I have a confession to make, although it probably won’t come as much of a surprise if you’ve seen my Twitter: I’m not a fan of football. It’s not that I really actively dislike it, it just seems so pointless to me. And you know the worst bit? It’s after the game, when you have to
On Saturday morning Mr B was up and out of the house before 7.30am to avoid the laughter and noise of eight women around the kitchen table from 9am to play golf. When he returned just after lunch I found myself channeling my inner Lord Percy and imagining him as Blackadder: Except I
One word. Yep, golf. I have never had a desire to play golf. Ever. My parents play it. Regularly. My husband plays it. Not as regularly as he would like, admittedly. But one of his birthday presents last year was golf club membership so it is safe to say he enjoys playing. Daughter’s boyfriend plays.
I have been following quite closely the story of Jon Platt who has taken his case about a term time holiday fine to the High Court. I was delighted he won the case this week and that the High Court has stated he doesn’t have a case to answer. Magistrates on the Isle of
Not you. I am not talking about you. You are lovely. I mean you as in society. And the right to think we can say what we like to anybody and to invade their private space. Following the BAFTAs on Sunday night I have followed the systematic destruction of one of our finest
It is a few weeks now since I met up with Annie for a wander around Hinton Ampner, a National Trust house just outside Petersfield (in fact it is where we were when we stumbled upon Cheesefoot Head which I wrote about last month) . I hadn’t been to the house before but Annie knew
It hadn’t really struck me until recently how much I love music. Not playing it myself, I can’t play any musical instruments (a regret that I never learnt to play the piano. How cool to see one somewhere and just start an impromptu singalong?), but listening to music created by others. I have always known
is probably about right. If I started the London marathon now it would probably take me three years to do it. Not only because I would be stopping every ten seconds to photograph and instagram something but because, well, I am not Paula Radcliffe am I? Every year I decide to get up