I can finally feel the joy of being a single parent. Becoming a single parent when my son was five months old felt like trekking off alone into the dark wilderness where the wind was biting and howling and I had this precious little baby to protect and to shelter.  I didn’t know whether I could do it.  None of my friends were single parents.  Not all of them were married but all were happily coupled.  On my single parent…

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I’ve been renovating my flat and am super excited about some brightly coloured rubber floor tiles that I have just laid.  Those of you who have been reading this blog for a while will know that I bought my flat from an 86 year old lady nearly two and half years ago.  She moved down to Devon and my son and I moved in.  Unfortunately for all of us when she moved out she couldn’t take her beloved kitchen with…

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I make no bones of the fact that sometimes I would quite like to have a boyfriend. Only sometimes though!  Secret single behaviours are those weird things that people do when they are alone, away from the prying eyes of the public and away from the ears of those who may condemn or criticise. My secret single behaviours include sitting on my own on the sofa eating dark Lindt chocolate and drinking wine in the evening.  I am not sure…

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Every woman has a story, and mine involves a man in a very short pair of running shorts who revealed his penis as he nudged his way past me. #metoo Every woman has a story, and mine involves a stranger in a crowd in Barcelona who shoved his hand down the back of my jeans and tried to insert his finger into my vagina. #metoo Every woman has a story, and mine involves a male work colleague, not a manager…

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Today CBeebies did most of the parenting.  Tonight will be white wine and self-loathing served in front of some inane rubbish on the TV – Made in Chelsea should do the trick.  It’s okay to be a crap parent sometimes.  Tomorrow will be a better day.  This is not how parenting is supposed to go.  Super-Nanny would have condemned me for finally giving into the tantrum and for buying The Octonauts magazine.  I condemn myself for my inconsistency.  If I…

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Our co-parenting relationship is currently on an even keel.  My ex is sticking to the schedule.  The constant requests to change plans have abated.  The barrage of angry emails and text messages has finished.  Our handovers are amicable and efficient.  We will never be best friends, but we are able to present a united and respectful front when Cygnet is around.  It has taken a long time to get here.  These are my tips for communicating with an ex when…

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My phone vibrates in my pocket.  It’s a notification from Bumble, the Tinder-style dating app where women message first, “you have a new connection”.  The dopamine hit lasts a mere millisecond.  I am not the first to talk about Tamagotchi dating.  Internet dating is like trying to keep a Tamagotchi alive. I open up the match to find that Andrew* has three photos (of which two are clearly selfies) and has stated that he is 6’2” in his bio.  Nothing…

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This week I read about Eileen Carey, CEO and co-founder of Glass-breakers, a silicon Valley-based software company, who dyes her blonde hair brown so that her co-workers will take her more seriously.  By dying her hair brown, she found that she looked older and felt that she was less likely to be seen and characterised in a sexual way.  She stopped wearing high heals, stopped wearing contact lenses in favour of glasses and started wearing gender neutral clothing.  She found that her colleagues…

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It was a Tuesday evening at around 9pm when my anxiety took hold on the London Underground.  It had been a long day.  Cygnet was with his father and I had stayed late at work.  I sat down next to the window and stared into the distance. I got on the train at Leicester Square in central London. A man got on at the next stop.  He was lugging a heavy cello case.  He sat down opposite me and next…

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The last couple of weeks have definitely felt like autumn.  I have put away my summer dresses, my wedged shoes and I have given up on the bottle of St Tropez fake tan in favour of 70 denier black tights. I am also giving myself a pep talk.  The prospect of months of drizzle which will make my hair curl, grey skies, early darkness and cold shivery mornings leaves me feeling more than a bit blah. This year, Cygnet and…

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