Columnists
Opportunity Knocks
Keep your eyes peeled and don’t be afraid: not just in love and romance, but for everything in life. Opportunities have massive cojones and they liked to be grabbed.
Not All Publicity is Good Publicity
While I understand the pressure that journalists are under to deliver entertaining and topical stories, I am amazed at the ways that they will try and stretch the truth to another dimension altogether.
There’s Something About Serge
Gainsbourg: vie héroïque begins at the beginning but doesn’t end exactly at The End.
Good Hair vs Bad Hair – A Decade of Hairstyling
Since childhood, there is nothing I hate more then the moment a new hairdresser realises I have curly-ish hair and tries to convince me to wear my hair natural. My automatic reaction is – bitch you better get that diffuser away from my head or I am gonna cut you!
Confessions of a First-time Author
In publishing terms, it seems unfathomable that only twelve months ago I sat down and started writing my first manuscript – an autobiographical account of my time working in the City of London during the financial crisis.
2010: So Fresh And So Green
Not to say I’m perfect – far from it, in fact – nor is there no room for improvements where I’m concerned. But for me, the feeling of resolution and new beginnings has never really resonated with me around this time.
I’ve Fallen In Love With A Dead Man
A certain journalist had intended, for all intents and purposes, to compose a resolution-related entry. But then she fell in love, and you know how all hell breaks loose when one does that. She fell in love! With a dead man.
All You Need Is Love
My Christmas crapness begun at an early age. When I was eight years old, I completely failed to get my father a Christmas present that year. This wasn’t a precautious statement and nor was it a crash and burn situation. I simply forgot, even though I’d seen the man every day in the festive run [...]
I was a Parisian Waitress
When it came to uncorking wine she was, properly put; purely and positively proper. Last night’s cork ripping in half probably signified something, something significant, something tragic, something dark and ugly and bleak.
Die Leiden des jungen Berlinerin (The Sorrows of the Young Berliner)
There’s nothing I like more than eating myself into a diabetic coma, only to wake up the next morning in a sea of candy bar wrappers and a chocolate covered pillow, feeling as chipper as when you wake up next to some random guy the morning after a drunken one night stand.
