A-Z: Confessions

  • I always have to put my right sock on first. If I don’t I have to take my socks off and rub away the ‘sockness’ on the floor before starting again.
  • For a long time I thought that Mauritania was a fake place, like Outer Mongolia and Narnia. I hang my head in shame. I also work in business travel so I hang my head further.
  • I don’t understand how wifi works so I just explain it away by fairies fannying about sprinkling little wifis around the place.
  • I’m great at writing cards but rubbish at posting them. When I moved desks a few months ago I found Christmas cards from 2015 at the back of my drawer. I’m also the type of knob who writes ‘Merry Christmas and Happy New Year 2015′ so it’s not even like I can re-use them.
  • I buy Tatler. My friend Harold always winds me up about this and we once wrote our Tatler profiles – his was ‘Harold, 32, collects fine wine, enjoys rambling in the country with his rare breed dog Luna and has a love of Chomps.’ Mine was ‘Alice, 35, enjoys collecting antiquarian books and pieces of statement jewellery as well as playing parlour games on her weekends in the country.’
  • I love a good G&T, my favourite gin is called Barr Hill and is a small batch gin from the Northeast Kingdom of Vermont. This makes me sound like a total wanker but it’s delicious.
  • I call my Dad ‘Popsicle’ and my brother ‘Humphrey Big Bear’. His name isn’t Humphrey, and he’s not a bear, but it has stuck.
  • I keep buying books. It’s fatal if I wander off piste at the supermarket and I actively have to stop myself going to Waterstones. When I was in New England I came home with nine new books and narrowly avoided an excess baggage charge.
  • I’m an equal opportunity flirt. I’ll flirt with anyone and sometimes there is nothing better than a flirt with a cheeky old man. It makes their day!
  • I know I’m hitting a depression when I get sad looking at old people. I imagine them hungry and lonely huddling round a one bar fire and it’s a smack upside the head that I need to start looking after myself.
  • I used to hate the thought of being single, the stereotype of a ready meal for one and no social life. I’ve now realised that is total bollocks, being single means I’m not tied down. Hobo has a lovely cat sitter and I’m free as a bird. Well, one with bills to pay, a job to go to, and the neediest cat in the world.
  • I want to be someone people talk about long after I’m gone. Whether it’s good or bad, philanthropist or dictator, the thought of being forgotten upsets me.


(With thanks to ‘My Life: An autobiographical journal from adventures to zealous plots’ by Mr Boddington’s Studio)

A-Z: books too brilliant to put down

To give you an idea of where I’m coming from on this, everyone loved ‘One Day’ whereas I hated it so much I threw it at the wall when I’d finished. I own over 250 books and this is the only one that has provoked a physical reaction. I’ve never been able to get further than a couple of chapters through ‘Life of Pi’. Yes I know, you’re all going to rave about it but I just find it bloody dull. I’ve also never read a lot of the classics, no Tolkien; no Handmaid’s Tale; no To Kill A Mockingbird. They’ve just sort of passed me by. I have however read Alice In Wonderland and Through The Looking Glass more times than you can imagine. O frabjous day!

So moving on to those I love –

“Don’t believe what your eyes are telling you. All they show is limitation. Look with your understanding. Find out what you already know and you will see the way to fly.” Jonathan Livingston Seagull by Richard Bach

“I am not important. If I take a break, no one dies. And this is A Good Thing.” The Year of Living Danishly by Helen Russell

“He does something to me, that boy. Every time. It’s his only detriment. He steps on my heart. He makes me cry.” The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

“The best revenge, like the best sex, is performed slowly, and with the eyes open.” Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts

“Tom has a theory that homosexuals and single women in their thirties have natural bonding: both being accustomed to disappointing their parents and being treated as freaks by society.” Bridget Jones’s Diary by Helen Fielding

“It’s no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.” Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll


With thanks to ‘My Life: An autobiographical journal from Adventures to Zealous Plots’ by Mr Boddington’s Studio


A-Z: Beaus I Have Adored

There have been many boys who have caught my eye and made my heart flutter but up until now none have been worthy. It started as all good love stories do with a boy who lived down the road, nothing ever happened but I used to think I’d marry him one day. I once sent him an excruciatingly embarrassing love letter as a teenager and still feel all scrunchy inside when I remember it.

Then it was the boy next door with the chocolate brown eyes. We used to hang out quite a lot but only when none of his mates were around. He was very cool and part of the in-crowd which I never managed and was sweet to me, when we were alone. He wasn’t worth my time but was a good first kiss.

Then came the basketball boys, some crushed on from afar and one that I used to hop the fence with to play one on one at a local school. They made me feel cool and I spent most of one summer with my tongue down the throat of the fence hopper. Who told his mates he’d only kissed me as I promised to give him my Walkman… A) I’m showing my age and B) what a dickhead.

There was the total arse stain Freddy – so notable I’m using his real name. He was bloody gorgeous, much more experienced than me, and a real arsehole who was definitely not worthy of my first time. We were ‘in love’ (we weren’t), he was ‘the one’ (no, God no) and I was set on moving oop North to be with him (dodged a bullet there). One night he got drunk to the point of needing to be carried and tried to strangle me whilst saying vile things. I never spoke to him again, apart from when he text me asking if I thought my mate would shag him. It destroyed me because I’d let him in whilst being mired in grief having just lost Mum.

The kindest man I’ve known was next and my first ‘proper’ boyfriend. Although we lived three hours apart we saw each other all the time and I adored his family. We really tried to make it work but when he started uni and I was still doing A-Levels it all started to fall apart. I promise you I didn’t choose my university city based on where he was studying but I did have a glimmer of hope that being in the same postal city meant we’d get back together. We didn’t.

Since then it’s been a maelstrom of ridiculous crushes, mis-reading signals, and generally not being very good at love.

I’d just like a beau I could actually adore, instead of thinking I do and then realising he’s a bellend.


With thanks to ‘My Life: An autobiographical journal from Adventures to Zealous Plots’ by Mr Boddington’s Studio

A-Z: Advice To My 10 Year Old Self

Dear Weasel,

You’re in Mrs Anderson’s class and think she hates you but she doesn’t which you’ll find out later so for the moment you think she’s a giant pain in the arse. She will always count the scissors back in before you can go home and there will always be a pair missing. It’s normally Sam Holder.

You’re taller than everyone in the school and you hate it. Your boobs came in and you started your periods way too young and it’s making you feel like a freak. Everyone else WILL catch up but it’ll take a few years so for now, just ride it out.

Can you please try and stop being a wuss in P.E.? Alright, you’ve got no rhythm so hate dance, and you can’t even get your feet off the floor when it comes to rope climbing but can you at least give it a go? In a few years time you’ll start to enjoy playing hockey at school but your total lack of self-confidence will stop you from even attempting to join the school team I’m afraid.

Humph has hormones charging round his body and doesn’t mean to be gruesome. In a while you’ll actually start looking up to him – it’s around the same time you discover drinking alcohol at the park, your boobs start coming in handy then when you’re able to get served.

You’re not going to have your first kiss for a few years yet. In a couple of summers a boy is going to move in across the road. Mum will make you go over with a chocolate cake to welcome them to the street. Yes, it will be ball achingly embarrassing. You’ll develop a crush the size of China and will never manage to be cool around him.

One night he’ll get locked out of his house and come over to sleep on the sofa. You’ll spend time kissing (your first!) and then he’ll make you promise not to tell anyone. Don’t fall for his charm. He’s a user. Your second kiss isn’t much better as he will tell everyone he only kissed you because you promised to give him your walkman. Yes, boys are stupid so don’t waste too much time on them.

Spend as much time as you can getting to know Mum, I’m afraid to say you’re going to lose her in six years and it’s going to turn you upside down for many years afterwards.

At 10 you’re already a delicate flower, a sensitive soul who needs to be gentle with herself. You won’t be though and that’s okay too. Life is life is life. The ups and downs are just part of its rich tapestry (as your Mum says all the time).

Don’t worry, you’re going to be okay kid.

Love you, love you, mean it, mean it

Weasel xx





With thanks to ‘My Life: An autobiographical journal from Adventures to Zealous Plots’ by Mr Boddington’s Studio

A-Z: Advice To My Seventy-Year-Old Self

Dear Weasel,

I’ll accept no excuses if you’re not still a card carrying member of the Urban Family (unless you’re dead in which case make sure you haunt them) because that bunch of misfits have been wonderful to you and plyed you with enough pink wine to sink a battleship.

If you’re married then I hope he’s a kind man with a nice face who makes you laugh. If he has a penchant for wearing nappies I’ll be less pleased, and if he’s a magician I’d like someone to smack you upside the head because magicians = the devil.

Make sure your home still has books all over it and artworks on the wall – they make you happy. Try not to still be swearing, it’s most unbecoming for a lady of your advanced years. Actually, fuck that, you love a good fucking swear from time to time.

Drink gin. And if drinking it with Schweppes is what you want to do then so be it. Just never with cucumber. Make sure you’re not one of those old ladies who smells of lavender, or even worse of piss and peppermints. Don’t go on and on, your niblings really don’t want to hear about ‘the good old days’ particularly as the World is currently imploding.

Speaking of the niblings, don’t be distant. Make sure they know how awesome you are because right now they adore you and if you screw that up for future me I will NOT be impressed. Spend more time in New England.

Don’t start reading bodice rippers – your sex life might be dead (or who knows, you might be swinging from the light fittings!) but that’s no reason to read Mills and Boon. Don’t be tempted to try and write a Mills and Boon like Grandma, no child needs to find that!

Let people important to you know you love them. Spread compliments like wildfire. Try to love yourself inside and out, and never never lose your muchness. You sparkle.

If you’re still beating yourself up about your weight or your body then I swear to God I will find a way to make you rue the day you were born.

Love you, love you, mean it, mean it.

Weasel xx

(With thanks to ‘My Life: An autobiographical journal from adventures to zealous plots’ by Mr Boddington’s Studio)