I don’t know what else to say, really. I am so sorry that your future has, effectively, just been ruined. Everything we have worked for in the past thirty years towards your future has been destroyed by a pencil mark on a piece of paper. I went to sleep at 2am proud to be
like really hurts. All the time. And I just felt I should explain as it means I can’t think. Can’t think to put words onto here. For a few months now I have been suffering with up to 18 headaches a day. Think ice cream brain freeze and you are pretty close. Not
If you asked me right now which way I am voting the answer would be leave. As in I want to leave the UK right now and come back on June 24th when it is all over. You can’t move for column inches in the press and for live debates on the TV.
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