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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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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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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It was Virginia Wolf who said that a woman must have a room of her own if she is to write fiction.  Virginia’s statement was a Feminist one, mine, to be honest, is more practical.  I have found that I need my own personal space, a room of my own so to speak, to truly relax and to indulge in a bit of blog writing. I have been quiet on the blog front recently.  This wasn’t an intentional blogging holiday,…

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Motherhood changed me. I am not the first mother to have said that. But motherhood changed me in ways that I could never have predicted. As a mother, I am now acutely conscious of the world that Cygnet is growing up in. I worry about climate change and the environment. I worry about nuclear war. I worry, but my worrying will not help anyone or anything. I now feel I have a personal responsibility to make the world a better…

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I have small breasts.  My chest is never going to get me a free drink, or out of a parking ticket.   Men talk to my face, because, let’s be honest, there’s little point them looking anywhere else.  As Nora Ephron once wrote in her 1972 essay “A Few Words About Breasts”  “If I had them, I would have been a completely different person”.  If I had breasts, I’d be less concerned about the wrinkles appearing on my face, the…

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I have been trying to get my head around the Charlie Gard case.  I have been trying not to criticise, because I haven’t been through what Connie Yates and Chris Gard have been through.  I don’t know, I can’t know, how I would feel, and as a result how I would react, were I in Connie Yates and Chris Gard’s shoes. For anyone who has been living under a stone without any contact with the international news or social media…

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I never really kept a diary when I was growing up.  I always used to have a notebook on the go but, looking back through them now, there is only the occasional diary entry.  There is a diary entry about how I felt when I kissed a girl in a nightclub as a student in France (tingly, excited and a little bit scared).  There is also an entry about how I felt bullied by my ex’s sister nearly a decade…

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