A Wholesome Weekend

A Wholesome Weekend


09:35 I’m trying really hard to get up and go to the gym. After years of being told that exercise is good for you, I have finally come to that same realisation. I feel INCREDIBLE after every workout. I have too many endorphins to worry about what awkward thing I said to someone a week ago or how I’m definitely going to be fired any day or how I’m 25 and STILL haven’t lived in another country or written my book or got a cat or bla bla bla.

But even though exercise makes me feel good, I still really fucking hate it. I hate everything about it that isn’t finishing. Although I even hate finishing because then I have to take off my sport clothes (is that the correct term?) and that can be even worse than the actual exercise. Question: How do people make getting undressed in the gym look so effortless? They’re just in their sport clothes one minute and the next they’re fully dressed! HOW? I’m in my sport clothes one minute and the next I can’t get my trousers passed my thighs and my bum’s been out in full view for what feels like a decade.

But at least it’s a Saturday so I won’t need to get changed at the gym.

Right. I’m going. I’m getting up. URGHHHH. Does anyone actually look forward to exercising????????

10:57 The gym is done. Although I feel like I didn’t really complete a good session. I went into the weight room after doing my cardio but there was a man there who knew what he was doing, so I picked up some weights that were way too light, did one clumsy squat, then hauled my ass out of there.

Breakie time.

12:48 Breakie is done. AND MY GOD IT WAS AMAZING. You want to see what I made?


Oh yeah. Sourdough toast slathered in delicious full fat butter, asparagus (fried in delicious full fat butter), avocado, tomatoes, and poached eggs. I already know this is going to be the highlight of my weekend.

I’m currently drinking a wee cup of tea with almond milk. I thought I’d try it after a character in a TV show said that soy milk gives you breast cancer. I definitely prefer soy milk. Almond milk is a bit nutty. Hmm…

I’m trying a new sort of diet. Whenever I dieted before, I would pretty much starve myself while I was at work and then I’d go home and eat my weight in EVERYTHING. As you can probably gather, it didn’t really do me that much good. Now I’m just trying to make an effort with food. I’m quite lucky in that I don’t really like sweet things all that much. I don’t crave sugary doughnuts (although I always lose at least 10 minutes of shopping time to just drooling in front of the Krispy Kreme counter in Tesco) or chocolate or strawberry laces – just thinking about them makes my teeth go all weird. So I never have to battle with myself not to eat sweets. My battle centres around really unhealthy savoury food. Things like crisps and chips and cheese and onion rings and potato scones and ooh scones and brioche buns with cheese and bread slathered in fish roe (don’t knock it till you try it).

The thing is though, I also love healthy savoury food. Things like avocados and nuts (apart from almonds it seems) and hummus and aubergines and pretty much any vegetable and lean meat and all kinds of fish. It’s just that I’m so lazy I never cook anything that tasty and nutritious for dinner and I don’t get organised enough to prepare lunches for the week.

So that’s what I’ve been trying to change. And even though I hate cooking, it can be fun sometimes. Especially with a wee glass of wine and a good podcast or audiobook on in the background. I’ve also started going to the gym, so instead of trying to cut my meals down, I let myself eat as much as I want (within moderation – if I was to truly let myself go I’d eat the whole of Scotland).

Anyway, I should really go and shower.

17:09 Went for a wee walk in the Botanic Gardens with the boyf. It was nice. My brain’s been a bit weird this week and I’ve pretty much been binge-drinking every weekend since November, so I wanted this weekend to be very wholesome. No drinking (although I’ll probably have a small glass of red wine tonight), good eating, a spot of exercise, and a good book.

Makes you sick, doesn’t it?


09:40 So funnily enough, I actually got sick. Sore bones, shivery, fever, sore throat bla bla bla. Still had my wee glass of red wine though. Which I did while eating some leftover chilli:


I feel like alcohol can actually help you get better. Like, you know how you’d put it on a cut to help it heal? Well, I feel like it does the same thing to whatever bugs you’ve got. Just kills them. Boom. Although sadly, I still feel like shit today. Maybe it’s because I keep drinking when I’m ill.

The leftover chilli was YUM. Chilli’s definitely get better the longer they’re left, don’t they? Have you ever found that normal online recipes are pretty skimpy with flavour? I find that all the time. If I follow recipes to the bone, the meal always comes out bland. So now I don’t trust them. Only put one teaspoon of cumin in? I put in two tablespoons. Two cloves of garlic???? Come on, it surely means five.

We ate the chilli while watching Apollo 13 – our go-to film. We pretty much watch it every six months. Because it’s INCRED. Although it does make me mad that the only female characters were the wives and mums who were sitting at home all worried. Pfffft. I know it’s based on a real story and that there would have been no female engineers or mathematicians or doctors or physicists or scientists or electricians working in NASA at the time BUT THAT GETS ME ALL RILED.

Other than that, I really like the film. No matter how many times I watch it, I’m always so scared that they won’t make it home. That their heat shield will crack or they’ll run out of power or they’ll freeze to death or, if they do manage to get back to earth safely, they’ll be killed in the typhoon that’s heading straight for their landing spot. That would be the biggest sod’s law of all time.

Meant to

Cousins Reunion

Cousins Reunion

So if you’ve been reading my blog for a while (or if you actually know me – the majority of my readership) you will know that my dad is NUTS. But something you might not know is that he has four brothers and sisters. Or three brothers and one sister to be exact. And they were all a bit nuts too. They were all so nuts – and so nuts in their own way – that they would clash quite a bit. They were all very hot-headed and they liked an argument. In fact, they liked to argue so much that they haven’t spoken in YEARS. The last time I saw my uncle Graham was when he threw my dad in a pool in Greece in 2001. Ha, that was such a tense holiday. And I was only 9 so I was acutely aware of the tensions (children are more aware, aren’t they?).

My god, I’m rambling. Can you tell I haven’t written a blog in a wee while?

Anyway, to cut a long story short – they didn’t get on. And it was a shame because in the short periods of time that they would tolerate each other, I really liked my cousins. They were awesome! But aside from playing restaurants and “We’re orphans, right? And we’ve just woken up in a jungle…”, I didn’t get to know them very well.

*Dramatic pause*


We’re all heading to Glasgow for one big reunion. Just the cousins though. No adults allowed. And eeeee!

I’m nervous.

They all seem REALLY cool. At least my brother will be there – although he is also quite cool. Meh. It’ll be grand. They say blood is thicker than water, right? And I’m on my third can of gin and tonic so that’s got to help.

Next stop Glasgow Queen Street.

Wish me luck.

I’m Blogging on a Friday Night

I’m Blogging on a Friday Night

Okay. So blogging on a Friday night doesn’t sound that fun BUT I have had a few glasses of wine and I have no idea what this blog is going to be about – I’m letting my hair down (very figuratively) and going rogue. It’s wild.

One thing I thought I’d write about is friendship. I was going to have the title “A Good Friend Is…” and then the blog would be a big list of all the traits of a good friend. It would have had stuff like they give it to you straight and you don’t want to kill them. Or you want to kill them but you can tell them you want to kill them and then you can have a laugh about it. Or they laugh at your outfit choices. Or they tally up the amount of favours you owe them. Or they’ll get drunk with you if you need it. Or they’ll stay in with you if you need it. They know your mum. They tell you that they prefer your mum over you. A good friend is sort of like having a partner but without the sexual attraction. Like, you could probably marry your best friend if you fancied them. Sometimes, you wish you did fancy them. That would make life easy. They’re always on your side – even when it seems like they’re not.

So yeah, it was going to be stuff like that. BUT THEN I thought I’d write about Nina Stibbe. I LOVE HER. Like, I actually really properly think I love her. She’s written four books and I love them all. One of the books was made into a TV show and I love that. I listened to a podcast with her in it this morning and she was warm, funny, intelligent, and NICE. I know some people hate the word “nice”, but it’s TOTALLY underrated. I love nice people – well, just as long as they have a bit of edge. Or not an edge – just something genuine, if that makes sense? But anyway, back to Nina. She’s had a reallly quirky childhood and I think that’s why I relate to all her stories so much. Her parents are totally fucking mental – like mine. If we met, we’d probably have a real good bond over our mental childhoods.

So then I thought I’d write about parents. The different parents you get. The different ways we can all be screwed up – or the different ways we can all turn out great, I suppose. But urgh, that all gets a bit grey, doesn’t it? And who really cares about the kinds of parents there are? I really just wanted to write about the time my dad tried to convince me that getting high would help me get an A in my English Higher.

Then I thought I’d write about Christmas. About how people tend to get a bit nuts at Christmas. But meh. I’m not ready to write about Christmas yet. IT’S TOO STRESSFUL. Not only do I not know what I want to get people, but I don’t know what they should get me. It’s SUCH a hard life.

Then I thought I’d just start writing and see what happened.

And then this happened.

Being 24 (And Why It’s Awesome)

Being 24 (And Why It’s Awesome)

MIND FUCK: 24 was the age all the characters in Friends were when the show started and that’s the age I am now (and have been for a wee while). WHAAAAAAT?

They were so grown up. They had sex, jobs, some money, apartments, relationships, annoying parents, and all sorts of grown up things. They were my idols. Their lives looked incredible. They were 24. And now I’m 24. Yikes.

But it’s a good age, isn’t it? I think it is. Here’s why:


People who are 24 tend to have a job. Studying (URGH) is no longer required. You can go home at 6 and you can switch off — if you want. Because you can stay switched on if you like your job. Either way, you win. Love your job? You’re getting paid to have fun. Hate your job? You still have actual proper guilt-free free time. Also, at 24, you don’t have to feel guilty if you’re not doing your “dream job”. There’s still time.


Gone are the days when you have to be friends with absolute dicks because not having friends looks super uncool. You’re only friends with people you genuinely really like and care about. To be fair, they’re probably a bit dickish too. But dickish in a good way. They call you up on bullshit and keep you on your toes. And you can also be dickish. They forgive you when you make a drunken moron of yourself or don’t text them back for ages or bail on events because you can’t be assed or WHATEVER. You love them and they love you – annoying warts and all. See Peter’s Friends for reference.


So you’re definitely not as self-conscious as you were when you were in your teens. And you’ve sort of come to the realisation that being yourself is alright. You do the things that you think are fun and that’s that. And instead of telling people lies so they like you, you tell them the truth. Although, don’t get me wrong, you probably still hate yourself pretty much 78% of the time, but it’s definitely not as bad as those teen years. Ugh, weren’t they the worst?


I actually don’t want to limit freedom to just being 24/in your twenties. Being free is certainly a lot easier in your twenties, but you have to be free whatever your age. You should always be able to change your mind. Don’t like a job you’ve been doing for 20 years? GET OUT. Don’t want to be married anymore? GET OUT. Had enough of being a parent? Sorry, that one you’re stuck with.

You’re the perfect mix of kid/adult

YOU HAVE THE BEST OF BOTH WORLDS. You don’t have to do what your parents say anymore, but you can still ask them for help.  It’s acceptable to stay in and watch Masterchef every night, but it’s acceptable to go out and get drunk. If you can’t remember the last time you had a home-cooked meal or changed your bed sheets or got 8 hours sleep, people still treat you like an adult! It’s jammy, jammy, jammy.


My dad calls my boyfriend and I “TINKs”. Two incomes, no kids. It’s good, isn’t it? While we both have jobs, neither of us have any responsibilities. I mean, we probably should start saving for the “future”, but it’s a lot more fun eating out, drinking, and going on holidays and things. And it’s not like we don’t have a savings account. We have one, we’re just always taking money out of it. Because we can.

I think there are more good things about being in your twenties, but since I’m in my twenties, I drank a lot over the weekend and I’m sort of dying a little and I really want a crisp sandwich and a Pixar film. Yeah, I’m just going to just end this blog here.


Some Dialogue Since I’ve Been Home

Some Dialogue Since I’ve Been Home

Dad: I need to figure out what to do with your grandad.

Me: What do you mean?

Dad: Well, he’s just sitting through in the office.

Me: His ashes?

Dad: Mmm.

Me: Why don’t you scatter them in the sea? He loved the sea.

Dad: Well, I promised him I’d put bury his ashes next to Grandma’s but I promised her I wouldn’t put his ashes anywhere near her.

Me: Oh.


Me: Get your feet off the table!

Brother: What? They’re clean. Smell them.

Me: No! You’ve been walking on the floor all morning.

Brother: Fine, I’ll put on my shoes.


Dad: People keep wishing me a happy 70th birthday. How can I possibly have a happy 70th birthday? It’s a contradiction in terms, isn’t it?


Dad: So Norm, I was thinking I’d make you macaroni and cheese tonight. We’re going to have beef.

Brother: I don’t eat cheese. I’m vegan now.

Dad: Oh for fuck’s sake.


Brother: I go swimming now.

Me: I’ve joined a gym!

Brother: Jesus, I couldn’t join a gym.

Me: Going swimming is practically going to a gym.

Brother: I prefer cycling.

Me: I cycle AND go to the gym.

Dad: I turn over onto my other side to avoid bed sores.


Dad: I’ll never be as smart as I was when I was 18.

Dad (to me): You were never smart when you were 18.

Me: I know, I was just thinking that.

Sister: You were nice though.


Dad: What are you, Fraser?

Boyfriend: My star sign?

Me: He’s an Aries.

Sister: Oh, fire!

Me: His midheaven is all air though.


Me: Dad, what is that?

Dad: What do you think it is?

Me: Grass?

Dad: Parsley.

Me: No, Dad. Seriously, what is it? Is it grass?

Dad: Yes.

Me: Is grass and weed the same thing?

Whole family: Of course it is.

The 12 Stages Of Writing A Novel

The 12 Stages Of Writing A Novel



The “Hehe” Stage

Ah. Just beginning your novel. Writing that first paragraph and feeling very giggly that you’re actually giving your novel a go. You’re also a little giggly because you’re not taking it very seriously. You know that this is probably just another one of your lame projects that you’re going to give up as soon as you’ve started.

The “Ooh” Stage

This is the bit where you find that you haven’t given up yet. You’re actually enjoying the whole writing a novel thing. You get up early so you can write before work. You’re having fun and, for some unknown reason, you keep going back to it. You keep thinking, “Ooh, I didn’t think this was going to happen.” “Ooh, I’m still doing this”. “Ooh”.

The Dissertation Stage

The bit where you’e written as many words as you had in your dissertation. It’s not that impressive because your dissertation didn’t have that many words but still. You HAD to write your dissertation. You didn’t HAVE to write this novel. It’s pretty cool.

The “Fuck, I’ve Written Over 20 000 Words Stage”

This is more than your dissertation and your novel is actually beginning to take shape. You know what you want it to be. When people ask you how many words you’ve written, you tell them, and they don’t know what it means. They don’t know what 20 000 words looks like. You don’t either. You just see it on your computer but you have no idea what it looks like in an actual book. You laugh because it’s probably only a chapter.

The “Oh My God I’m Having So Much Fun” Stage

You can’t quite believe that you STILL haven’t given up yet. This is the biggest thing you’ve ever done and you love it and you’re proud of yourself for still doing it. You look forward to writing it. You take notes about what you want to write when you’re away from it. You wake up in the middle of the night knowing EXACTLY what should happen next. You write it down on your phone. It makes no sense in the morning, but it doesn’t matter. You carry on anyway.

The “Shit. Should This Be A Real Thing Stage?”

You’ve written a lot now. It really is turning into an actual novel and you start thinking about getting it published, making it real.

The “LOL What Am I Thinking Stage?”

You start reading bits of your novel and you imagine someone else reading it. You suddenly hate it. Everything you’ve written is stupid, boring, and unoriginal. Everyone has said what you’ve said before. You’re doing nothing new or interesting. You’re never going to get published.

The Forgetting About It Stage

You stop. You don’t write. And you don’t write for a really long time. It bugs you. This unfinished novel is aways in the back of your mind but you can’t get back to it. It’s rubbish and there’s nothing you can do to make it better.

The Going Back To It Stage

You’re bored one day so you open your novel. You skim through it. You have a new perspective because you’ve been away from it for a little while. It’s not as bad as you thought it was. Sometimes you like what you’re saying. Sometimes you think that there hasn’t been a story like yours before. You tentatively start to type.

The Committing Stage

You know now that no matter what, you’re going to finish this novel. You’re marrying it. You’re saying your vows. You know it’s not going to be easy but you don’t want to give up.  You keep telling yourself you’ll get drunk when you finish it.

The Rollercoaster Stage

Like all commitments, it isn’t easy. You have your good days. You LOVE writing and it makes you happy. You couldn’t live without it. Your novel’s always open on your laptop. Always there for you to dive back into – which you do, regularly. But then there’s the bad days. Your character is too one-dimensional, the narrative doesn’t make any sense, your grammar is all over the place, there’s only one perspective. Who wants to read a novel that just has one opinion? NO ONE. But still you carry on. You’re in it for the long run.

The Coming To The End Stage

You have as many words in your novel as other novels have. How the fuck did that happen? You know exactly how you want it to end but you’re scared to write it. Because once you write it, you’ll have to read it – and it might be crap. You know there is a lot of rubbish in it. You know that once you finish it, you’re going to have to go back and edit, edit, edit, and edit again and again and again. And that’s only if it’s worth all the edits. It might not be. It’s a well known fact that first novels are often terrible. You might have to scrap it and start again. You’re still going to finish it though.

So as I’ve actually not finished my novel, this is the stage I’m at. Better get back to it, I suppose.



101 Thoughts I Have Sometimes

101 Thoughts I Have Sometimes

  1. Am I bad feminist?
  2. Are they stretch marks or is it heat rash?
  3. I should really shave my legs.
  4. I’m horny.
  5. I’m not horny.
  6. Why do I feel so anxious?
  7. What did they mean when they said that?
  8. I’m going to be fired.
  9. I can’t wait to take my bra off.
  10. I’ll just snooze for five more minutes.
  11. They are so annoying.
  12. Please don’t sit next to me.
  13. I can’t believe they sat next to me.
  14. I just want to get drunk.
  15. I’m going on a diet and I’m joining a gym.
  16. Did someone say crisps?
  17. I’m hungry. I’m hungry, I’m hungry, I’m hungry.
  18. This day is dragging.
  19. This day is going too quickly.
  20. Is is too early to have a glass of wine?
  21. I think my friends hate me.
  22. I should really get out more.
  24. Does Kate Middleton poop?
  25. My resting face is HIDEOUS.
  26. I don’t know what I’ll do when Emma Thompson dies.
  27. What actually is deja vu?
  28. Has missing that bus just changed the entire course of my life?
  29. Gwyneth Paltrow suits short hair.
  30. Is that my feet that smell?
  31. I’m not going to have any seconds.
  32. Okay, I’ll have seconds but I’m not going to have any thirds.
  33. It’s not a third if I’m literally eating one chip and a tiny piece of chicken.
  34. I’m so full. I’m never eating again.
  35. How are they so smart?
  36. She is so beautiful.
  37. Her eye liner is PERFECTION.
  38. I’m going to watch an eye liner tutorial when I get home.
  39. She is so skinny.
  40. I’ll just read to the end of this chapter.
  42. Will I ever finish my novel?
  43. Is there any point finishing it if it’s total crap?
  44. Whatever happens, I’m getting drunk when I finish it.
  45. I can’t believe I’m getting turned on by watching someone type.
  46. It can’t be natural for two people to spend the rest of their lives together, can it?
  47. I wonder what a G spot orgasm feels like.
  48. Maybe I should get a G spot vibrator.
  49. Are G spot orgasms the same as vaginal orgasms?
  50. Is it true that it becomes easier to have one of these the older you get?
  51. That’s something to look forward to.
  52. I am way out of my depth here.
  53. Does anyone know that I’m a total imposter?
  54. I miss the country.
  55. I hate people.
  56. I just want to lock myself away for a whole month and not speak to anyone.
  57. Apart from my boyfriend. He can stay.
  59. Why can’t everyone just get along?
  60. The news is so depressing.
  61. I HATE Donald Trump.
  62. Does his wife really have to have sex with him?
  63. Ew.
  64. I’m going to go to Lakeland at the weekend and buy grown up kitchen things.
  65. I want a baby.
  66. I wonder what my children will look like.
  67. Will I actually be able to raise humans?
  68. All Dad wanted for his children was to be thick and happy.
  69. That’s actually a good aspiration.
  70. Where even is Dad? Canada? Spain?
  71. I wonder what retirement is like.
  72. I hope I do something good with my life.
  73. Does anyone die without any regrets?
  74. Life is really weird.
  76. Why is cheese so damn TASTY?
  77. I love my bike.
  78. The words I am saying right now don’t make any sense put together.
  79. Shut up, shut up, shut up.
  80. Ooh a Buzzfeed Disney princess quiz!
  81. Politics are really hard to understand.
  82. I don’t understand money.
  83. How can we trust what anyone says?
  84. I’m so stupid.
  85. I need to improve my vocabulary.
  86. Aardvark. An African ant-eating mammal.
  87. Sometimes I wish I smoked.
  88. My cheek bones have no definition.
  89. Why am I imagining having sex with this person who I’m not even attracted to?
  90. What would it be like to put my foot on the accelerator and not take it off?
  91. I really hope I don’t drop this baby.
  92. I don’t ever want to go to a mental institution.
  93. What if I totally thought I was sane, but I was actually crazy?
  94. OR what if I was sane, but everyone was trying to convince me I was crazy?
  95. What even is “normal”?
  96. I wish I could be invisible.
  97. I don’t think I’d like to be telepathic. That could be dangerous.
  98. It would be so easy to steal this eye liner.
  99. I love rain.
  100. I don’t want that person to die.
  101. Mmm…butter.