Tag Archives: Love
I’m struggling to find time to upload my daily Life I Love blog at the moment. I’m still making sure I take note of all the things that make me smile, but the small matter of having, erm, FIFTY THOUSAND WORDS TO WRITE IN SIX WEEKS, plus a fuck-load of quite serious plot wrangling, is impeding my ability to share such moments with you. Sorry. So, in the interim, I have decided to introduce you (or re-introduce the die-hards amongst you) to my early blogs from Argentina. I lived there for a year starting June 2010 and had the very … Continue reading
I have been shit at Father’s Day for a long time. (Forever.) Because it’s a made-up thing I decided years ago that I would not celebrate it and my Dad has never seemed to mind very much. On Sunday, Facebook was covered in photos of peoples’ Dads. I laughed: ho ho ho, my Dad would hate to have me rabbiting on about him on social media. Ho ho ho, look how we rise about this commercial nonsense! And then I saw a post by a friend of mine who lost her Dad to cancer ten years ago – I remember … Continue reading
Last night, 11pm. We are lying in bed. Without warning, The Man sits up and exclaims ‘FROTTAGE CHEESE!’ and then dies laughing. This bore no relation to anything we were doing in bed, by the way. It’s just The Man. He is an adorable wazzock, he really is.
There isn’t much to say about this, beyond the fact that I was stomping gaily along the road yesterday when my eye was caught by a postbox. Without knowing why, I stopped and stared at it, and thought, ‘I love you. I love that in an age when we can even make babies over the Internet you are still here, dumpy, stumpy and defiant. I love your squat flaky redness and your persistent refusal to increase the size of your letter slot. Thank you for being here, you stubborn piece of British design.’ I took a photo of him, gave … Continue reading
My feelings of inappropriate lust for my Spanish tutor have reached unmanageable proportions: I think it might be time for us to part company. During our lesson this morning, as he presented me with me a cup of tea (he even served it with a little dish in which I could rest my teaspoon! I LOVE HIM) he said “You smile a lot in these lessons, no? I smiled very hard indeed. “It is because you are such a brilliant tutor, of course,” I replied in a moronic fashion, wishing I had not drunk so much Malbec the night before. … Continue reading