Spelling those words since the early 80s / Purveyor of fine lines

I’ve had a busy old life so far: packing quiches in a refrigerated factory in blue plastic shoes, painting theatres at the Edinburgh Festival just so I could get free croissants from a daily breakfast show, photocopying tenancy agreements for Charlie Brooks (Janine from Eastenders), selling books to customers who insist 1984 was written by F. Scott Fitzgerald, and working in publishing for nine years. These days, I slave over a hot desk as an author and freelance copywriter.

Get in touch here to find out all the glorious words I could pour right into your brain.

It's Nice That

Oh Happy Day

The Bloggess

Yoruba Girl Dancing

You Are My Fave

What I'd Wear

I am a Leaf on the Wind


Pretty thorough research

Happy new year, everyone! There seems to be some rule about when you have to stop saying that to people, but since it takes me until March to catch up with everyone, my cut-off point is pretty flexible.

A marvellous Christmas was had by all, particularly since I knew I could (semi-) relax knowing The Baby Diaries had gone off to print at last, and also since my hilarious and lovely mother (a French woman v v defensive of her cooking skills) managed to forget EVERYTHING for the Christmas meal bar the meat she’d put in eight hours earlier. The ensuing chaos/team effort as most of the fifteen adults and infants piled into the kitchen to peel/chop/season/boil/steam the dinner into existence was quite heartwarming. Poor Maman.

I was given a free pass from most festive duties, though, as it turns out that “stomach bug" I had at the end of last year was actually crippling morning sickness. Having not had it with either of my two previous pregnancies, I had absolutely no idea what was going on, assuming it was just that norovirus craze sweeping the nation (just to clarify, I did know I was preg, but just believed that I had the virus at the same time). Jesus, I had no idea how bad it could be (and I didn’t even have it as tough as many do) - not just the vomiting, but the constant low-level nausea and exhaustion. Your body rebelling wildly and doing everything it can to make you as sad as possible. Shame on you, body. Shame. I did get to do so much reading, though, which filled me with joy: How To Be a Good Wife, A Canticle for Leibowitz, The Dud Avocado, Gemma Bovery, and a reread of You Had Me At Hello. All so very, very good.

But! That means I have plenty to do this year. And YES, this baby was conjured up purely for research purposes for The Baby Diaries - I am nothing if not thorough - but I’ll be birthing this one, writing book three in the series, carrying on with my job (which, as a freelancer, no longer offers that lovely maternity leave/pay and a leaving lunch at the Wolseley), finding somewhere for us all to live in (five of us in a lovely but small two-bed flat starts to feel slightly ludicrous, but is also great research for my next book), and working on a few other projects that I’ve had my brain on for a while (pregnancy always seems to bring me back to my post-apocalyptic or dystopian fiction collection, so we’ll see where that goes…).

Anyway, here’s to a swell 2013.