The Four Little Seymours are not bad kids. OK, they have their faults, like we all do. A lot of the faults are tech-related, or revision-related – you, know, the usual kind of stuff. Luckily, we are yet to experience the horrors of narcotics, or the “Can my boyfriend stay Read more
January 2024! By gosh, that feels very futuristic. Like a movie set in space, or a story by George Orwell. But no. Here we are, two thousand and twenty four years after the birth of Little Baby Jesus, or thereabouts, and we humans are still f@cking up our planet and Read more
Yesterday, my brother presented me with a copy of Matt Haig’s Reasons to Stay Alive. In handing it over, he gave a brief description of its general theme (the author suffered with his mental health) and then caveat-ed his verbal blurb with a dismissal: “But I’m not saying that you Read more
Little Seymour Number One is now nineteen. She has completed a year at university and made wonderful friends, fully embracing all the changes that have been hurled her way. She’s adapted to leaving home, starting a degree and being self-sufficient. She is a proper adult now. In contrast to her Read more
I want to correct something from my last post… It has been on my mind. I have started my new job this week. And – whilst I may have suggested I am “supremely overqualified” for it (how pompous!) I am by no means an expert in this field of learning Read more
I hate selling houses. It seems like a good idea at the time and then – BOOM! Your home isn’t your own, the slightest scratch or dent in the paintwork is punishable by crucifixion and the hamster, who normally has the run of a large tank, is confined to smaller, Read more
My aunt died in August. I loved her a lot. She was unconventional, kind and not hindered by the unofficial laws of social norms. She was beautiful, my aunt. Totally beautiful to me. As a child, I was drawn to her. She was interesting to be with. Always forgiving. Ever Read more
The title of this latest musing leaves me feeling a bit uncomfortable. I’d like to think I am a writer, I would like to make a living as a writer, I dream of turning into a proper writer and of being at dinner parties where, when that dreadful, universal question Read more
There is a grave in our garden. In it, I have buried Oritse (of JLS fame)’s head, his bowler hat, a few limbs, a car or two and many, many bits of plastic tat. OK, so it’s not really a grave. It is a chasm. A pit. A hole, really. Read more
Boris, please! I know you have a gargantuan task ahead. I do. I don’t envy your responsibilities right now, I don’t. But seriously now. Seriously. Be brave. Let us out. I swear to God, this LOCKDOWN is killing us. Our teenagers, our little ones, our cancer patients, our mentally vulnerable. Read more