With all that is going on in the world, I am astounded and more than a little sad, that what passes as news is The Duchess of Cambridge's 'new' hairstyle and 'new look'.  I understand that people want a bit of lightness when there is so much shit going on, but really, this is seriously lazy and sychophantic journalism.  If you passed someone on the street looking like this, you may well think that they looked frumpy, but hey, this is royalty and it won't be the first or the last time that the press suck up, to Kate or other famous people and for Christ's sake, if you're going to write this sort of article, get your facts right.  They describe her 'new look' as 'hippy chic' and 'the look of Charlie's Angels' when neither one look has anything to do with the other and by the way, the 'new hairstyle'.  It's just a few dodgy layers.

One-and-a-half years ago, I moved into my current house.  The space felt wrong, right from the very first viewing.  The bones were wrong.  And I'm all about the bones!  It was the right location and the price was too good to pass up.  I would get used to it.  As anyone close to me can confirm, I haven't!  The rooms are too big and the windows are massive, the two things I dislike and the shape is all wrong.  I can't settle.  Before I am accused of being ungrateful, I do actually want less, not more.  I am constantly trying to make it feel smaller.  Pulling furniture into the middle of the room.  Constantly trying to cosy it up.  My parents bought the house where I did the majority of my growing up, out of desperation because the school year was starting and we needed somewhere to live.  My mum said that they only intended to stay a year, whilst they looked for something nearer to what they wanted.  They stayed for 35 years.  It was a home full of love but my mum was constantly re-decorating.  Putting paper up, taking it down, changing colour schemes, moving furniture around.  My dad used to joke that there was no point in putting equipment away because they would be re-deorating the following year!  Am I destined to repeat  my mothers life?  Was she constantly changing things because it just never felt right?  Were the bones just too wrong?

Shopping in town today and completely aghast at the amount of truly badly applied make-up on women on cosmetics counters.  Saved by the girl on the Clinique counter who was gifted in the art of looking like she was wearing none.  We both agreed that considering they were meant to be selling their products, they should surely know what to do with them.  Don't the big cheeses come down to check on them?

Journalist:          How many husbands have you had?
Zsa Zsa Gabor:  Other than my own?

I absolutely love this!

Why do couples do the supermarket shop together?  Take it in turns, come to some agreement or please do something to put us out of our misery.  I lost count of the amount of couples I saw in Sainsburys today who were barely managing to control their anger towards each other.  Admittedly amusing, but, oh wait, it wasn't towards each other, it was the women towards the men.  Girls, why are you dragging your blokes in?  Do it yourself or send him in with a list.  I saw countless women gritting their teeth and angrily starting every sentence directed at their partners with 'darling'. When seething, why do women start sentences with this term of endearment when what they are really thinking is 'you steaming piece of shit'?!

Why is it that when men look after their children for the night, many will often say 'I'm babysitting'.  No you are not love, you are looking after your kids.  I am trying to think of a single situation where I have ever heard a woman use this phrase.  Another gem.  'I loaded the dishwasher for you'.  Oh yes, because I have sole rights of the crockery.  Actually, I don't own a dishwasher but you get my drift.  I suppose, we are just as guilty of saying things like 'we need to put the rubbish out' when we clearly mean 'you'.  Oh sorry.  We both do that!

It really annoys me when people bang on about 'soft' A level subjects.  If you want to be an Illustrator, you are going to take Art as an A level are you not?  Just like if you have the calling to be a Doctor, would you seriously be taking Home Economics (I have no idea what name this subject is currently known as, hell, my school called it Domestic Science!).  You choose the A levels relevant to the path you want to follow, even if you are not clear what that yet is.  If you have a scientific or mathematical mind, you are unlikely to pick Photography and Textiles and if you have always been artistic, you are unlikely to pick the 3 sciences.  It is so ridiculously obvious, I can't believe it continuously comes up in conversation. 

We are living in a toxic food environment.  Never have we been under so much pressure to be thin at that same time as being enouraged to eat at every angle.  Cookery programmes, billboard posters, TV and magazine adverts and just about anything you want to eat, readily available at supermarkets.  I suspect that the divide between the amount of people in the world who have an abundance to eat and those who are starving, tragically, has never been greater.

Left the house thinking I didn't look too bad.  5 minutes later.  Sat in front of a mirror at the hairdressers startled by my appearance.  Looking every one of my hard earned 50 years and soooo tired.  Is it possible that hairdressers use a particular kind of lighting in their shops which might be to say the least, a little unflattering?  Aim being, you end up thinking 'shit, I look like a troll, do something to make me look human'.  Equals 'please take the maximum amount of my money!'.

I come across people in my everyday life, doing certain kinds of jobs who have such a lovely and cheerful demeanor.  The staff in my local Wimpy, supermarket and ethnic grocers are just a few that come to mind.  Happy, chatty, sociable, friendly and probably on minimum wage.  Then there are the others. People in much higher paid jobs who are such complete grouches.  In particular, the ones where they are in contact with the public, I am always left thinking, you clearly don't like people, why on earth do a job where you have to deal with them? 

The current crop of interior mags are all about Christmas.  Obviously.  I love Christmas but ugh!  A selection of wonderful quotes.  'Our Christmas countdown for the family begins on the first of December when the children get out felt-tip pens and paper and write letters to Father Christmas at the breakfast table.'  Mine begins with 'Lord, Christmas shopping and I can't think of an original gift to buy all these people'.  'To make sure your table looks beautiful on Christmas Day, do a trial run a week or two before to ensure you haven't forgotten anything!'.  They have got to be kidding.  Surely nobody with a fully functioning brain actually does anything so inane?  'We often have pheasant, which has been shot by my dad/husband/gamekeeper', whatever.  Why can't they, just occasionally, feature a family, where the woman of the house is thinking how on earth is she going to afford Christmas and how much the turkey might be in Lidl?  'The children leave a glass of muscat for Santa'.  What the fuck is wrong with sherry?!  And while I am in 'full moaning mood', why are these mags always going on about the family sitting around 'a scrubbed pine table'?  I want to scream!  'Two weeks before Christmas, I climb into the loft and get down the decorations while my husband bakes cakes with the children with choral music playing in the background'.  I'm not saying that things like this never happen in real homes, but please.  My memories of Christmas of old, are of my father battling with 4 trails of tangled fairy lights as well as trying to figure out which bulbs were defective, spectacles hanging off  his nose, screwdriver in hand, calling out to my mother for much needed assistance.  It was bloody brilliant!

We are constantly being told to eat only when we are hungry and stop when we are full.  Sound advice.  Does anyone actually eat like this?  I would love to talk to them.  Food is fuel but it is also so much more.  It is love, it is nurturing, it is feasting and it is celebrating.  We eat for a variety of reasons and sometimes we eat just because something tastes too damned good to pass by!  It may not be right but it is reality and maybe we should just cut ourselves a little slack.

Today was a day of acceptance.  That I am seriously missing the ability to drive on a big road gene.  I set myself a test.  I would  not let fear get the better of me.  I was going to drive to a certain Swedish store, surely no more than 15 minutes away.  I was going to have to navigate underpasses and overpasses.  Yep, today was the day I was going to do it.  3 wrong turnings later and fighting a severe case of panic, I was officially lost.  Did I mention that I was lost and in Redbridge?  This morning, I had never even heard of it.  I rang the husband and told him I was leaving my car and getting the tube home.  Seriously not impressed!  The AA refused to come to my rescue, saying it was not an emergency.  If one lost, distressed, slightly hysterical female doesn't constitute an emergency, I would like to know what does.  Some poor random bloke attempted to give me directions.  By this stage, my brain had turned to complete mush from the stress of it all and I had lost the ability to comprehend.  I managed to stop myself from doing what I really wanted to do.  Throw myself at his feet and beg him to drive to my destination and allow me to follow him.  Long story short.  I made it back home.  Guys, this is not only a sign, it's a flippin' huge one!

When you think of all the things in today's society of 'health and safety' and the 'nanny state' that we are prevented from participating in, playing conkers is the first thing that comes to mind, it makes some of the things we are still allowed to do, astounding.  Fireworks.  I can't believe that the public are still allowed to buy them.  The annoyance of them going off 1 week either side of Bonfire Night aside, how many more accidents have to happen?  Is it a case of it being ok because you have to be over 18 to purchase them.  Oh yes, us adults, we are born with an instinctive ability to know how to safely handle fireworks.  A vivid memory of some friends in their early twenties over from Greece, participating in the festivities, thinking the way to handle a rocket, was to hold it, light it, then wait.  I kid you not!  Rugby.  Why is this sport still allowed in schools.  I know one can argue that it is a controlled sport but so is cage fighting and boxing and we wouldn't be particularly happy about those being introduced into the national curriculum.  And to those who say that children playing rough sports is character building, I'm quite happy with childrens characters already, thank you very much.

Part 2 of  'things in our lives where we have way too much choice'.  Fabric softeners.  Way back in the 70s, there was one fragrance available.  Wanna know what it was called?  The blue one.  It didn't need a name, seeing as there was only one, it was completely unnecessary.  It was great.  No more static, no more rough clothes and towels, just lovely softness!  What was wrong with just keeping things simple?  Did someone at a certain company think 'things are way too simple and that just won't do'?  Do you know how many fragrances Lenor now produce?  19.  Did you hear me?  19.  Comfort offers 12.  Let's not start with the others because, quite frankly, 31 is 30 softeners too many.  Once again, might there be a conspiracy where if we are kept busy with stupid choices in life, we have less time to make serious changes?  Just a thought.

Is it just a bit bizarre that when there are so many things in life that we can choose, where we live, what colour we want our hair to be, what field we want to work in, what we wear, our make-up, who to hook up with, where to go on a night out, we are pretty much stuck with the name we are given at birth?  We can choose to change it, not sure how, but really, how many people do you know that actually bother?  Mostly, we grow into our first names but the surnames.  Ugh!  Stuck with something awful, feeling guilty that by changing it you are insulting your parents, who by the way, no more chose theirs than you did yours.  Or if you have taken the name of a partner, cos that's what people did, you are insulting them and again I stress, they didn't choose theirs either.  Again.  Ugh!  With all the shit going on in the world, this is what people have to get upset about?  And to those who say, but it's your heritage, your identity.  Let me tell you, who and what we are is made up of so much more than our names.

Let's get onto my favourite topic.  Stuff.  Why does it drive me mad?  Why do I want so much less of it than most people?  I'm constantly de-cluttering.  Weeding stuff out.  Yet it returns.  In a different form.  I'm not a minimalist but I'm constantly asking, can I do without it?  Various theories.  In a previous life, I was either a gypsy, constantly on the move, so, unable to own too much or I was a refugee and this is the bizarre bit.  I deep down always feel that I am going to need to flee at a moments notice and therefore need to know where everything is and not have too much of it.  Just short of always having one foot out the door.  Possibly, I am sub-consciously striving towards leaving this life as I arrived, with no physical possessions and no, I haven't studied any Eastern philosophies.  Yes, I am aware that now that I have written it, it sounds bloody weird but hey, it's who I am!

Women, pause for a moment and think.  What are we doing to our faces?  We all want to look good, but it is time to put down the scalpels, the injectables and the fillers and stop mutilating ourselves.  We don't look young, we don't look fresh, we just look weird.  At what point, did it become a crime to still be alive?  Some celebrities have an insane amount of work done and then give an interview to announce that they are going to have no more surgery.  My question is why has it taken so long to finally realise that the image in the mirror is looking beyond human?  None of us want to look haggard but ageing doesn't have to be this.  I think there is a certain softness to the face as it gets older.  There could of course be another reason for this.  As time passes, my eyesight is worsening to the point that when I look in the mirror, I feel as if  I have been shot in soft focus.  If I am mistaken, apologies to all if I am actually walking around looking like a gargoyle!

Behead the evil witch that is perfectionism.

Why are the majority of interior magazines, so achingly middle class?  Perfect houses in idyllic areas, housing perfect couples with amazing careers with 2-3 perfect children. Extending double the size of the existing house because there just isn't enough space.  A bathroom per person and that includes per child.  Does a toddler really need their own bathroom?  The photos that always make me want to pull my hair out are the ones where the children are quietly reading or playing their instruments in their tidy bedrooms, with absolutely no sign of plastic toys or messily hung up posters or clothes or toys strewn all over the place. Questions I would like answered.  Where are they housing the giant flat screens, the console games and the gargantuan amount of wires and chargers that have taken over everyones lives?  Just once in a while, it would be refreshing if we saw a family in a rougher area where the parents work as a driver (and I don't mean a chauffeur) and a dinner lady (I know they are no longer called that but hey, I am of the era when they were) because they want to provide for their kids.  Little money doesn't mean a life of Jeremy Kyle and it certainly doesn't mean no style.  Just because they do not have a ridiculous amount of money to spend on a coffee table, doesn't mean they are incapable of vision, are not creative or don't care about their surroundings.  It particularly doesn't mean that we are less interested in seeing how they put things together compared to people with more money.

OK.  Safe to say, I have now seen it all.  A girl in her early 20s, walking down my residential street, talking really loudly, into, something.  I'm guessing, into a mobile. I hope to god it was a mobile!  Hate to think she was yelling into thin air.  Except I couldn't see it.  Where was it?  Semi-kidding.  I do have some idea of technology, albeit, minimal.  No sign of any insanity.  I know that this is nothing new, but really.  Are we all now so freaking busy that we can't sit down to talk to people?  Is privacy now, completely a thing of the past and more importantly, I am really not that inquisitive that I now need or want to hear everyones conversations.

Another week, another round of celebrity weddings.   But.  Aint there always a but?!  Why so big?  Why a 10 page magazine spread?  I guess, yes, we all want to see the brides dress but a single photo issued by the couple would have sufficed.  Isn't that what Jennifer Aniston and Brad Pitt did?  There is something however, worse than the endless photos.  The accompanying interview!  Groan.  Even the odd few who 'sneak off' to do the deed, still feel the need to issue photos.  I have trouble with the ostentatiousness of it all.  Look up the following weddings on Google images: Lauren Bacall, Marylin Monroe, Audrey Hepburn, Lynda McCartney and Celia Birtwell.  Now that my friends, is what I call 'style'.

My mother was intelligent, independent, socially and physically active, didnt smoke, rarely drank, ate healthily, was slim her entire life, fitted no high risk groups, yet still succumbed to Alzheimers in her late 60s.  Every time I come across a 'new' piece of evidence that tells us something is protective against this disease, I want to scream 'but my mum did that'.  David Attenborough said 'plenty of people at 86 are in wheelchairs or have lost their marbles, it isn't virtue or eating cod liver oil, it's just luck'.  Yes, by living healthy lives, we reduce our risk of contracting a whole manner of illnesses, but it's time we accepted, some things are just bad luck.  There's alot we cannot control and we need to stop thinking it's something we did or didn't do and stop beating ourselves up.

Today, let us talk spaces.  What is wrong with me?  Why is it that when everyone is trying to create more space, I am trying to create less?  While everyone is building upwards and outwards, I am pulling and grouping my furniture into the middle of the room to make it feel smaller.  Am I trying to recreate the safety and security of the womb, which was after all, the first place I lived?  I feel burdened by too much space.  Have we in the West, become greedy for space and why do we crave so much of it?  Have we become so accustomed to having our 'personal space', that to go back to living in less of it, we fear we will also be forced to spend more time together?  It's just a question.  Or many!