Showing posts from September, 2016


Criminal mummy!
I stomped around the house wondering if I could pull off "chav mum". "I've got this!" I thought to myself. Diego, my 2 year old teenager gawped at me as I threw my weight around the house, growling at him every so often to complete my new look. If he could roll his eyes, that's what he'd be doing.
I pulled on my joggers and showed off my tattoos and piercings. I even attempted the shaved head look with some braids. I felt pretty great. Looking in the mirror had never been a pastime of mine, but I gazed at my new reflection eagerly. That's me!

Due to the huge amount of media I had found myself consuming lately, I had been worrying about turning into some kind of violent, gobby criminal. If I lost sleep over anything, this would be it. The older generation that I know had expanded my knowledge on the topic. And that meant that I was going to undergo some terrible, hell-rising transformation over night! I kissed one of the selfies I had ta…

VOXX COLUMN JULY 2016 - Croc Tower.

I have never been the type to judge. Everyone has a story. The wise say few words. Living by this concept, I observe quietly. Part of that is my anxiety. The other part is my lack of whit. If I fire back what I think is a funny reply, it's usually not very funny at all. Apart from to me. I think I'm hilarious.
To my shock I desperately fought a giggle when a lady tripped up. Whilst walking towards me down the street, she ‘Olympic long jump’ style rugby tackled uneven pavement. I stifled my laugh like a pro, secretly wondering whether I was turning into a monster or developing a much more normal sense of humour. I looked away, pretending I hadn't seen a thing.
Simply put, toddlers have no concept of holding back. So whilst I politely refrained from drawing attention to the lady, Diego began laughing hysterically from his pushchair below me. Within a few seconds I had processed different distraction techniques, ways in which I could re-direct the giggling elsewhere and save t…


The Flight
I dawdled as I made my way towards the plane. I couldn't wait to go on holiday, don't get me wrong. But the four hour journey with Diego was a decision I was quickly changing my mind about.

He'd already cried throughout the car journey. He'd also screamed his way through customs. I was wondering what alcohol they served by 9 in the morning. Promising Diego that we would be moving soon, I swept confidently through the metal detecting machines, I'd already planned ahead for this. Nothing metal on us!
Then we bleeped. They searched me. I had to get my feet out. I hate feet. And then Diego. Diego did not like being searched.
I’d soon given up the pleading looks I had been throwing my parents. They grinned back like Cheshire cats. Or Dementors, draining my soul. It seemed to be flashing between the two, depending on the noise level escaping Diego.

The flight was a joy… on the scale of almost as enjoyable as how many times I had fantasized about pouring my boy&#…