lundi 19 février 2018

We are the Misfits!

My cousin and bestest friend (AKA frousin) Nic is pretty awesome. Recently, she has moved to Brighton (to the end of my road - yay) and become a yoga teacher.

She is now launching MISFIT YOGA, which I personally think is a very exciting and brilliant idea. Basically, it's yoga made fun and accessible, not scary Insta showing off, with laid-back and friendly people. She will be running workshops, initially around the Brighton area, but let her know if you live somewhere else and are interested!

There will also be a MISFIT NEWSLETTER! I am very delighted to disclose that I will be helping out with this side of things, so as well as more information about Misfit and yoga wisdom from Nic, please do sign up if you have any interest in receiving amusing, tenuously yoga-related articles from me, straight to your inbox. Boom.

Expect my thoughts on Madonna arms, the classic Geri Halliwell yoga video, inspirational women in general, fitting in exercise when you have a full-time job plus side hustle plus social life, recipes, random book/music/article recommendations, and other such life-enhancing ephemera.

I'll leave you with the original Misfits. Well, kinda. The best ones, anyway (haha).

jeudi 15 février 2018

Year of the Dog

Happy Chinese New Year's Eve! We are leaving the Rooster and going into the Year of the Dog...

Last year, the Year of the Rooster was 'my' year. I got excited about this. I planned an elaborate themed party. I made vast trays of chicken wings (because cannibalistic roosters are funny, right?!) and 'red rooster' cocktails. I spent a small fortune on decorations and fortune cookies at the Chinese supermarket and wore a lucky red dress.

It was a fun night. We drew roosters on the walls in red chalk and I argued with a boy about Ferris Bueller's Day Off, and Ruth and I were last up after everyone else had gone home. In the morning, cleaning up the kitchen took on a somehow profound tone as I kept finding fortune cookie mottos everywhere.

It was only later, when my friend and fellow rooster Katherine read up on it - which I had not bothered to do - we discovered that being roosters in the Year of the Rooster is not actually lucky. We are in for a much better year this year.

So, I've actually bothered reading up on the appropriate customs this year... This evening I will be cleaning my house and doing the washing. Tomorrow: wear red, don't do any cleaning, don't eat porridge or do any needlework, and don't under any circumstances wash your hair!

Worth a go, right?

In other news:

  • I had lovely Valentine's Day flowers yesterday from my mum (haha).
  • I am working hard on a top-secret writing project.
  • I have thoroughly enjoyed and recommend Dolly Alderton and particularly Cat Marnell's memoirs.
  • I am feeling fondly towards badgers.
  • My friend Charlie has started a brand-new work-in-progress blog, The Unmisunderstood, which is worth taking the time to have a read.
  • My friend Jess is involved in this Stripes anthology, which I am excited about.

vendredi 2 février 2018

Today's cliches, brought to you by...

My coat cost £20 from a junk shop and I just spent £101 in Holland and Barrett.

I know I'm an idiot, but I think something in that £101 shopping bag *might* just be the thing that changes my life. When I was younger, I genuinely used to think that 'going on a diet' would also miraculously make me taller, as well as skinnier.

This morning I walked by the river in London silently composing a mournful eulogy for the olive green bobble hat I lost on a Friday night at L'Escargot over a month ago. I'm suddenly, inexplicably - or maybe slightly explicably - furious about it.

When I'm depressed, my ancient old-school self-indulgent blog wakes up and also becomes one big elaborate subtweet.

When my little sister tells me to do something, I do it. She is always right.

I'm still genuinely, properly sad that Chanel discontinued my all-time favourite lipstick (Egerie).

There's something fun about crying in public behind sunglasses in broad daylight. Crying in close proximity to another person, though (whether family member, friend, sex partner or therapist) - that's a different story.

I wonder what sort of new hat I should get to replace the one I lost. Maybe I need a new gigantic cardigan as well.

Also I should probably buy some velvet knickers.

But I must live off store cupboard rations this week (see: £101 spent on useless supplements).

I cried at a busker playing 'My Heart Will Go On' on an accordion earlier this week. Unfortunately I was not wearing sunglasses. I think I am just tired.

jeudi 1 février 2018

Over. It.

January is over. The supermoon is over (although it was, rather magically, still visible in the sky as I took the early morning train into London this morning).

Today it is a new month, a beautiful sunny day in London. Spring in the air is sniffable.

Yesterday, I wept through therapy, dragged myself through a dance class hoping it 'would help' (it did, kind of - only kind of). I ate a barely-cooked steak as big as my face. I had a full-moon bath and left my crystals out on the windowsill. Then I stayed up for most of the night watching The End of the F***ing World. Cannot recommend highly enough, is pretty much all you need to know from me. Bonus props for the on-point True Romance aesthetic, perfect architecture and Earl Cave.

I've saved this article by the inspiring (in an I-wanna-be-her-or-maybe-be-her-friend-or-at-least-have-her-hair sort of a way) Molly Guy. I've been finding it most useful. When ANYONE offers you a plate of crumbs and tells you it's a feast, tell them to fuck right off. I'm working on it. A work-in-progress, I must admit.

Today, I brought a green smoothie to work in a fucking Kilner jar for my breakfast. Smug levels high. Think I might go and hang out in Holland and Barrett at lunchtime. Yoga tonight.

The Fuck-Boys-in-the-Eye February regimen is afoot. I'm actually excited.