc Donald's is not the place to be at 1pm on a Saturday.

Another fabulous idea we have as parents have is a trip to Maccy D's on a Saturday lunch time. WHY?!

I knew it would be packed, a trip to the drive thru would have been easier and I would have been able to sit down.

I ate my happy meal (so that the could have an extra toy as I am nice like that), standing up squashed between tables looking around at the other parents doing the same thing.

I will never make this mistake again- the drive thru will win every time so I can sit in the drivers seat and enjoy my food without getting indigestion.

4. Buying something for one child is not possible.

I had to buy some new shoes and a coat for ONE of the girls. After measuring the feet of the child I intended to buy shoes for, I was hit by cries of 'I want new shoes!' and 'I want to measure my feet!' by the other girls.

Needless to say we left the shop without anything and I paid for them all to go on a merry-go-round, where they proceeded to throw their soft toys and moan at me to get them as they were flying through the air.

5. Children are a great way to avoid those charity fundraisers in town

Usually when I go through town and see a charity fundraiser trying to sign me up to give £3.00 a month for saving the trees or whatever cause they work for, I do what everyone else does and side step away from them as soon as I spot them. (I'm not being mean, I sponsor a dog and give to various charities throughout the year.) However, this time because I knew I looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights with three kids in tow, I practically walked into one of them without fear and said: 'I'm sorry I have three kids with me, I can't possibly stop.' The fundraiser looked at me sympathetically and told me to 'try and have a good day!'

For our next girlie day we are going swimming- ha just kidding, we will be having a movie duvet day with treats bought from Tesco and Pizza Hut on speed dial.

Raw chocolate avocado mousse

This is a recipe that I tried out from 'Get the glow' by Madeline Shaw.

This dessert apparently has 'satisfaction guaranteed' however, I will admit I was sceptical about the avocado.

It doesn't look very appetising at first sight with its odd shape and bumpy dark green skin, until today I had made it through 26 years of my life without touching one, but always one to try something different I gave this mousse a go, avocado and all.

The instructions are pretty straight forward and consist of shoving everything into a blender and...blending- not even I could mess that up.

Then came the tricky part, fitting two wine glasses into the freezer to chill them for half an hour.

After some re-arranging (and the sacrificing of some peas), I forced them in and shut the door praying that they tasted as good as they looked.

After half an hour I removed the mousses from the freezer and battled to find space for them in the fridge. The only thing I could sacrifice this time was some wine but that was no bad thing, apart from the fact that there was mousse in my only two wine glasses.

Mug of wine in hand, I dipped into my pudding. The taste was an unusual one. Not a bad one but, a different one.

I think my taste buds were shocked at the lack of sugar but after eating one mousse, the second quickly disappeared.

I will make these again, but I might have to add some crushed digestives on the top just to give it that extra crunch.

Ingredients:

1 ripe avocado, stoned and flesh scooped out
1 ripe banana, peeled
3 tbsp coconut oil
4 tbs raw cacao powder
pinch sea salt
100ml almond milk, coconut milk or rice mile plus extra if needed
1 handful frozen raspberries (I used a sprinkling of desiccated coconut and some dried goji berries

Instructions:

Put the avocado, banana, coconut oil, cacao powder and salt into the blender and blend. Slowly add the milk until the mixture becomes creamy and easily moves around the blender, add a little extra milk if needed.

Pour the mousse into two ramekins or cocktail glasses (or wine glasses), then put them in the freezer for 30 minutes before transferring to the fridge.

Crumble the raspberries/coconut/other berries/biscuits onto the top of the dessert and enjoy. Add a little honey for some added sweetness.

Flourless red velvet recipe

I found this recipe on www.weheartliving.com and I looked and sounded so different and delicious that I just had to give it a try.

With everyone becoming more and more health conscious, some so-called 'healthy' food can be a bit bland and boring, but this pudding packs a hearty beetroot punch that will leave you wanting more.

Ingredients (serves 12)

Sunflower or vegetable oil, for greasing

200g dark/ bittersweet chocolate (70% cocoa solids), broken into small pieces

300g raw beetroot (about two medium-sized ones), washed and roughly chopped

6 eggs, separated

100g soft brown sugar

2tsp vanilla extract

75g ground almonds

125g Greek yogurt

1tbsp icing sugar or cocoa powder, for dusting

Method

Preheat the oven to 180ºC. Grease a 20cm/8in round loose-bottomed or spring clip cake pan with a little oil.

Melt the chocolate in a small heatproof bowl set over a pan of gently simmering water, making sure the bottom of the bowl does not come into contact with the water. Alternatively gently melt on a low heat in the microwave. Stir occasionally until the chocolate has melted.

Put the beetroot in a food processor, add 80ml water, and blitz to a smooth purée, stopping and scraping down the sides when necessary.

Using an electric mixer, beat egg yolks with the sugar until thick and creamy. Stir in the beetroot purée, melted chocolate, vanilla extract, ground almonds and Greek yogurt, until completely mixed.

In a separate bowl, whisk the egg whites until thick and they hold a firm peak when the whisk is lifted. Gently fold into the chocolate mixture until all of the egg white is combined. Transfer to the prepared pan and bake for 35 minutes until the centre is just firm. (To check, you can insert a skewer into the middle of the torte and if it comes out clean it is cooked). If not, continue to cook for a further five minutes. Turn off the heat and leave the torte in the oven for 10 minutes before removing.

Leave the torte to cool in the pan for about 30 minutes before serving warm, or leave to cool to room temperature.

Dust with icing sugar or cocoa powder and serve cut into wedges.

Any torte not eaten on the day of baking can be stored in the fridge for up to three days.

Recipe courtesy of Jo Wheatley and https://www.bbcgoodfoodshowwinter.com

Who is this elf?

I keep hearing about this 'Elf on the shelf'.

I had heard of it and thought it was a movie or something, but after being bugged by this little elf who keeps popping up all over the place I decided to do some light 'Googling' to find out more about the little blighter.

The following is from: http://www.elfontheshelf.com

The Elf on the Shelf®: A Christmas Tradition includes a special scout elf sent from the North Pole to help Santa Claus manage his naughty and nice lists. When a family adopts a scout elf and gives it a name, the scout elf receives its Christmas magic and can fly to the North Pole each night to tell Santa Claus about all of the day's adventures. Each morning, the scout elf returns to its family and perches in a different place to watch the fun. Children love to wake up and race around the house looking for their scout elf each morning.

There are two simple rules that every child knows when it comes to having a scout elf. First, a scout elf cannot be touched; Christmas magic is very fragile and if a scout elf is touched it may lose that magic and be unable to fly back to the North Pole. Second, a scout elf cannot speak or move while anyone in the house is awake! A scout elf's job is to watch and listen.

Scout elves typically appear in their families’ homes at the beginning of the holiday season. On Christmas Eve, the scout elves return to the North Pole with Santa Claus—until next year!

I have decided to do my own version as the actual Elf on the shelf freaks me out and I don't want to pay the ridiculous price of £29.95 on Tesco.com for the little creature. He looks too good for his own good, and too creepy to be sitting on a shelf.

Meet my version 'Nutty on the nob' (yes, I need to work on the name and tag line). 

He will magically appear in various places in the house everyday (preferably hanging from a nob, though I have noted that the elf is not always sat on a shelf, so I am guessing it is a flexible tagline.) Today he is not on a nob but on a handle as there are not very many nobs in this house. 

Look out for Nutty throughout the month, I have a feeling it will be an exciting month for him. 

10 things I have learned living with two guys

Living with one man is hard enough (though I will give credit where it is due, my boyfriend is a brilliant housewife at the weekends), but my boyfriend has a housemate and two men, one woman, and every other weekend six kids crammed into one space can be testing at times to say the least.

It is not the kids that are the problem though, it's the grown men.

Here are 10 things I have learnt while living with both of them, which may be tips for you if you find yourself in the same boat as me.

(If you are, call me, we need to go out for a well deserved drink!)


1. Toilet paper needs to be bought by the truckload.

For some reason every other day we run out of toilet paper. I'm not quite sure what we all do with it, There are three toilets in the house and yet when I looked in each of them this morning, there were two tiny squares left on one lonely roll.


2. Number 2's.

Men seem to think that toilets clean themselves, or that little poo cleaning fairies come along in the night with their teeny tiny toilet brushes and scrub away. I cleaned all three when I moved in as yellow/ orange is not the colour the bottom of a toilet should be. My boyfriend's response to me telling him to go into each bathroom and inspect the toilet: "Oh, I didn't realise they were white."
My response: "Make sure they stay like that because I'm not doing it again."

3. Nothing is off limits.

Men talk as women expect them too, it's sex, sex, sex. I have problem talking about it, and can happily chat about it for hours but 24/7 is a bit tedious and sometimes I just want to talk to someone about what has been going on it Corrie.


4. New words will be learned.

Chad= Arse. Did you know that? Nope me neither, there are copious amounts of other words that I have learnt since being in the company of two men, however they are too rude to write here.


5. People presume I am having a threesome.

That is not the case, though walking out of the front door sandwiched between two men may look a little suspicious. It's hard enough to keep up with one man, let alone two. Sometimes a girl just needs a bath and an early night - ALONE.


6. The oven and hob get neglected.

Those magical fairies in blokes minds (the ones I live with), must be working overtime. They believe there is one who pops on her rubber gloves, gets her Mr Muscle out and cleans the food grease out of the oven and off the hob. Oh, and the walls and ceiling. (How? I don't know.)

7. Nothing has a 'place'.

Everything is just left where it was discarded. I am not the tidiest person in the world, but there are socks that have been left behind the bathroom sink for days which I refuse to put in the washing machine. (They are still there, today is day five.)


8. "I promise we will not come back drunk."

This needs no explanation. Though I do need to go and see a chiropractor after I hauled my boyfriend up 2 flights of stairs last week when he went out for 'an hour' with his housemate.

9. Clothing is essential.

Walking around naked if you just live with your boyfriend would be acceptable, walking around naked with your boyfriend and his housemate in tow is not good. I forget all of the time there is another male in the house and walk out of the bedroom naked. Luckily, I usually only make it halfway down to the first floor before I have realised and run back upstairs to cover my 'Bridget Jones' wobbly bits.


10. Guys are actually really good at giving advice. The three of us have had some fantastic nights in and out discussing relationships and life. I have come to the conclusion that I am actually pretty lucky to live with both of them, even if I do have to morph into a magical fairy.

(Though there will come a time Bill, when we want you to move out- just saying, don't get too comfortable.)

Official mud monster

I thought a 5k race would take me half an hour, what a fool!

I stupidly didn’t read what I was getting myself into because I just wanted the title of ‘Mud Monster’.

Why? I don’t know because I don’t even like mud that much, even less so now that I am still picking it out of my ears over a week later.

As for the race taking half an hour, I misjudged that by about an hour and a half.

Thank goodness I went for the 5k race and didn’t push myself to do the 10k or even the 20k race, I am not exaggerating when I say that I would not be here right now, I’m pretty sure I would have ended up in hospital.

It started off ok, the sun was shining and we did a gentle warm up before we set off, I though it was a lovely way to spend a Sunday.

The first challenge were hay bales that were covered in plastic sheeting, I thought at the time that it was going to be easy if that was what it was going to be like the whole way round, but by thinking that, I stupidly set myself up for an epic fall into a deep, muddy bog.

I had images of the moment in Titanic when Jack and Rose were in the ocean freezing to death, when my body fell not so gracefully into the brown water.

Screaming didn’t help as that only made another place for the mud to go.

I ran as fast as I could when I had clawed myself out of the hole, but I just looked like a was one of those cartoon characters where their legs move but they don’t go anywhere because the grass was so slippery.

Laughter really is the best medicine in situations like that and it really helped me get around the course.

I completely forgot about the hay bales at the beginning of the course as I climbed under cargo nets, over walls and carried tyres-which I have added to the list of things I hate, I can honestly say that I will never carry a tyre again in my life.

What took me by surprise more than anything else though were the other people that I was with. Being on my own, I was very vulnerable. The course was slippery and relentless but whenever I came to a part where I needed help, there was always someone there for me.

They encouraged me, and at one point a group of boys even held a branch for me to grab hold of when I couldn’t get out of a bog. I will always be grateful to everyone that helped me because I really, truthfully couldn’t have got through it by myself. It wasn’t physical possible.

The hardest part was when I came to a sign that said I had run 2k, which meant that I still had 3k to go. I felt like crying.

I’m not one to give up, but at that moment I wanted to scream and walk away. The trouble was that I was in 170 acres of fields and had no idea how to get back, my only option was to suck it up carry on with the rest of the course.

Eventually after nearly two hours, I made it to the end of the course happier than ever to see a shower- even though it was a cold one.

Though it was an experience and I am glad that I did it, I think that for the next few Sundays I will stay on my sofa and earn the title of ‘biscuit monster’.

"Oh, hello you look lovely today."

Hello, is it me you're looking for?

Everything has been manic over the past few weeks, Christmas has come knocking (how on earth did that happen?) and I don't even remember Easter happening.

Everything in life has been going well, Scarlett is now six and cheekier than ever. I am no longer a spinster, I have nearly finished my journalism course and will be an intern at a magazine in London in the new year which means I will be living there during the week. Life is pretty good at the moment, for me anyway.

There have been horrors going on in the world throughout the year, atrocities which are becoming more and more frequent. It makes everything around us seem a little darker and today I woke up and thought, why not try to spread some happiness and share some light.

My idea is simple (obviously), a compliment a day to a stranger.

I kicked off today by telling a woman what beautiful colour nail varnish she had. She looked genuinely pleased and we had a chat for about five minutes about our nails.

That is all it could take to make someone's day become a little brighter.

I am aware I am not Mother Theresa, but why not try and be a bit more positive?

I will tweet everyday with #acomplimentaday and hopefully it will catch on and everyone can share the compliments they have said to strangers.

Interview with local businessman Richard Ruthven owner of Charlene's Chocolate Factory.

Local chocolatier Richard Ruthven took his passion and sweet tooth to create Charlene's Chocolate Factory, which he launched in April 2015 after the birth of his daughter Charlene. He creates unusual but delicious combinations of flavours, which look almost too good to eat. Richard also creates bespoke bars for even the most unconventional of ideas, so get thinking and get in touch with him.

Here Richard takes us from the beginning of Charlene's Chocolate Factory, to where he is now just a few months later...


How did the idea for Charlene's Chocolate Factory come about?

I have been a chef for over 12 years and have always had a passion for desserts and sweet dishes. Chocolate has always been an interest of mine. So when my daughter was born I was inspired to start my own business. Currently 10% of the profits go to her and I aim to increase that as we grow as a company.


How easy was it to make your idea a reality?

Easy in one sense, hard in another. It is easy to set up, but it's really hard to get the branding right and to get your name out there. Marketing is a full time job sometimes.


Did you have any set-backs while setting up Charlene's Chocolate Factory?

It was hard getting the name and branding right, I went through 3 or 4 different names and brand ideas before settling on Charlene's Chocolate Factory.

What is the best part about owning Charlene's Chocolate Factory?
Being my own boss and being able to be as creative as I want. I often don't like just doing the norm and I like to always push boundaries and try new things with my cooking. And you don't always get the chance to do that. Although I do need reining in from time to time



What is your favourite flavour of chocolate that you make?

Probably either "semi sweet basil" or "wake me up before you cocoa" and my favourite truffle is "salted caramel with milk chocolate & chilli".


What is the most unusual flavour chocolate you have made?

Probably "love it or hate it" marmite chocolate is always guaranteed to get a reaction, however I have a few unusual flavours like beetroot, basil & rosemary.


Have you had any flavouring blunders that were just too wrong to be right?

Not really, I did try bacon and maple the taste was ok but the texture needs work. Apart from that my first version of basil was a disaster then I eventually got it right


Is there a chocolate which has been discontinued in shops which you would love to bring back?

I always loved Wonka exploder bars, so I would love to do a dark or triple chocolate version.


Do you have any help with the chocolate tasting and testing?

Most of the time I rely on my own palette but I always try out my new recipes on family, friends and I might try them out as samples at events.


What are your future plans for Charlene's Chocolate Factory?

I would love to open a shop specialising in hand made truffles as well as our bars. I have so many ideas that I want to do which would only translate well if I had a shop premises.


Do you have any events coming up which readers can catch you at?

I am currently booked into The Tudor Close Farmers and Craft Market which takes place every second Saturday in Ferring, with the next one taking place on October 10th from 10am. I am also at the Emporium in Worthing town centre every third Saturday, and any local food festivals when I can. I always post where I will be on my Facebook page and I would encourage everyone to like my page for updates on new events and products.

Curiosity killed the cat.

But I bet someone made a good story out of it. 

The above was my motto for finding my stories today.

This afternoon I walked over the A27, climbed through a potentially lethal fence, met some cows and I am here (in a pub), to tell the tale.  

I was on the prowl, exploring my new territory. I had my lead but I had to go on an epic hunt, and an unexpected hike. 

Patcham in Sussex was a place which I hadn't been to before, but now I can safely say that I know my way around quite well. 

When me and my fellow trainees started at journalist works, we were given patches around Brighton to report on and Patcham is one of mine.

I knew a story here that I wanted to work on, so the first thing I did was find a cafe and get some food. Everyone works better with food inside them.

Stomach satisfied, it was time to work.

I wasn't anticipating going on needing walking poles to get around. 

I found myself slipping and sliding down a hill, while dodging dogs and protecting my throat (they can smell my fear!) 

I powered through as I was on a mission and I wanted to get to my story, even if it meant going through the wilderness and encountering my four legged enemies.  

I was glad to discover that if my trek took me into the night, there was food. 

Yes I had just eaten lunch but it's always comforting to know that there is food around.

My best hurdle on my hunt was this bent wire fence.

I don't know if you can see, but it's all bent out of shape. A fence is supposed to keep people out, this one clearly isn't  up to the job. 

Normal people may have turned back and given up, but my daughter aways says: "Explorers don't give up!"

So I did a quick check to make sure it wasn't electric, took the fact that I didn't receive a shock as a good thing and plodded ahead.

Now, I've never been one for heights. I had a panic attack when I was 11 on the climbing apparatus at school and refused to come down as I was too petrified to move.

I was about five foot in the air, so can you imagine what was going through my head when I saw this...

It may not look high in a picture, but I'll tell you, it was more than five foot.  

I closed my eyes walked across the bridge, only to realise I was where I didn't want to be and had to go back over it again.

It was a relief when I found a bench.

There was a note on it to a grandad that passed away two years ago, I found some tiny flowers and placed them on the bench along with my bottom. (The flowers in the picture were with the card when I got there. You can't see the ones I put there.) 

After walking for what felt like days (it had been three hours), I found a pub. 

It wasn't what I was aiming for, (that's a lie, I'm always aiming to get to a pub), but the locals have directed me to what I'm hoping is treasure. 

Curiosity has lead me to a good place. 

The above is Appletiser in a wine glass as I'm driving. It did amuse a few people when I ordered it, but everything tastes better from a wine glass. 

Drill, drill, drill.

Drilling is a battle between my hand, my eyes, my mouth and my head. 

If anything, it feels like I have drilled a hole into the side of my head and that's where all of the shorthand I have been practicing is seeping out of my brain. 

After another drill session last night (is it called drill because you literally have to be as strict as a drill sergeant to not watch Coronation Street and instead do some studying? Oh, how I miss those cobbles), and throwing my pencil across the room in frustration, I formulated a plan. 

I would make my five-year-old daughter Scarlett help me! 

Anyone who has ever flicked through the pages of a shorthand book will know that it looks like another language, so how could a five-year-old possibly understand it? Bear with, it's a good idea, well in my opinion it is. 

I mastered a plan and made cue cards so that Scarlett could hold the cards up, while I read the shorthand word out loud. 

On the back I wrote the word in plain English so that she could read it, as she is a bit slow (lazy), when it comes to reading. 

Ta-dah! Two birds, one stone. We both get our homework done with minimal fuss! 

That was the theory, then came the practice. 

My main hope in making the cue cards was to get used to reading shorthand naturally, and not just as a jumbled up scribble, and I do think that it has helped me. 

By telling Scarlett and my brain that we were playing a game, it didn't seem like hard work. 

Well, until she asked me to explain what I was reading, but I didn't think she was quite ready for the shorthand experience. 

I told her that I would teach her when she was older, maybe. 

Mummy duties completed and part shorthand, I now feel more confident about the words and understand why they are the way that they are in shorthand. 

Now it's back to drilling to really get the words locked in my brain, hopefully the cue cards have plugged the hole and I can smash this shorthand tonight. 

Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work I go. 

One of us - Talk by Al Horner at Journalist Works.

Eminem's song Writers Block includes the lyrics 'I think I'm runnin' out of clichés, I'm gettin' writer's block'.

Well, he made a clanger of a cliché and his biggest mistake writing that he had 'writers block' (which he obviously didn't as he made a song out of it), as writers block is a myth according to Al Horner, deputy editor of NME.com who was our guest speaker today.

Al was speaking as one of us. We listened intently to his every word as a successful editor, who a mere four years ago was in our position as a student at Journalist Works.

He advised us on top tips and gave us examples of how we could improve our writing.

The most important point that I took away from the discussion was to be confident, we ARE journalists. Oh, and of course- writers block is a myth.

Below are the most useful points from the talk that I believe will help me in becoming the best journalist that I can be:

* Find conflict. Challenge the person that you are interviewing.

* Ask the difficult questions first and get stuck in, then ask your other questions.

* Look at your interviewees background, is there something relevant that is happening right now that you can ask them that they can relate to?

* There is politics in everything. Use your subject to paint a broader picture of what is going on in the UK. Try and tap into something bigger.

* Make your intro as compelling as you can, it has to be something that you start reading and can't put down, create intrigue.

* Have faith in your ability as a writer, there is no time for insecurities, you need to hit the ground running.

* Journalism is a confidence game.

* When you think you have finished your piece, read it back and imagine you are reading it to a mate down the pub. -Note that this may not apply to all writing but it is useful to think about in feature writing.

* The best writing is loose, conversational, fun and interesting. (Again, bear in mind who you are writing for, it may not be appropriate in all instances.)

* Go against the grain, write a piece from an angle that the readers may not have thought of before.

* Be brave enough to be unpopular and don't waste time worrying about nasty comments, you literally don't have time for that.

* Care about what your editor, peers and self think about writing the right piece.

* Read everything and anything. Read things from outside of your discipline to find a new angle on a story.

* Don't pitch topics, pitch your story. What is the story? Why are you writing the story? Who are you going to talk to? What steps are you going to take to get the best story?

* Write, write, write. Find websites that you think you could write a piece for and pitch to them stating you will do it for free. (They say nothing comes for free in this life, but you may just get your name out there and who knows where that could lead?)

and lastly

* Writers block is a myth. Just get on with it, look at the above points and get cracking.

Al left me feeling enthused and excited about writing my next feature. My first assignment that I have set myself is to get an interview with Eminem, as I need to inform him that writers block is not a real thing and it is incredibly important that I get this message across to him and all other writers. 

I am a journalist, I can do this! 




(The above picture is of Eminem, not Al Horner, as I was so eager writing down everything he said (with some shorthand too, I was utilising all of my skills), that I didn't actually get a picture of him. I have slapped myself on the wrist for being a bad journalist, it won't happen again!

That is a promise to any of my tutors that may be reading this!

Soggy bottoms. #diaryofafiveyearold

Soggy bottoms are the last thing that we need to worry about in our house, it's the burnt bottoms that need attention. 

I'm Mary Berry in child form, I'm forever asking Mummy to bake with me and I feel a certain amount of respect for her when she forces a smile as she throws a packet cake mix into our weekly shop. 

Wait, did I say respect? I mean disrespect. A cake mix in a box is offensive to me, Mary and all other fellow bakers. 

Seeing as a box is my only option at Mummy's (thank heavens that my Dad is a chef), I chose this one today...

(That's me on the bottom right.) 

Anyway, the box cake mix routine goes like this:

• Throw the packet labelled 'cake mix' into a bowl (no measuring needed, which is useful as we don't own kitchen scales).

• Stir in an egg (whoop!) 

• Scoop the vile looking concoction into their paper homes. 

• Realise that the oven is not switched on and wait while it heats up. 

• When oven is suitably hot, put the cakes in and hope for the best. 

  

Altogether now: Mmmmmmm! 

I was surprised when ten minutes later they came out beautifully risen and though that Mummy had run to the shop when I wasn't looking. 

 

Apart from a little crusting around the edges, they didn't look too bad. 

I asked to put the icing on straight away and Mummy burnt her hand trying to demonstrate that they were too hot at that moment. 

I will admit that I laughed, but I then offered to kiss it better as her face went all red and blotchy and I thought she was going to cry. 

The 'surprise' in the inside out cakes are chocolate beans. Mummy hacked off the top of the cakes and stuck her finger in the middle to make a hole and instructed me to 'shove the beans in'. 

The 'finger in cake to make a hole' instruction was not on the box, but I went along with it as Mummy said that's what you do when I asked 'why?' for the tenth time. Her face had turned from red to blue, so I didn't challenge her anymore.

The end result looked like this...

 

Not a complete triumph, but there were no soggy bottoms or burnt bottoms in sight. 

That's a winner if you ask me.  

First week gone.

I say gone as what we learnt last week, we won't be going over again. Homework is essential during this fast track Journalism course at Journalist Works in Brighton but weirdly after a day of learning, I look forward to going home and reading over my notes and studying for another few hours (Rebecca Frew, did you actually just say that?!)

Even after 6 hours of shorthand on Friday, I still went home and got excited to go over and drill what I had learnt, but when you are doing something that you enjoy it's not really hard at all. (Right, where is Becky and what have you done with her?) 

Though I'm sure not everyone will share my enthusiasm for studying. Blossom Hill will be the most hard hit, I'm sure their profits will dramatically decline as my nights out with the girls will be replaced with nights in and begging friends to say random words so I can practice my shorthand. 

Also ITVbe will see their viewer numbers have one less than before on a daily basis. My real housewives of Miami/Orange County/Cheshire marathons are out of the window as I've replaced pointless TV with reading as many papers as I can in a day. 

As a budding journalist, it will be shocking to read that politics has never really been of any interest to me. Like a lot of people I find it incredibly hard to understand and didn't think that I could actually make a difference -but how wrong I was. 

After a visit from Myfanwy Nixon of MySociety, she showed me that is easier than ever to write to my MP Peter Bottomley and keep up to date with his comments in parliament on debates. 

While I still have a long way to go before I think about running for Prime Minister, I have found myself getting excited when I receive an email telling me about his day in parliament. 

If you had said to me a mere week ago that I would be getting giddy about politics, I would have laughed and told you to get another bottle of wine and 2 LARGE glasses. This course is opening up my eyes. 

This afternoon I went to vox pox, which is basically asking random people a question and getting a quote from them on their view of the question asked. I had actually done it before in Australia but the thought of doing it again made me a bit queasy. 

In Australia eight years ago, I briefly worked at a TV station and we interviewed people about a whole manner of things. When it came to my turn, I asked the public on the streets of Perth about drugs. 

I can't remember my exact question, but I do remember at the end of one particular day when we were wrapping up filming, I saw a group of young people and went up to them to ask about their views on drugs. 

They mainly said they loved them and it was all a bit sad really. The camera was then turned off as bigging up drugs was not the angle that we were going for, but I wasn't finished with the teens. 

I kept pushing them asking them to explain why they liked drugs, why they took them, did they not worry about the  consequences? Then just as I was giving up hope, one girl finally answered me honestly. 

Again, this was eight years ago so I can't remember exactly what she said, all I remember is the cameraman recording again and the producer smiling out of the corner of my eye at the turn of events.

There is a random fact for you, I've been on Australian TV. 

Anyway, so this afternoon I went to a soft play centre in Worthing to ask the public's opinion on a topic that is in the news right now. 

Basically, I chose the noisiest, most disruptive place to talk to people because I (must) like a challenge. 

I sat for half an hour going over my question while summoning up the courage to talk to strangers. I needed five good quotes so I was aiming to speak to ten people. 

I scanned the room and zoned in on the people I wanted to talk to, I then sat in my seat for a further 20 minutes taking deep breaths. 

Going up to people and asking their opinion on something is not natural, not for me anyway. Though I knew I would probably never see people I spoke to again, my stomach was still in knots

It took me a while to get out of my seat but once I got going and actually spoke to people, I really enjoyed it. 

It would have been easier if I had known more shorthand as scribbling down as they spoke was quite hard, but I got there in the end. 

It's good to be pushed out of your comfort zone sometimes. When I need to vox pox again, I feel confident that I will shift my butt quicker and get the job done. 

My only concern it that the opinions are a bit one sided, but I couldn't find anyone who thought what I was asking their opinion on was a good idea. That may be  something that I have to work on when interviewing people, trying to get them to see the other side that they may not have thought of. 

I'm looking forward to week two beginning tomorrow, but for now I must get back to my shorthand homework and drill, drill, DRILL! 

What the?

I'm confused about being confused. 

I'm not sure how you would define what I have been doing, seeing him I suppose. 

While laying in bed this morning the guy that I'm 'seeing' (after he invited himself back to mine even though I had said no as my flat was...well, it could have possibly been referred to as a pigsty and I can't even blame Scarlett as I haven't had her this week), he told me to be honest as to what I really thought about him. 

I had spent the night being quite hard on him because I knew what was going to happen and the senario of us being in bed together and them him going off the radar for a week is becoming as predictable as my Tuesday night pizza night.  

So, I didn't beat around the bush and told him that I thought he was a (excuse the language as I try to refrain from swearing in my blogs as it is unnecessary, but I told him I thought he was -and is- a pr*ck. 

Our morning after the night before routine goes like this:- 

• We wake up entwined and groan at the light. 

• He panics that he has work and then calms down and absent mindedly strokes my arm or holds my hand. 

• I tell him to go and get me a drink (of water, I'm not an alcoholic). 

• He moans at the state of my flat, I tell him I can't afford a maid. 

• He gets back in bed and wraps himself around me. 

• I get hot but fight the urge to pull away as I know it won't last long. 

• I then pull away as I don't want him thinking that I'm soft or have any kind of feelings for him. 

• We chat and at the last possible minute, get up to start the day. 

• We get dressed, I drive him home, we kiss, he dissapears for a week. 

• Friday/Saturday night we start the whole debacle again. 

It's no surprise I haven't heard from him since I dropped him home this morning but funnily enough, I'm sure at around 1am he will message me as it's a Saturday-though two nights in a row is unusual for is. 

The above is the first point of confusion, the other is...the other woman. 

His other woman, not mine. I knew last night that he was messaging someone else and he blatantly told me this morning that he really likes her and he even went as far as saying he felt "guilty" for being with me (while laying next to me naked). 

Why do I feel no guilt and why am I not threatened? Because she's not in the country. She's thousands of miles away. So while they "message every day", it's hardly like I have to worry that I'm going to bump into her on the street. Besides if she was here, I'm sure my bed would be empty at the weekends. Though, he did show a flash of jealousy when I talked about another guy. 

Let's call the guy I'm 'seeing' P for convenience. I spoke to P about another guy that I've been 'seeing' (I'm allowed to see another guy as P is messaging another girl and we are not in any kind of relationship- I'm not putting all of my eggs in one basket, I'm clever) well, P wasn't exactly ecstatic to hear that, then crushed any kind of guilt I had when he said: "I should really reply to her." All together now...PR*CK. 

Funnily enough, both P and the other one I'm seeing have a hate/hate relationship with each other because of me. It's totally unfair because neither of them want to commit but apparently I'm not allowed to see anyone else. I'm single, I can. 

Back to P...this love web gets even more complicated as one of P's friends is involved who I dated a while ago (this all sounds really bad but everyone knows everyone around here), it never went anywhere, so I was astounded when this mate of P's threatened to punch P in the face when he saw us kissing one night! 

Onto the fourth point of confusion...or is it the third? I can't keep up. P has met Scarlett, he played catch with her, then she snuggled up to him on the sofa and he didn't attempt to flee. Nice guy, right? 

Then this morning while I was driving him home I saw a woman with a huge bunch of flowers walking down the street. I joked and said she had got them for him and he said: 'shall I jump out and give them to you? No, you're not the romantic type.' 

Am I not? While I don't really want a relationship, I'm still a girl. Having all of this uncertainty is making me a little uneasy. 

Though I know that nothing in this life is simple, I need some sort of definition before I morph into a real girl and get proper feelings for him, which I'm worried could be pretty soon. 

Falling for someone is a chemical reaction and I don't want to explode.

What the hell am I doing? What the hell is he doing? Life would be so much simpler if Johnny Depp just admitted his feelings for me. I'm going to watch Bridget Jones. 

Not so secret stalking...

I was reading an article in Essentials magazine today about secret stalking...

and I had an epiphany as I read other peoples tales of their secret stalking. From checking ex's Facebook accounts to checking out clients on LinkedIn, the tales could all have been written by me. 

These days it is far too easy to Google people and find out all sorts of information about them. I recently had a little stalking session on my own and realised as I read the above confessions, that may be why I am still waiting for a call from a guy who went on a business trip to 'Holland'. He said he would call me in a week, it's now been 5. 

On my first date with the above guy (I'm going to protect his identity, so I won't reveal his name. For the purpose of this blog, I'm going to call him Dick)...Dick, I confessed that I had Googled him. I knew he had 3 kids from Facebook and that he owned a business which I saw from his LinkedIn profile and I even told him I knew the name of his company. 

His face probably said it all, but I was on my second large glass of Pinot so I wasn't really aware of his expression. I just though I was being bold and by telling him to his face I had stalked him, and I also believed that it demonstrated that I was not to be messed with, as I could find things out about him. 

We went on a couple more dates and then Dick disappeared off to 'Holland.' I nearly text him and asked him when he was coming back so I could surprise him at the airport, but funnily enough, it seemed too stalky to do that. 

I don't feel like I did anything wrong by stalking him, I actually think that if you are going on a date with a guy you barely know then the safest thing to do is a bit of stalking- but I would advise against telling your date (or Dick), that you have done so. 

I'm one password away from setting up my LinkedIn profile and checking up on Dick anonymously, is that going too far? I don't think so, but nobody tell him. 

Shhhhhhh.... 

It's coming...

It's 8.15pm and the final rays of the sun are setting for the night. It's coming-autumn is coming, and the best thing about it...I can put Scarlett to bed at 7pm again! 

Don't get me wrong, I'm not glad that our abysmal summer is nearly over, but it does mean that I won't have the battle with Scarlett at bedtime which I have every night throughout the lighter months. 

Scarlett: 'I'm not going to bed because it's too bright.' 

Me: 'It's nearly 10pm Scarlett, it's bedtime.' 

Scarlett: 'Well, it's too bright so....no.' 

I did think about sticking some black bin liners over the bedroom windows but after careful consideration, I felt that it wasn't worth looking like we lived in a drug den- so the bedtime battle has become a fun (ha), nightly routine. 

She doesn't reserve her bedtime excuses for me though, she reiterates them to her Daddy too. Strangely, she doesn't really do it at my parents, but a stern look from my Dad is enough to make any child or adult retreat and wave a white flag. 

You can tell your which of your friends don't have children. The child free ones delight at long summer evenings, with beer and BBQ's on the beach, while us with kids beg the sun to go down just a little faster. 

There is nothing like a cosy October night in, kid(s) asleep shortly after 7pm and a hot chocolate (or wine), in hand. 

Come on Autumn- I'm ready and waiting for you.