Along with gin, I think of coffee and tea as mummy’s little helper.

Rough night? Either with small humans who want milk or to inform you that their toe nail has grown at 2.04 am or running down the list of top ten greatest moments you made a TOTAL and UTTER tit of yourself (always aids a restful night); No problemo, couple of cups of the good stuff and you are set.

Or so I thought. I started to wonder what exactly I was set for as I gurned away quietly grinding my teeth with my heart pumping at a zillion miles an hour, an all night rave? men’s Olympic 100 meter hurdles? Completing both wouldn’t have been an issue but when real genuine panic akin to losing one of my children set in over a misplaced left work shoe I decided that perhaps it was time for a re-think.

So dear readers, I went decaf. I braved the skull splitting, sight stealing headache and got through it. Yes I feel better for it, yes I am tired at times but it’s manageable, no it hasn’t revolutionised my life but I do sleep a little bit better and yes decaf does still have a trace of caffeine, thank god. 



I am fully expecting a huge round of applause at my body combat class this morning, despite the fact I know no one there.

I am finally wearing an entire ensemble of actual gym gear and not something cobbled together from Dorothy Perkins thirteen years ago and th’husbands wardrobe.

To be fair there is no excuse, all of the U.K.high street shops sell pretty decent reasonably priced sports wear now. I have heard H&M has good stuff.

I love the whole ‘sports luxe’ look. Alex Gerrard always looks super cool and practical trotting about in active leggings, co-ordinating tops and trainers but then she is Alex Gerrad, she’d make a Selfridges bin bag look decent.

Here I think I am  is Alex for a smidge of inspo.



Cheeky, is it a cute word to you? Do you envisage chubby little freckle dappled faces being quick witted? Or, do you just think little sods being wholly inappropriate to adults? 

We are having a problem with cheek at the moment and it’s a difficult one because personally, I think you need a bit of cheek about you as a person. You have to have the odd one line or quip that’ll make people laugh, lighten a mood, show you have some stuff going on in the grey matter, whatever age you are. I think a little bit of cheek and good manners will eventually turn into charm as you get older and if you have ever met anyone really properly charming, not only is it a nice experience for you but they are always the ones smiling in a halo of sunshine whilst the birds sing to them, metaphorically speaking.

On the opposite side of the mini charmings then sit the ones we all know and we’ve all met. The kids whose parents probably think they are a bit cheeky cute and laugh along with the offending cretin when everyone else is thinking ‘you hard faced little muppet’. 

We tread a fine line between cheeky charming and cheeky rude. Therein lines the key for me, it’s basically manners. It’s understanding that commenting negatively on someone’s quirky appearance is rude but acknowledging someome is different in a positive manner makes everyone feel ok. 

So I will continue to chastise where necessary but also, acknowledge in a small way, the cheeky charming because it will probably prove useful one day. 

Thank you 

As I write from my sick bed I’ve had such amazing feedback on the blog to date from loads of you, I have a lot of readers! and it’s been proper lovely to hear from people so a huge massive thank you. 

People have been asking and I know you can like and comment on here but there’s some sort of annoying log on so I will figure it out and let you know. 

I have Spring snots and throat of pure flames with added extra razor blade bits plus I feel a bit virally in that psychedelic way where window sills, bread and other everyday objects look slightly surreal and the ear worm on loop in my head at the moment is “Carah!..Carah!..Cara-Van! woohhooooaaahhhhhhhaahhhhhhh” to the tune of Coldplays “Paradise”. You are very welcome because you will be singing that all day now. 


Oh this is good. It’s an under eye concealer by Charlotte Tilbury, the mini miracle eye wand.

I walked past a sign that said ‘8 hours sleep in a stick’ or some such thing and I thought the last time I had eight hours sleep I was probably fifteen. As you can imagine, this has taken its toll. 

I sidled up to the nice lady girl and asked about said stick and I was promptly seated and treated. I accidentally did this in a well known skincare brand once and left 140 quid lighter wondering what the hell had happened. No such drama with this wand however. Moisturiser at one end, concealer at the other, both glide on and with a bit of a dab your eyes are transformed from the Emperor in Star Wars to Bambi. I may have used some artistic licence there but you get the picture.

My make up skills are not the best. I affectionately call it ‘slap’ for a reason; shove it on, bit of a rub and good to go is a must and this product delivers on that front too. It’s my Birthday soon so I shall be back at Ms Tilbury for round two. 



Struggle is real.



I like this jacket from Marks and Spencer. I know it’s not to everyone’s taste, th’husband muttered ‘Leprechaun’ but I like the green and the print, even though I own little of either.

The mid twenties are currently wearing embroidered bombers and so is Mary Berry. Problem is I haven’t seen anyone in my bracket with one on. This makes me nervous  because then, I either look like I am trying desperately to be in my mid twenties or  I look like Mary Berry. Let’s just be clear on Mary, the woman is outstanding and if I was half the person she is I’d be doing ok. Alas,  I am not so the bomber is on hold.


Easter is upon us! Spring is here! Usually signified in our neck of the woods by torrential rain, possibly some snow and snot, a lot of snot.

The days are getting brighter and lighter and I will say, begrudgingly, warmer. My house looks grubby when the sun shines on the windows and I think about spring cleaning but never seem to get too carried away with it, thank god.

Easter then and cries from the lovely children to make, paint, sew, stick, draw and glue mostly eggs but anything else they can get their grubby little mitts on. Oh what fun. Fun, that is, if you have any capability in that area and I, really really really do not.

My list of craft fails is long and distinguished, the post labelled ‘Weekend’ will give you a clue. Last years Christmas gingerbread house should also make the list; abandoned by the daughter half way through the boy and I scoffed on with materials I know for a fact Barrett would have struggled to construct.

Epic mum fail on the craft front then. So to all those mums out there who feel my pain, with glue in their hair and glitter in their nostrils, here is a picture of Tom Hardy to cheer us all up.


I am addicted to gel nail varnish, ever since the lady at the check out in Lidl, land of the fabulous prosecco, mentioned she had ‘man hands’ because her nails weren’t done. I thought about ‘man hands’ for a long time after that.

It’s so easy though isn’t it and it lasts forever, forevvvvver.

Which comes at a massive price because it wrecks your own poor nails like nothing else. All the chemicals involved in said procedure must mean that very soon, instead of man hands I will have 100 year old gran hands.

I am trying to limit myself and have at least three weeks off in between and friends have recommended other products that give the same effect and longevity but used in conjunction with normal varnish. I will investigate.

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