Tag Archives: Christmas

Why I like a good hobby

 I look very weird in this photo. Facially. Never mind.

This time last year I wrote a blog for the Huffington Post about January being thumpingly shit. Not just because it’s cold and everyone’s fat but because more relationships end at this time of the year than any other. That’s like a proper statistical FACT. Thus January is a time of monumental pain for a lot of people. And worse still, the dumped and the dumping have to sit out their misery amid the excitable screams of those who’ve got engaged over Christmas. Ideal! So, as I said, thumpingly shit for some, great for others. But anyway, I was just … Continue reading

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2012: My Hitlist and Shitlist.

 Lucy Robinson 01 (2)

I recently did a talk at some trendy media event with the Huffington Post’s Editor-in-Chief Carla Buzasi. I said a few pointless things about nothing in particular and then she gave a brilliant and incisive run-down of what does and does not work in the blog world. (She has literally thousands of bloggers on her books. If she says something about blogging, it’s probably correct.) Anyway, she told the audience that it is not good enough to have a blog lapse and then post something lame about how you were ‘on holiday’ or ‘too busy.’ By then your readers will already … Continue reading

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Hippies one, medicine nil

Festive yule logs, friends! I trust you are all exhausted and fluey and hungover and fed up like everyone else? I’m actually quite well. But in fairness I’ve spent most of the year doubled up on the bog so a little bout of good health seems reasonable. Anyway . . . As Christmas draws near, I have had to face a fact that I can no longer ignore:  I am consumed with longing for a Mulberry handbag. I really really want a Mulberry handbag. If you have one, lock it up because otherwise I will steal it. I can’t tell you which … Continue reading

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Cheese and other matters

“I CANNOT TAKE ANOTHER MINUTE OF SEARCHING THIS F*CKING RUCKSACK FOR MY WALLET,” I fumed, as we stood in a South America-style queue at Bogota airport. (‘South America-style’ in that it was huge, it snaked off in several directions and anyone who looked to be over forty years of age shoved their wide, queue-jumping shoulders in front of us, stolidly ignoring our outraged British huffs and puffs.) The man didn’t reply to my outburst because he had passed out on the spot hugging his own rucksack. But he had a rage of his own soon after: “I CANNOT TAKE ANOTHER … Continue reading

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A Long Christmas Date

Well, The Man is here. And all seems to be well. Unfortunately, however, The Date has not yet happened. We started snogging as soon as we saw each other and then it all sort of went wrong. By last night he was washing his underpants in my sink with soap stolen from a hotel. I was nagging him to hurry up because we had to go and meet some friends of mine for dinner. Then I helped myself to a piece of fruit from the shopping we had DONE TOGETHER earlier (oh god) and belched without the slightest trace of self-consciousness. … Continue reading

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