How do I get a baby?

Children come out with the most random things at the most random times. Today Scarlett decided to ask me how she can get a baby when we were sitting at the kitchen table eating dinner.

Aside from being annoyed because I had to put down my knife and fork while I thought of a suitable explanation for the baby thing (I hate being interrupted while I am eating), it also made me realise how one day I was going to have to explain to her what the real deal is with sex.

For now though I settled on saying that babies come from special cuddles between a boy and a girl. Satisfied with that answer she then asked sensibly: ‘What if I don’t want to have a baby?’

I said to her - with more force than intended: ‘You both make sure that you protect yourselves!’

Then I added that there was a lot more to life than having babies and she should live her dreams first before she worried about anything like that. For effect I added there is a lot of puke and poo involved with babies and then I offered her a biscuit. She skipped off biscuit in gob and I grabbed my laptop to Google what I should tell my six-year-old about sex.

I will make sure she is well informed on the matter in time but at this age it all feels a bit too soon. I intend to put her off ever having sex with what I tell her and show her. If I was the Prime Minister I would make sure that an episode of one born every minute would be shown in schools everyday for girls from age 12. I bet teenage pregnancies would drop significantly.

Back to Google and there are 163,000,000 hits for ‘What to tell a six year old about sex’. I would say I was open mouthed at that figure but that could be misconstrued, so I will just say I was shocked.

Babycentre.com advice is for parents to be calm and relaxed when talking about sex. Ok, fine all good on that front. Then further down the page it says: ‘Many adults feel awkward talking about sex with their child because they don't have much practice doing it and because they're afraid of telling too much once a discussion gets going.’

That is my biggest fear, telling her too much so that the next day she walks into school like some mini sex guru. I can just imagine being dragged to the headmistress and her demanding to know why Scarlett can describe the ins and outs of the male and female body.

I am still mortified about the time when I had to go and speak to her nursery because she was getting the other children to pull down the trousers and pants in the playhouse. And people wonder why I worry about her being a teenage mother.

Thankfully she is now asking about where doughnuts come from and there have been no more questions about babies, but I still have 162,999,999 sites to go through to make sure I don’t psychologically damage my child when it comes to sex.

Faking it

This morning my daughter caught the flu- child flu.

If you are unaware of what child flu is, I will give you a description...
Child flu is where a child wakes up on a school morning perfectly fine, then on the car journey to school starts complaining of a ‘hurty’ tummy. The child then starts to cry and complains that it ‘hurts soooooooooo bad!’
As soon as the child is home they go to bed for ten minutes before the sound of their VTech toy (no she does not have an iPad. I am a mug, but not that much of one) starts to play. Then said child runs around laughing without a care in the world.

If this has been the case for you today, you need to join the Mum Mug Club with me.

I had an inkling she was faking her illness, but the last time I thought that my daughter proceeded to throw up and poo on me at the same time to prove her point. So, this morning I was cautious and took her home.

Now I feel like a total moron. Every time I ask her if she feels ok, she clutches her tummy and winces. The Oscar for the Best Female Actress goes to Scarlett Venderpump. (Vanderpump is not her actual second name but I am protecting her name as this is the web. Vanderpump is a fantastic second name though. I borrowed it off Lisa Vanderpump from The Real Housewives of Beverley Hills programme. ITVBe is the best channel ever invented all those housewives and so little time, though I seem to find enough to watch The Real Housewives of Cheshire, Atlanta, Melbourne, Orange County and Little People LA and Atlanta.)

I am one of the most unsympathetic people with sick people. If you are ill, call me to let me know and don’t come near me until a month has passed. Sorry but you are yuck and I don’t need that.

Situations like this just make me even more hardened, now Scarlett will only have herself to blame when the next time she is (Inset HUGE air quotation marks here) ‘Sick’. I will not listen and she will go to school every day. Apart from weekends, though I think the Education Minister needs to look at that, I may have to send an email after this.

There are some obvious exceptions to the rule of going to school when ‘ill’. If she is really ill and proves it (with vomit, broken bones, blood or poo), then I will not make her go, but all in all, the dramatics and sad face will not wash with me anymore.

I could really bang on about this and REALLY rant, but Scarlett is currently chasing the dog around the house so I have to rescue him before he has a heart attack and he has to go to the ruddy vet.

Children and pets, who would have them? Oh yea, us in the Mum Mug Club.

Once upon a time...

There were three little girls.

They all had flowing golden hair and smiled like butter wouldn't melt.

Through all the day they played, talked, and screamed with joy from 6AM until 10PM (sometimes until 11PM if they were feeling particularly mischievous).

No matter what their parent/guardian did (I say guardian as I am only mother to one of them and I would hate it if someone referred to themselves as my child's mother when they did not give birth to the bowling ball headed child), the children would not tire. Apart from the youngest who would typically fall asleep on the sofa at 5pm just as the nightly dinner of pizza/pesto pasta/other cheap carbohydrate from the kitchen store was being served.

At 7pm all of the little girls brushed their teeth, still screaming, still talking and still giggling about various things and poo.

Their parent/guardian read them a story with gusto to keep them laughing as a last ditch attempt to help them fall asleep.

Little did they know the little girls were already plotting behind their backs like little annoying mice.

As soon as the 'I love you's' were said and the light from the bulb had faded, the little golden girls were up and out of their beds.

The girls parent/guardian crept up the stairs to see which little mite was leading the pack, but the scurry of little feet and laughter told them it was all of them.

One by one the little girls were separated and put into different rooms, the guardian felt like a wicked guardian but 7.05 was wine time, so although she was torn, she knew it was for the best.

For 2 nights the little girls have been separated at bedtime and the house is as happy as can be.

And they all lived happily ever after.

The importance of toilet paper

Good quality toilet paper.

Living with six kids and three adults, our house can become at times chaotic- to say the least.

From cries of 'Get off me!' 'Leave me alone!' to the girls screaming from the moment they wake up to the minute they are separated at bedtime, there is one cry which is screamed more often than any other...

'There is no toilet paper!'

Luckily we have three toilets, so sometimes I am able to scrabble together a few sheets and hand them over to the wanting person, but weirdly we seem to run completely out of toilet paper a heck of a lot.

Thinking he was being helpful (bless him for trying), my partner decided to get a haul of 36 toilet rolls to get us through the next two weeks. I don't know if his intention was to help save the planet by getting recycled toilet rolls, or if he simply ordered the most he could at one time- but we have all suffered from his mistake.

Recycled- from what?! Branches and twigs?!

I was lucky to not be scarred from childbirth, but the money he saved on this paper will be needed to pay for the scarring I have acquired over the past few days.

Pain in the ass does not cover it.

Sorry to be so crass but I feel like this is a public health warning.

Don't tell my partner but I squirreled a few extra sheets of toilet roll from Mc Donald's earlier so I could have some light relief. Actually, don't tell Mc Donald's either. I don't know how they would feel about me taking their toilet roll- though I could call it tax because they put the price up on Happy Meals. £1.99 was a bargain, over £2.19 is not.

Anyway, You have been warned. About the toilet roll, and the (un) Happy Meals.

Should I feelt guilty for abandoning the kids?

Because I don't.

I have been absent for a while because I was on holiday at an all inclusive resort in Fuerteventura, childless.

Before I went, many people asked if me and my partner were bringing our four children. I looked at them gaily, and with a smile which reached my eyes (and went well beyond), said: 'No.'

'But don't you feel guilty leaving them behind?' They asked.

No.

And I will tell you what- it was blooming blissful.

Though I did have thoughts on the plane of commandeering a child for a few hours from the pool, but weirdly when we got to the complex, those thoughts scurried away and hid under the rock where they first came from.

A surrogate puppy in the apartment next to ours lessened the pain of not being with our children and puppy, and we were allowed to behave like adults (ok maybe like children).

We remembered what it was like to leave the apartment whenever we wanted without being delayed by little legs searching for toys called rainbow unicorn bear. We sat on the beach and actually relaxed, there was no constant panic of a child drowning at sea. We caught crabs (the type you don't need medication for), ate whatever WE wanted and didn't have to worry about getting a babysitter for the evenings.

I know not everyone is as fortunate as we are, but abandoning the kids for a week truly did wonders for my soul, however I did get my comeuppance.

My nose is now so red, Rudolph is out of the running for leading the sleigh this year and the temperature was near freezing when we landed at Gatwick. I almost had to go to the hospital on the way home to be treated for hypothermia, as I was wearing a short skirt and vest top because I wanted to show off my tan/sunburn.

Back to reality now, Scarlett is currently arguing with me because I want the last biscuit. She said she missed me, but not that much.

she is so childish.

No more babies!

Why is it that when we are in new relationships the baby chemicals in our bodies try to tell us it would be a brilliant idea to have a baby?

Not just in women as I have found out the men can catch a dose of the baby making chemicals too, and I do not just mean the taking part in making one bit.

After many discussions some joking (from me) others I am not so sure about (from him), me and my boyfriend have agreed four children is enough for us.

Many of our friends have rolled their eyes and said ‘No, in a couple of years you will have another one.’ Although there is a flutter of a yes somewhere in my body, my brain is sensibly taking over and saying no.

I am done with the getting up in the night, with the potty training and crying. I have no desire to go back to the constant worry of having to watch a baby and pretend that i have a clue what I am doing- or so I thought until yesterday...

We have expanded our family, a baby peeing and keeping me up at night has entered our home in the form of a puppy.

Yesterday my boyfriend said he was going out, he told me he was going to get a puppy but I didn’t actually really believe him until a bundle of fur wrapped in a blanket was cradled in his arms after a seven hour round journey.

Hades (yes named after the ancient Greek God of the underworld, we are not ones for standard names obviously), became my new baby the second I set eyes on him.

He is the most beautiful Siberian Husky who has ever existed and my mothering instincts of looking after a baby have come flooding back, much to his and my families bemusement.

When the kids came and stroked him when he was on my lap, I was instantly protective when the little creatures were putting their hands all over my precious newborn. Me and my boyfriend agreed Hades should sleep downstairs- ha yea right!

Obviously the first few hours were going to be hard for him, so the second we heard him whimpering, we ran downstairs and brought him into our bed. We were making sure the kids got a good night sleep and did not get disturbed by him- that is what we told ourselves.

We played with him for about 10 minutes when he wriggled up next to me, aww we are bonding I thought-then the smell came. If you have ever smelt a dog fart you will know the stench is enough to make you sick, well, try having a dog poo literally 2 inches away from your face.

Off came the dog, bed sheets and duvet, I laughed, forgave the little monkey and crawled back into bed. We kept the en-suite light on in our bedroom so he would not be in the dark, however I can’t sleep with any sort of light near me, I moan when it creeps in through the crack in the door between the frame, so I turned it off- bad mother.

Hades decided he wanted my side of the bed, so I shifted down it until I was in the foetal position and told myself I was comfortable. Then the whimpering started, he got up had a wee and the settled back down again by my feet.

I won’t bore you but basically it was a very broken night of sleep with a lot of getting up and crying, but as a somewhat experienced mother (ha), I knew it wouldn’t last.

At ten to six I got up as he was hungry, (it was actually ten to seven but the clocks went back so I lost an hour and feel ten to six better describes the lack of sleep I had.

Now, our puppy is not just any puppy- there is no cheap dog food from a tin in our house. His diet is freshly cooked chicken and rice- yes I was cooking chicken and boiling rice at TEN TO SIX for a dog. They may be a man’s best friend, but he was not really mine at that moment in time. Luckily he has the cutest face, so my grumpiness did not last for long.

An hour later with Hades asleep in his bed in the living room with me, the pitter patter of tiny feet came down the stairs. Three very excited little girls came in squealing at him, I literally had to bat them away from him.

When a more normal time of day arrived and I felt more alive (12pm), I was ready to face the day and mummy my puppy.

I had the overwhelming urge every time one of the kids went near him to push them away from him, the pressures of being a mother to a baby hit me. If someone else held him, I had to stop myself from grabbing him off them. Every time he did a wee on the newspaper laid out for him, a sense of pride took over me. When he slept, I gazed at him and when he whimpered a cradled him like a baby and sang him a lullaby.

Writing this has been hard as I have had to tear myself away from him and I am dreading going back to work.

It seems the baby chemicals in my body have taken over, tomorrow I writing a blog called ’10 things to never say to the mother of a new puppy.’ Am I weird, or does this happen to every new puppy mother?

A Little Mix up

Little Mix have got themselves into a bit of bother recently while on tour due to their outfits on stage.

Parents and concert goers have blasted the sexy outfits raging about them all over the internet.

While I agree the outfits leave little to the imagination, what do fans and parents want to see Little Mix dressed up in, T-shirt and jeans?

Perrie defended their choice of clothing and said: ‘We put on such a big show and there’s a lot of dancing and it gets really hot out there.

‘I like to feel free and have something I can move around in.’

I can understand both sides of the argument, the critical parent in me is screaming at them to put some more clothes on, and the other more understanding part of me agrees with Perrie’s explanation.

As parents we have to explain a lot of things to our children and that is exactly what needs to happen in this situation.

We need our children to understand they are performers, they do not go around in their everyday lives dressed in these costumes.

While Little Mix have a lot of young impressionable female fans, as long as they understand that the clothes they are wearing are so they can jump around on stage and show off their dance moves and not what they would wear wandering down the street then where is the harm in what they wear?

We are all too quick to slam each other but when was the last time you saw a young girl group parading around the stage all night in tracksuits?

Flipping the coin, maybe the outfits don’t need so many bits cut out of them and they could show a tad less flesh, but I don’t feel the need to send my daughter to a convent because she has seen a bit of leg.

If she asks me why they are wearing clothes like that, I will just explain to her that is what they wear on stage while they are singing and dancing so they can move around and not get too hot. Then I imagine she will go back to playing with her Barbie’s without giving it a second thought.

As usual, it is just something else that has been blown out of proportion.

What do you think?

(Original article in Star magazine, I took a photo on my phone of the above as I have not actually been to the concert myself, so did the next best thing!)

Jamie's boobie bashing campaign

This morning while laying in bed listening to the squeak of the newly erected trampoline in the garden with my daughter jumping up and down on it, I came across an article about Adele’s four-letter tirade at Jamie Oliver over his intention to launch a campaign on breastfeeding:

http://www.mirror.co.uk/3am/celebrity-news/adeles-four-letter-tirade-jamie-7631999

If you don’t want to read the article, or think it may anger you too much, his wife is now expecting their fifth child so he has turned his attention to boobs.

He said: ‘We have the worst breastfeeding in the world. It feeds into all sorts of things like stunting, obesity, ill health.’

Speaking on a radio show he added: “If you breastfeed for more than six months, women are 50 per cent less likely to get breast cancer. When do you ever hear that? Never.”

"It’s easy, it’s more convenient, it’s more nutritious, it’s better, it’s free.”

Initially after reading the article I was outraged and determined to find out more so I researched his ‘campaign’ further and have found out he has now backtracked and said he is not starting one, he simply wanted to ‘support women who do want to breastfeed and make it easier for them to do so.’

Sorry but you have a P where you would need a V to make comments and support WOMEN who breastfeed.

Unfortunately Jamie is not alone in misunderstanding breastfeeding and he is not the only one in the world making ill-judged comments. So this is for all of those who are breastfeeding bashers, an education for small minded people who should really know when to keep their mouths shut.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if all new mothers could whip out their breasts in Costa, latch their babies on while laughing with their other yummy mummy friends about how ‘easy’ everything is in between sips of an ultra skinny mocha chocha latte? Ah, the ultimate mummy dream.

Pregnant women and new mothers are not stupid, we all know how important breastfeeding is, our bodies make the milk, we don’t look down at our leaky nipples and say oh, what is with all of this white stuff?!

Jamie’s experience with breastfeeding is I imagine (correct me if I am wrong Jamie), through watching his wife feed their 4 children, now she is pregnant with her fifth he had decided to add this two pence about how he thinks women should raise their children.

I have taken his initial aim to launch a campaign about breastfeeding as a personal insult, and I imagine so have many other mothers. He may have now back-tracked but he said what he intended to do and has only backed down because of the backlash he has received.

Us mothers have all been through our own personal breastfeeding journey, my baby was in special care 7 hours after she was born. I tried to breastfeed and she would not take to it. She spent the night in SCBU, my eyeballs felt like they were going to fall out of my head as I had been in labour for days but still I tried to feed her myself at 1am, and 2am.

I was told to go to sleep and I would be woken in a couple of hours to try again. At 6am a nurse came in with my baby, they had decided not to wake me as she needed milk and was not taking it off me so they had to bottle feed her.

Any mother who hears that know that a baby is highly unlikely to take to breastfeeding after being given a bottle but I tried one last time to no avail, so I bottle fed my baby.

My daughter is not obese, she is not stunted in growth and she does not have any health issues. I was not breastfed, my daughter’s father was not breastfed and by some miracle we have grown up to be fully functioning adults. The only health issue I have is my hangovers are getting harder to deal with as I get older, but I guess that is just my own personal problem.

People who make comments about breastfeeding, and slam mothers who don’t breastfeed need to speak to not one, not 100, but millions of women to hear their stories about breastfeeding.

Thankfully I did not have post-natal depression; the most depressing thing I went through was having to throw away my maternity jeans because they ripped when my daughter was six months old.

Not breastfeeding, either through choice or for any other reason does not make anyone less of a mother. I don’t blame myself every time my daughter gets a cold and wonder if I had breastfed her then maybe she wouldn’t have caught it.

Similarly I don’t blame my mother for me putting my top on backwards twice this morning, I’m not slower because I wasn’t breastfed, unfortunately I have to accept that was just my own stupidity.

So enough of the boobie bashing, my boobs are MINE, they are none of Jamie’s business and your boobs are none of my business, let’s support breasts with good bras, not by starting ‘campaigns’.

Though I am thinking about starting a campaign on making every expectant father wear a pregnancy belly. I wonder who would have the balls support that?

I hate spellings!

Diary of a six-year-old.

Spell this I-H-A-T-E-S-P-E-L-L-I-N-G-S!

So Mother is taking an interest in my homework after saying last year she didn’t agree with it. Apparently now I am getting older and because of my lack of interest in anything to do with school, She needs to ‘push’ me more.

I have been having spelling tests since the beginning of this school year and up until a couple of months ago, She was not even aware of that fact. However since She came back from abandoning me in London for work, She seems to have gained an unnatural interest in what I can and can’t spell.

I tried to make it look like I was interested in stuff to get her off my back. A few times when we went out, I pointed to signs and asked what they said and gave a weak attempt at spelling the words out.

I thought I had cracked it when she didn’t tell me to practice my spellings when we got home but I think it was because she forgot as I keep waking her up at night because I want cuddles.

Then came along goodie two shoes, I don’t mean that with menace, I love my new step-sisters but one of them loves spelling a bit too much for my liking and she is making me look bad.

My older step-sister (MOS for short and code as all cool writers have codes for people whose names they cannot mention), is smart-I’ll give her that and she is only a couple of months older than me. But when Mother is trying to get me to do my spellings MOS wants to join in.

I wouldn’t have a problem with it if she was not good at them, but not only does she spell all of the words Mother says aloud, she also makes up sentences with them so I look doubly bad.

A couple of weeks ago Mother made me practice my spellings twice a day everyday with MOS, when I had my test at school a few days later I got 4 out of 5 spellings right when the previous week I had only got 1 out of 5 because I had not practiced.

I was overjoyed and so was Mother so she was a bit lax with my spellings the following week and again I only got 1 out of 5. So now this week She is on turbo mode, and so am I.

When I came home from school I asked for sweets (standard after a hard Monday), and she told me I couldn’t have any until after I had done my spellings. I couldn’t believe my ears and I decided if she was going to force me to do something, she would see that I could play a game with her too.

I wrote the words so badly, they were illegible- Ha I thought that would show her. I was not expecting her to bark at me and tell me to write them properly.

Reluctantly I did them again, huffed my way through and then cried silently when I got to the end. I knew if that didn’t tug at her heart strings then nothing would.

She told me to stop crying and to pick a sweet for finishing them, but added I would have to do them again before bed so I can show my teacher I have been trying.

I think she wants to show the teacher to prove that my spellings are not down to her lazy parenting but rather due to my unwillingness to practice.

I really must find a way to get out of this horribleness, if any other six-year-olds out there have any advice, I could really use it right now...

#Agonyaunt

(Oh, for those of you wondering, I used spell-check a lot when writing this and the thesaurus is a magical tool!)

Centre of attention

On Monday I took myself off to the Hackney Picturehouse to watch people talk about their experiences of being the centre of attention hosted by Spark London.

When I walked into the unfamiliar building and was told to get in a life and go right up to the top floor-the attic- I was a bit dubious.

I went to the toilet first as I am a woman and it is important to check out the facilities when somewhere new. Be it a theatre, a restaurant or a friend’s house. A toilet says a lot about a place/person, but if anyone wants to come to mine I will need a phone call about an hour before, I don’t want anyone thinking I live in a pigsty when it is obviously the kids.

Back to the Attic -I feared the centre of attention was going to be on me the following day by way of a newspaper front page. The light in the toilet went out leaving me in the dark mid flow, and the creepy music playing didn’t help my imagination go full throttle and convince me there was someone lurking in the next cubical with a Scream mask on. It was a good job I was already in the toilet else I would have wet myself.

Thankfully I walked out of the loo with my jugular still intact and I went to watch people speaking about being centre of attention. At the start of the evening everyone was a bit reluctant to take part- it was an open mike night but I think we all thought we were there to be entertained by other people.

I sure as hell wasn’t going to get up there, maybe one day I will have the guts. Next week the talk is ‘nature’. Hmmm, I could think up a few naturist experiences I have had I’m sure, but speaking in front of an audience and feeling naked is a completely different kettle of fish.

The centre of attention stories were funny, random and interesting. Though I am gutless and didn’t get up on the night, I have been thinking about when I have been the centre of attention.

After a hell of a lot of thinking I found recently in the past few years I haven’t really been the centre of attention, not in a bad way just I have been going along in life without it really happening.

However, when I was younger around 8/9/10/11... ok up until my late teens, I used to always want to be the centre of attention -with boys.

There was a boy in my brother’s year that I used to live a couple of houses away from. Me, my brother and his brothers all used to play together. I liked him – a lot. So I tried to get his attention – a lot.

In school I used to get friends to go and get him to him because I wanted to speak with him, or because I was upset, or because, just because. Needless to say, he did not always come running. We used to play in my back garden (not a euphemism) I used to not do as he told me purposely to make him pay more attention to me, nothing drastic just silly little things.

I also used to run away from weddings a lot (something I did in later life too). My ‘husband’ would be waiting for me at one end of the playground and then there was me at the other. When the crucial moment came, I would send my friends to tell him I didn’t want to marry him while I happily ate my ketchup and butter sandwich.

Another boy attention moment I remembered while writing this was having three rings from 3 different boys when I was about seven. I lost two of them in straw bales in the school field, the third didn’t last much longer before being lost in the abyss of the bale.

Sadly as I have got older the treat them mean keep them keen has not always worked, especially after a bottle of wine. (Why do women get soooo mean on wine? I would blame the sugar but we don’t get angry on chocolate. Oh no, bloody love that sugary stuff.)

The below are some other times I have been the centre of attention....

When I had a panic attack in PE class (I know I have told you a hundred times).

When some boy threw a stick against a tree and a bit flew into my face and got stuck there.

When I thought I was a badass and tried to climb on a beach shelter and broke my wrist.

When I gate crashed a house party and had to be taken to hospital after drinking too much. (Should apologise to my brother and his frien- who had the party- for that again. Sorry!)

When I fell over and smashed a microwave with my head (The glass bit- I was fine thankfully and so was my glass of wine.)

In France when I said I didn’t want tequila because I would be sick but had a shot anyway then threw up all over the bar, and was then told to clean it up. So did and then fell over in the toilet, then went back to my cabin had a shower and pole danced for the rest of the night. – The party don’t stop when I throw up.

When I was giving birth, there were a lot of nurses prodding my centre of attention.

Well, best get off and make some memories to add to the bullet points! Maybe minus the wine though.

Dear Milk Tray Man

Dear Milk Tray Man,

I would like to thank you from the bottom of my chocolate covered heart for bringing the best box of Milk Tray out into the world.

Yesterday I was shopping in Superdrug picking up a few essentials, facemasks, vitamins, tampons, etc, when I saw some boxes of Milk Tray.

I am on a diet, so I tried to turn away from them but silly me- I’m a woman so I always NEED chocolate.

I looked at the back of the box to see what different chocolates there were, I was so excited when I saw new flavours including a truffle, salted caramel charm and the best one- apple crunch.

Looking at the box brought my attention to the fact that there are nowhere near enough apple flavoured chocolate delights, and I was hoping that you were going to sort that problem out.

I peeled open the box carefully to be greeted by a minuscule square chocolate in the middle of the box. As it was supposed to be the centre piece I was shocked at just how small it was.

I am not one to always say ‘bigger is better’ but this is a case where I feel it is appropriate to say it.

Unfortunately I had a clay face mask on at the time of eating said chocolates, so I couldn’t even open up my mouth wide enough to convey how astounded I was at the size. Not that anyone could have seen me anyway because I was in my bunk bed with curtains around it in a hostel in London, but that is not the point.

I hope this does not make you feel inadequate, but I thought I should bring it to your attention.

However, I will add the truffle was an absolute delight and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Good day to you, keep doing whatever it is that you do Mr Milk Tray.

Kind regards,
Miss Frew.

(Evidence)

How to get rid of blackheads

(Sorry about the scary picture.)

Since living in London, I have broken out with teeny tiny blackheads all over my face. They are devils, I have to physically restrain myself from digging the buggers out because I know if I do it will only create a bigger problem and I will be left with a face that will look like I have been attacked by a bear. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and I have been trying to fight the blackheads with my own beauty regime. In a hostel, walking around with a facemask and a bowl of boiling water is not something that happens every day. I am the weird one here, I believe that is safe to say. Well, beauty comes before funny looks so I have created a 5 step plan to get rid of blackheads and keep my fellow hostel buddies amused.

Step 1 – Steam

This one takes some waitressing skills, as the walk from the kitchen to the toilet is quite far. Nonetheless this step is the most basic but the best way to rid my face of blackheads. I simply make sure I have a towel, boil the kettle, get a bowl and fill it with boiling water. Then carefully walk down the corridor with it and into the toilet, lock the door and sit on the toilet with the towel over my head and my face hovering above the bowl.
The steam from the water opens pores to make the buggers know they are not welcome on my face. I have sat for up to 10 minutes in the toilet steaming, but if someone is desperate for the loo I sacrifice about a minute.

Step 2 - Scrub

Step two is my favourite as scrubbing away the dirt and grime from the underground after a long day is always satisfying. This Deep Clean blackhead exfoliator with papaya and licorice for less than a fiver, is a blackhead buster must-have. The licorice and willow bark help fight bacteria and the papaya makes skin look healthy and radiant. This polishes up my skin a treat.


http://www.goodthingsbeauty.com/skincare.php £4.99


Step 3 – Mask

This chocolate orange self heating mask is an absolute wonder, it is infused with dark chocolate and orange oil and is almost good enough to eat (I found out you should not eat this mask, it does not taste as good as it sounds). It warms up as soon as it is put in contact with skin, which is a delicious curious feeling, I received equally curious looks when after putting it on behind the comfort of my curtained bunk bed I had to emerge with clay all over my face, hair and neck. I didn’t have a mirror in my cubby hole. I didn’t care and I will be following my regime every week so I will get used the the funny looks aimed my way.

This chocolate orange mask is 99p from Superdrug, get one before I buy them all!

Step 4 - Cleanse

Seaweed is one of the ‘superfoods’ this year, but I can’t bear the thought of putting it in my mouth, so I have compromised and have put it on my face and around my mouth instead. The Body Shop has a seaweed range and I really love this seaweed purifying facial cleanser. It makes my skin feel cleansed deep down and gets rid of every single bit of dirt and grime. I cleanse again after using a face mask because it just makes my face feel super clean, and helps with my battle to keep the blackheads at bay.

Thebodyshop.co.uk £9.50

Step 5 – Moisturise

I LOVE coconut oil, it really is the best thing that has ever been invented. It has so many uses which I don’t even have the time to begin to go into but believe me, it can be used for pretty much anything. For the purpose of this blog, I will tell you the main place I use it is on my face. I smother myself in it day and night so of course for my final step in getting rid of blackheads, the ultra moisturising coconut oil is always going to be my favourite thing to use.

It starts off as a solid, then after some gentle warming in between the palm it turns into a silky smooth liquid. It has made such a difference to my skin since I started using it, I barely get spots anymore and dry patches are a thing of the past.
Because I am a bargain hunter (ok a cheapskate), I usually just get whatever is on offer in town. The best thing about it is, supermarkets sell it because it can also be used for cooking. Next time you are doing your weekly shop, pop it in your trolley and try it. Let your skin absorb it, which it does relatively quickly as with any standard moisturiser, and say hello to beautiful skin.

Optional step...

Eat a whole box of Milk Tray. Because I LOVE Milk Tray and it was £2.00 in Superdrug and had new flavours such as ‘apple crunch’ and ‘salted caramel charm’. If you have some self restraint you can avoid eating them all, if like me you don’t, eat them all and enjoy every single one. There is also a chocolate orange flavour which matches with the mask perfectly so I don’t eat my face.

Blackheads busted.

Rabbit hole: Every parents nightmare

To save myself from the drama of getting lost this evening I decided to go to the Hampstead theatre, a five minute walk from my hostel to watch a play called 'Rabbit Hole'.

I bagged myself a spot in the front row (I am getting pretty good at that now), and took in my surroundings.

The set was amazing and I nearly asked one of the staff if I could have the fitted kitchen when the play was over. (I didn't but if the set director is reading this, please email me and I will send my home address for you to send it to.) There were hidden rooms which appeared out of the darkness throughout the evening which brought a new dimension to the play that I haven't seen in theatre before.

When the characters first came onto the stage I recognised Becca the lead actress and realised she played the mother in 'Outnumbered' (Claire Skinner). She was standing literally about 2 feet away from me and I could see every blink of her eyes and breath she took. Something shifted in me, I had never felt such an emotional connection with a character straight away.

All of the actors and actresses conveyed every emotion perfectly, being so close to them meant I could literally look into their eyes and if they had faltered I would have seen it straight away. They were all so beautifully on point, I was close to tears more times than I care to admit.

If I had known what the play was about, I don't think I would have come, it would have been too much. However, I am so glad I walked in tonight not expecting anything because it made me completely connect with everything, it was very over-powering.

The acting was impeccable and the hard hitting story line is the nightmare for every parent, I am not going to give too much away but I will let you know the characters took us on a journey with them through their grief.

The acting from all on stage was so immense that I truly felt every word they said. It was absolutely incredible.

I am hoping I can handle watching it again as it is one of the most hard-hitting and beautiful productions I have ever seen.

Now I have to go to bed as I am emotionally drained, but in a good way.

Local business interview- Beth Emery from WordChatter

Are you a sniffer? 

I don't know about you, but I simply cannot walk past a candle stall at an event and not stop and have a sniff. 

Recently, I have discovered the absolutely thrilling and tantalising candles of WordChatter. 

I recently met Beth Emery while she was on Worthing Seafront selling her candles on the August Bank holiday. After sticking my nose into practically all of her candles, I had to stick my nose into her business...

Tell me when and why you started your business WordChatter? 

I started WordChatter in October 2014 so we're not quite a year old yet. I broke my foot in April 2014 and being a self employed photographer had to put everything on the back burner (long story but my foot didn't heal on it's own and now I have titanium holding it together! I only started to walk on it again in October 2014). WordChatter started out life as a design business that made word cloud pictures of special events or people, or animals, you know the kind of thing I'm talking about? Well it all developed from there and we started making soy candles because we love them. Now our business is mainly soy candles as it's taken off really well. 

What were your first steps when setting up WordChatter? 

First steps is a funny question as when I first started WordChatter I couldn't put weight through my actual foot! ... Anyway I first started like I said in the previous question by designing Word Clouds (which we still do - bespoke to order). But now the soy candles are the main part of the business. 

What are the benefits of using soy wax rather than any other wax?

There are plenty of benefits to using soy wax. We only use 100% soy wax, no blends or paraffin. Paraffin wax is made from crude oil and is not a sustainable product. Soy wax is made from the oil of soy beans which is a completely renewable source. The beans themselves are hulled and processed, the oil is hydrogenated and this makes the wax solid and room temperature. Soy wax candles also last around twice as long as paraffin equivalents. Believe me I've tried and tested! Soy wax also burns cleaner than paraffin. 

Where do you get your inspiration for new candle scents? 

I listen to my customers, I introduced my Cafe Creme (coffee, vanilla and caramel - with actual coffee beans in the candles) fragrance after a customer told me she had been unable to get a decent coffee candle in the UK. The addition of the coffee beans means the coffee scent gets stronger the longer you burn the candle as the beans heat up in the wax and release their own fragrance. 

(Photo- Candy Floss and Bow Ties photography.) 

What is you favourite scent? Oooo now this is a difficult one for me.. I do have my favourites... But I love all of the candles I make. Currently I have an addiction to my Candy Canes candles as it actually smells like a stick of rock.... delicious! 

What is your most popular scent? 

By far it's Lemongrass and Ginger.. I can't seem to make enough of it. It's a really fresh scent with the lemongrass and has a huge zing from the ginger. Nothing is even close to that one in terms of sales. 

Have you tried a scent and decided against it? (If yes, why?) I've discontinued one scent as I wasn't happy with it, I will only keep making something if it sells (not just because I like it - there's only so much room in my house for candles!). I will introduce new ones and see how they fair... but to be honest there is only so much room on a table when you are out selling ... I currently (including Christmas) have 30 fragrances. It's a challenge to get them all out! 

What is the most unusual scent you make? Maybe Lemon Drizzle Cake, it actually smells like cake and a few people have said it smells good enough to eat! I have one candle called Nutty Delight (which I absolutely love - it's a very sweet scent of walnut, pecan, vanilla and sugar) I call it my marmite candle as people either love it or hate it... there never ever seems to be an in-between. 

Aside from your candles, what are the other most popular gifts that you sell? Coasters and key-rings always sell well. Mug sets at Christmas time too (which can be personalised). Wedding prints sell well, word clouds of the details of the wedding. 

What has been your most rewarding moment? Returning customers, people who actually seek to find me at a fair and say how lovely the candles are and buy more. It's what it's all about. I love candles, I love making candles and I love that my customers love my candles! 

Who or what inspires you? I would love to thank Alan Sugar (strange I know) .. but the whole candle making idea came from an episode of The Apprentice last summer. I thought "I can do that" and I have been fully supported by Helen my partner throughout the whole experience.

  

What is the best part about running WordChatter? Meeting lots of people who are fanatical about candles! I've met quite a few (including you Becky!) who just love candles. I love getting out to as many fairs and events as possible and chatting with people about what they like and don't. People are so different and fascinating. 

What are your future plans for WordChatter? I am going to see where it takes me... I would love to get into a few small independent shops to begin with and develop from there. 

What events have you got coming up that we can catch you at? I have loads booked in the diary between now and Christmas. This weekend I will be at Findon Sheep Fair on Saturday 12th and Sunday sees me back at the Pavilion in Worthing from 10am - 4pm. I always post up on my facebook page during the week where I will be that weekend so you can always keep a track of me by jumping across to my page www.facebook.com/wordchatter and you can also sign up for my newsletter which will keep you up to date with what is going on.

What are you waiting for? Stop reading, log onto www.wordchatter.co.uk and find your own favourite WordChatter candle or gift. 

Or if you fancy having a get together with your friends contact Beth on the WordChatter Facebook page or website and arrange a date to have a candle party at home! 

(Photo- Candy Floss and Bow Ties photography.) 

5 things to tell your daughter

I have been having some worries recently about Scarlett being a teenage mum, in fact that is a lie- I have always thought she is going to become one. Sometimes we just have this feeling in the pit of our stomach and that is what is in the pit of mine.

She may be six now but I am going to blink and she will be 13 and interested in BOYS! I say that, but she has always been interested in boys, they have caught her eye ever since she was a baby.

Obviously it is because of her stunning looks that I gave her, blonde hair, blue eyes, sweet innocent looking face...

I am short, with black/brown/red/grey hair and brown eyes...

#'@#"££4 - PICTURE UNAVALIABLE - #**&*( - COMPUTER SAID NO _ @~'#'##'23%

Going on holiday with a child who looks nothing like you, and who has a different surname is an immigration nightmare -but we do have the same nose! (Don’t worry I have started saving up for her rhinoplasty already.)

So, due to me not wanting to be a grandmother by the time I am 40, I have come up with some things I am going to tell her when she becomes a teenager.

I will wake her up on the day she turns 13 with a smile and this list......Happy Birthday Baby!

I thought I would share them with you just in case you would like to share my pearls of wisdom...

You know nothing

Yes, I know we have had this argument ever since you were about two and you thought that you ruled the world like some kind of mini Mariah Carey, but I would like to inform you...YOU KNOW NOTHING. I love you but knowing who is number one in the charts (If it is called a chart now, I wrote this in 2016 so I am sure a lot will have changed, everything apart from YOU KNOW NOTHING.) You have so much to learn about life, there is so much to see and do. Travel, follow your dreams, discover who you are, live, laugh, love. YOU KNOW NOTHING, apart from that I love you unconditionally and I will keep you in pocket money until you are 30 if you don’t get pregnant when you are a teenager.

I mean proper pocket money, not the £1 that the tooth fairy gave you when your first tooth fell out when you were six. I can still see the disappointment on your face at the lack of money she had left. I told her off after that and she vowed to only leave paper money after that.
You did have a good argument when you said monopoly money was not real money but I think she got confused.

Meet Ann Summers, your best friend

I hope you have grown up feeling able to talk to me about anything, I have probably grossed you out so much about the topic of sex that you don’t want to go near a boy but just in case, I would like to introduce you to Ann Summers. While you are a bit young yet, I just want you to bare her in mind for when the time comes and a boy gives you a wink and a nudge. It will never be like he says it is. I don’t know what you will be taught in school, probably not a lot apart from what a condom looks like but it really will not be worth it. Do something better with your time like read a book or brush your teeth, just stay away from the boy because he is a liar. That is all I will say on the subject because at the time of writing this you are at Rainbows and playing happily like a little girl should, and that is all I want in my head right now.

Just remember Ann Summers.

Alcohol: Your friend and nemesis

Alcohol has always been around you, I have not been one of those parents who has ever hidden it from you. Why should I, it is not a bad thing....well, not always. I am still learning about alcohol, I am currently 26 and when you read this you I will be 33 and more than likely still learning. Unless I have become T-total. Hahahahahahahahaha, yeah right. I have had many an episode with alcohol, I could have even had my own TV show with all of the episodes I have had. They are all mostly fun, but you do have to beware – the demon drink can live up to being just that, a demon. You will have your own trials and tribulations with it over the next few years, I am not going to pretend that I think you will not touch alcohol until you are 18, unless that is your choice, but you are my daughter so I highly doubt that would cross your mind.

Though I can see us as being like Eddie and Saffy from ‘Absolutely Fabulous’ (Google it darling, or if Google is not around use whatever you can to find out about it. We may have gone back to pigeon mail so if that is the case go and get a pigeon), You would be all sensible and I would be strutting around swigging from a champagne bottle thinking I was still 26. I am quite the pro when it comes to alcohol so even if it is 3am in the morning and you are completely ratted, call me. I will send a taxi to come and get you. What? I will have been on the bubbles darling.

The best mantra to live by

‘Everything happens for a reason.’ If you apply that to every crappy thing that happens in your life, I guarantee you will feel better about everything.

You: ‘My dress for the school disco hasn’t arrived!’

Me: ‘What are we going to do about it?

You: ‘Well everything happens for a reason, so never mind. We can go into town and you can buy me a new one, along with a diamond necklace to make me feel better.’

Me: ‘Um, ok.’

I can’t guarantee the diamonds unless my career has panned out how I am hoping it will in my head. If it has then you will have a million dresses and anything you could ever want. Actually wait, I don’t want you to be even more of a spoilt brat so you can have 999,999 dresses and one diamond necklace as long as I can borrow it whenever I want.

If things haven’t panned out and we are living in a cardboard box then, well....’everything happens for a reason.’

Respect Johnny Depp

He is your idol, no arguments. YOU KNOW NOTHING.

Johnny Depp is an amazing actor, an amazing man and your father. I am just kidding, calm down. I am pretty sure that he would get a restraining order against me if I went anywhere near him, I just wanted to touch him a little bit but his security people were not too happy with that. I would be ok with just a little poke, just a little shove to let him know I am there, hopefully you have not opened this while I am in prison. If I am not then we will have a marathon Johnny Depp film day. We will watch anything and everything he has been in, including 21 Jump Street. He may have only been in it for about 5 minutes but he stole the film. Or was that me?

Again, I am not being serious, those days are behind me- which reminds me theft is not a good hobby to have when you are a teenager. Just a reminder. It will not look good on your CV.

Life lessons over, let’s go and party!

Happy birthday! xxx

Oh and just to embarrass you that little bit more...

Romantic Misadventures presents: Tales of 'First Dates'

Spending the evening with a bunch of people willing to bare their embarrassing and hilarious stories of their first dates sounded like a perfect night for me, so that is exactly what I did last night.

I obviously spent 20 minutes wondering around London lost as I do, but I did find Fleet Street and was quite excited to be milling around with all of the hacks.

I have just finished reading ‘The Diaries of a Fleet Street Fox’ by Susie Boniface. She came and gave a talk while I was studying at Brighton Journalist Works, so even though I was lost and stressed, in some weird way it felt kind of reassuring to know she had walked around the same streets. We were hacks together, ok so I can’t really call myself that yet. I am a hack in training.

After retracing my steps back to Farringdon Station, I re-read the directions. ‘Turn right out of the station.’ Ah the turn right was not the right that was straight out of the station but right and then right again.....riiiggghhhttt.

Eventually I found where I needed to be, it used to be a church which I found quite ironic as there was sure to be swearing and stories of an intimate nature (sex tales, lots of sex tales). Mind you the people taking to the stage knew they would be judged- in a nice way, well the audience would be nice but I couldn’t speak for the Almighty.

There were round tables with candles dotted around the room and I was filled with trepidation. Was this going to be a night full of couples and I would be sat sticking out like a sore thumb?

I found a seat at the back and ate my daily Crunchie, everyone has habits and a daily Crunchie is one of mine.

An artistic looking man came and sat next to me, we had a bit of a chat but I had food all in my teeth so I kept my mouth tight when I spoke and looked like I had some kind of problem.

I grabbed a glass of wine at the bar and was delighted to only be asked for £3.00, in London I expect everything to be about £10 so it was a turn up for the books and my purse.

I returned to my seat, swilled some wine around my mouth and asked the artist if he had been to one of these shows before because I didn’t want him to think I was a snooty bitch from down South who didn’t associate myself with Londoners.

He explained he has been to one a couple of weeks previously, he was a stand-up comic and was going to tell a story in the open mic section of the evening here. Satisfied that I had made him think more of me than just being a rude bitch, I returned to looking at my phone.

The first story was by Kit Harrington-no wait, he is that tasty looking dish from Game of Thrones or some similar program bare with- just need to Google....

Ah, Kit Lovelace. Think about that name for a moment....for me it conjures up an image of a voluptuous woman similar to Dita Von Teese, so when a very tall slender man stood up and started speaking without a feather boa in sight, I was taken aback and kept looking around for a Dita look-a-like.

Once I had got over my initial shock, I realised I had missed the beginning of his story. I focused and got the gist of it- a very, very drunk woman passing out. I was literally so distracted and annoyed at myself for missing the first part of his story that I nearly asked him if he could repeat it.

He left the stage and I made sure that I was concentrating fully, I am glad I did as the next story involved nuns, a Travelodge and period sex. I won’t go into it as I am sure you can dive into your own imagination, but the woman telling the story was very funny and drunk. Drunk on her first date I mean, not on stage, though she could have been. I would have had to have been to tell a story such as hers but it was bloody brilliant.

The next story was my favourite, the guy set the scene of being a 15-year-old boy, it was quite easy to imagine myself as a boy. When I was younger I used to believe that girls grew up to be boys and boys grew up to be girls, I was a very liberal six-year-old.

I digress. So, this boy had a foreign exchange student stay with him and his parents for a week and he fell in love with her as soon as she walked off the bus. They spent the week together and on the final night they kissed, awww. He gave her his email address and off she went back to Germany. (I think it was Germany, the wine had taken hold by that point in the night so my memory is a little fuzzy.)

A month after she left he got a email from Monica with a K, which is how she spelt her name- I imagine it is something like this...Kmonica.

For 7 months they emailed, he sent her poems, they spoke about their feelings, they spoke about sex, then one day she said she had got some money for her birthday and she wanted to visit him. She said to him in her email: ‘I don’t want to leave the hotel room.’ A girl saying that to a guy at any age is going to get him hot under the collar, but he was fifteen so he was soooooooo excited.

He arrange to meet her at her hotel, when he got there the receptionist sent him up to the room. He knocked on the door, no answer. He heard the shower running and tried the door, it was open.

There were German magazines and clothes thrown all over the room, he sat on the bed and waited for her to get out of the shower. Then thinking that was creepy, he knocked on the bathroom door to tell her he was there.

The shower was turned off, he heard sniggering then 15 of his friends fell out of the bathroom laughing at him.
He said to them: ‘Guys you have got to go, Kmonica is coming!’

Bless him.

I was in stitches, poor guy had been duped for 7 months by his friends, and to rub further salt in the wound they printed off every email exchange from all of those months. Poems, sex chats, romantic feelings. I didn’t get the chance to ask if he was still friends with any of them now.

There was another guy who told us about a girl chewing his face off and making him bleed, which was amusing, but then came the best part- the open mic part.

Anyone in the audience was allowed to tell their first date/ romantic misadventure story.

There were a few contenders, including the artistic looking comedian who I was sat next to. He told a sweet story about a girl and some cherries, but the best one was by a girl who sounded and sort of looked like Rebel Wilson.

Her story was about when she was house sitting, she invited a guy over but he became paranoid she was going to film them having sex and put it on a porn site. The full extent of the story is far too X-rated for here unfortunately, but she made me proper belly laugh and I could have listened to her all night.

But like all good things, they have to come to an end. I cannot wait to go and have another adventure with this group of people, luckily for me SPARK are holding another event on 8th February in Hackney down the road from where I work.

The theme is ‘Boldness.’

Maybe I could be bold and join in with the open mic section, then again maybe I will just sit at the back eating my Crunchie.

http://stories.co.uk/

(Picture is from @kitlovelace)

Valentine's day gifts for gym bunnies

Obviously now I am working at a fitness magazine I am a total fitness freak...ok, slight exaggeration but I do always walk up and down the tube escalators now, however I do like a good bit of fitness gear.

I have looked for the best gadgets and fitness things on the internet and come up with my top 3 valentines presents for gym bunnies.

I know, you’re thinking it’s too early right? Check your calendar people, it is just over two weeks away- you are welcome for the reminder.

I only know when it is as I am running a half marathon that day, stop laughing, I am and I am also going to have all of this stuff with me. Actually, maybe not the last one...

Axent Wear Cat Ear Headphones

These may have been around for a while but they still make me puuurrrr.

They have cat ear shaped external speakers, 40 mm driver with 20 Hz to 20KHz frequency response, Removable 3.5 mm jack with mic and USB charger included, bright LED lights, and over-the-ear cushioned bits. I don’t even know what half of that means, but I want them so bad, I’m so excited right now just looking at them.

After much searching I found them online http://www.brookstone.com/axent-wear-cat-ear-headphones/990635p.html?bkeid=partner|vendor|axentwear|catearheadhonesbuybutton for $129.99.

I have been unable to locate them in the UK so if you find them email me STRAIGHT AWAY!

UP MOVE

This unassuming bit of kit is actually an activity tracker, a sleep tracker, food logger and smart coach.

The features on this little one are almost never ending, it will encourage you to get up and move- just as it says on the tin.

It comes in a variety of different colours, including my favourite- yellow!

You don’t even have to wear it on your wrist, it comes with a variety of different clips so you can wear it pretty much anywhere- oi! Keep it clean.

Think it couldn’t get any better? It is just £39.99 https://jawbone.com/store/buy/upmove

Gym bunny mug

Well this is awkward, while searching for a gym bunny t-shirt I kept on seeing t-shirts with ‘Gym Bunny’ and loads of men next to it.

I then clapped my eyes on this mug which has a definition of a gym bunny:

‘Noun – A gay man who spends unlimited hours in the gym to appeal to other gay men.’

Well that is news to me. All I wanted was a cute t-shirt with a picture of a bunny on it, and now I have found out what the internet’s version of a gym bunny is.

I’m so confused, am I the only person who didn’t know this?

I need to go and do some more research.

If you want the mug it is £13.05 http://www.zazzle.co.uk/gym+bunny+gifts

Super Doopa Bites

I picked up both the banana and orange flavour superbites when I was in ASDA when I was ‘trying to be good’ which was really me just saying to myself: ‘No you can’t possibly eat another chocolate bar as that will be three today and it is only 11am.’

These superfood truffles jumped out at me while I was staring at the nuts and boredom was starting to take over.

Chocolate orange is one of my favourite flavours and I am always trying to find chocolate banana flavoured products and had no luck until now. (Unless you count mixing banana and chocolate Nesquik together to make a cocoa banana milkshake.)

The Good 4 You bites are made with seeds and fruit but I enjoyed them as much as I do when I am hovering up a chocolate bar, they made me feel like I was still being indulgent and I didn’t have to worry about the calories.

My product idea for them next is to design a box of bigger superfood truffles with more flavours- lemon and cocoa, raspberry and cocoa, strawberry and cocoa, mint and cocoa, maybe even chilli and cocoa.

That would be Good 4 me.

One of 'those days'.

Yesterday I felt like this:

I just wasn't feeling it from the get go. Getting up at 6am to get a train to London was not how I wanted to spend my morning. I was just a real grump, well I was in the morning, in the afternoon I wanted to cry at everything.

I couldn't write a sentence and nearly cried, a nice text nearly made me cry, I shouted 'TAMPONS' in Sainsbury's and nearly cried.

Ah yes, about that....I had to go into a shop I was not familiar with and search for tampons. Any woman who has had to do the search for tampons in a new shop will know my pain.

I couldn't find them so I had to ask, I'm not embarrassed about asking for them, but I was in a tiny shop crammed full of stroppy Londoners who looked like they wanted to stamp on me in my search because I kept walking round and round aimlessly.

I walked up to a woman and asked her quietly where the tampons were, she looked at me and scrunched up her face 'What?'

Me: 'Tampons, do you have them or are they behind the counter?'

Woman: 'I don't know what you are talking about?'

Me: 'TAMPONS, TAMPONS! DO YOU HAVE ANY TAMPONS?!'

She pointed to some baby wipes and I considered miming what I was after, it worked in Spain when I mimed shaving my legs to ask for razors but after careful consideration I decided miming tampons was not the best idea and left the shop.

Thankfully my tampon journey came to an end when I found a Superdrug, I hugged the box tightly and vowed to never run out again.

I got to my hostel and was excited when I found my room because it was the best one yet. Spacious, it even has a desk and I am on the bottom bunk! No more clambering up and down stairs- for this week anyway.

I have also found the best self contained shower and toilet cubicle, I have claimed it as my own. The other bathrooms have a row of toilets and a row of shower cubicles so this is pure luxury!

I am off now to spend some time in my lovely bed oh, and to cuddle my tampons. Night.

Stripping at Nudie Snacks

The people at Nudie snacks like stripping, stripping their products bare- why what were you thinking?

Their premium coconut chips have nothing artificial, no preservatives and they are never fried. You can snack away guilt free.

There are three flavours to choose from plain coconut (which are anything but plain, they just have the pure taste of coconut which is delicious), sweet Thai chilli which have a bit of a kick but the underlying coconut flavour makes sure it is not too much and my favourite salt and vinegar.

When I first tried them, my taste buds and brain were totally discombobulated (fantastic word, needs to be used more in my opinion.) I was all over the place because they were savoury and tasted just like salt and vinegar crisps should, then the sweet flavour of the coconut came through and it took me a while to unscramble my brain.

When I did, I couldn’t get enough of them. I have literally eaten them every day.

Give them a try yourself.

Ocado.com 99p for 35g packet.

www.nudiesnacks.co.uk

Bunk bed bugger

Climbing in and out of a bunk bed at 26 years old is harder than you might think, I'm not a flexible as I once was and then there is the height issue.

When I was ten I had a full on panic attack at school in front of my whole year group when I got stuck on a climbing apparatus in gym class.

I cried and refused to climb back down the slanted bench 2 inches away from me. I am not exaggerating, if any of my classmates are reading this I guarantee they will still snigger at the memory.

Still, it could be worse. At least I am not on the top bunk bed, there are three on top of each other so don't laugh thinking I am on the bottom bunk. I am on the middle one as I said yesterday in case you forgot. But being dedicated readers I imagine you would already know this information.

In the Evening Standard today I read that laughing can burn as many calories as a walk. Apparently researcher Dr Helen Pilcher discovered howling laughter can burn as many as 120 calories an hour which is similar to a moderate walking pace. Well that is a perfect excuse to get myself out to a comedy club for the evening then, I wonder if howling laughter would also counteract the bottle of wine I would consume?

Also in the same paper, a report on air pollution has revealed London has hit record levels. Yesterdays pollution was at 10/10 in Upper Thames Street, a level which apparently has only been recorded three times in the past two years. It advises to reduce physical activity, particularly outdoors. As if I needed another excuse to not move my arse off the sofa in my hostel common room.

Though my half marathon is looming, so I did manage to get out for a light jog for about ten minutes. What?! I wasn't allowed to do much more according to the paper!

I did discover a nice little jog route near my work at lunch time which I am going to try out tomorrow. I discovered that Regent's Canal is just a couple of minutes walk away from my office and went for a little gander.

I kept close to the wall though as I have a fear of falling into canals, I don't know why but I think I wouldn't be able to get back out and I would drown. I do have the weirdest fears.

Which includes this metal man...

He scares the hell out of me everyday, I think he comes alive at night and patrols the corridors for naughty people.

Well, I had better be off as I have a ton of work to do before tomorrow, and I don't want him chasing me up the stairs if it gets too late.

Bye for now from smoggy London!

Female columnist required

I applied for a job today as a female columnist writing about the perils of relationships.

Perfect I thought, this job has my name written all over it.

So I fired off my application, this is it exactly as I emailed it...

Put two men, six kids and one woman in one house, what do you get? Complete and utter chaos.

That was my life up until a week ago when I left them all behind to follow my dream to become a journalist in London.

I will explain a few things first before you think I am the most selfish mother and partner on the planet.

Only one of the six children is mine by blood, three of the children are my boyfriends and the last two belong to my boyfriend’s housemate who is an incurable romantic, he needs training though as he thinks oven chips can be cooked in the microwave and don’t get me started on the toilet.

My relationship is pretty fresh at four months old, but my boyfriend knows me inside out (he really does, don’t roll your eyes), so far we have only had one argument...over chocolate.

There is one thing a man should never come between – a woman and her chocolate. There was nearly blood spilt.

Our other tribulation was my decision to abandon him and move to London for the next three months.

My daughter is with her dad during the week and I have her at weekends. As I will be commuting back home for the weekends, my decision doesn’t affect her too much.

My boyfriend is brilliant and says he supports me but I do find myself questioning him, especially after a glass of wine or two.

Am I doing the right thing?

Have I considered his feelings enough?

Is our relationship strong enough to survive?

And the most important...

Will I bump into Johnny Depp?

My star sign in today’s paper said to trust my instincts as exciting times are ahead. I hope whoever wrote that is not giving me false hope.



Written by Rebecca Frew, blogger at sym-ple1.blogspot.com

Here are a few links to my blogs:

http://sym-ple1.blogspot.com/2015/11/10-things-i-have-learnt-living-with-two.html

http://sym-ple1.blogspot.com/2015/12/five-things-i-learnt-looking-after-3.html

http://sym-ple1.blogspot.com/2016/01/london-life-week-end.html


Please consider me for the position of your new female columnist.

Thank you,

Rebecca Frew

SYM-ple (Single Yummy Mummy- I know, I named my blog in a moment of madness and now I can't change it. I will have to think of another word for the S now....Sexy Yummy Mummy, no I'm not sure about that either.

I will work on it and just to be clear, we don't all live on a caravan site (what with having six kids in all), we only have all six every other weekend and we live in a lovely 4 bedroom semi-detached house in Angmering.

I like to think of myself of the Victoria Beckham of Sussex, just without the money or the fashion sense- though I do wear heels all of the time and a lot of black.

I received an email back a few hours later:

Hi Bex,

Thank you very much for applying - unfortunately I have decided to chose someone else, although your writing is good. We needed a childless writer on the dating scene!

I will keep you in mind for future features.


I felt like I had been punched in the stomach.

A childless writer? I thought the days of wanting to be Carrie Bradshaw were over because it is so outdated.

I'm disappointed that because I have a child it seems I am irrelevant in the dating scene, does it make me uncool and unreadable having a child or six?

Even Bridget Jones, writer, inspiration, and pillar of strength for women everywhere now has a child.

I understand they want some young hip girl going out into the dating world to write about as many disasters as she can, but what about the real relationships?

Do people not want to know what happens after the happy ending?

What about writing and reading about real life?

What about the perils of being in a relationship wit kids and work and stress and money and LIFE.

Or am I just too old and irrelevant for people to care?

Are childless writers more exciting and vibrant than as seemingly dowdy mothers?

My head hurts, I'm going to bed and it's not even 9pm. Maybe that says it all....