Seasonal Produce

Dating in London during the summer is like food shopping. One week there are more avocados then you can deal with, the next there is a global shortage. As soon as the sun arrives single girls experience a decline of descent single men. Happn and Tinder become obsolete. The best produce disappears on stag do's, weddings and 'lads' holidays (AKA wine tasting in France with their coupled-up mates. You can all it lads on tour as much as you like, we all know that you'll be in bed by midnight - you've got that 20k bike ride tomorrow. 'Lad's' holiday my a**e).

Men are just not in season during the months of June, July and August and to be honest the majority of September (depending if it’s an Indian one or not). They are out on long lunch and will be back in October to test the waters. By autumn the stag do's have been and gone, married friends have gone back into hibernation and all the BBQ's have dried up. The single men that didn't find a mate during the summer at one of the thousands of day festivals that happen at the drop of a flower adorned head garland creep back onto Tinder, tail between legs. Do not despair though they are heavily back in the room in November when frost hits the tarmac of London streets, no one wants to slip on the ice on their own. Then the race is on to get a boyfriend for Christmas because the thought of spending the entire Christmas period scrolling through the many Facebook pics of engagement rings without a significant other when you are knocking on the door of 35 leaves you feeling like you might need medical attention. 

Please don't get me wrong though I also have a busy summer social life. I go out...a lot. Although obviously I haven't met any men in real life situations, that only happens in films. In addition most of my friends are married and also now parents so there is very little opportunity to meet a future date in their company. Single people get screened at the gate, no baby, no entry. So, I'm left scrawling through Happn to see if any new produce has arrived on the shelves but inevitably it ends up being the same old rotten apples that you couldn't even make a crumble with. With that in mind is off to the gym again on Friday night with the other single summer sufferers of Islington. If only Fitness First served pinot.....

I know you've seen these shoes before on another post but I see the same single men on different apps so welcome to my world.

P.S. You've not seen them teamed with a vintage dress/kaftan that has an embroidered parrot on with the words 'Costa Rica' below. You are spoilt rotten.

Summer Blues

I like summer as much as the next person but I live in comfort when the thermometer sits between 22 degrees and 26 degrees, higher temperatures need not apply. Call me crazy but I don't enjoy beads of sweat pouring down my face when I've completed my look for the day. Sweat doesn't go with any of my wardrobe. Of course when I'm at the gym its a different page in the book, the more beads the better, get those carb calories out. In normal life I don't look to perspire for fun.

As soon as the sun comes out we are obliged to wear less clothes and this seems to be more apparent  when I go to the gym. Gym goers of the female kind seem to take the mantra 'less is more' far too literally for my liking. Yes, well done you have a wash board stomach, a well-achieved thigh gap and arms that rival your thighs BUT I don't need to see them all at once on the treadmill, cross-trainer and the gym floor. My idea of dressing for the gym during the summer months is moving from a full length running legging to a cropped one that sits mid calf. My t-shirt remains short-sleeved and long enough to cover what God gave me and the gym is helping me amend. If I do feel extreme heat I may tuck the short sleeves under my industrial looking sports bra, this will only happen under severe circumstances. The same rules apply for my barnet. A top knot and a thousand kirby grips are more important to me than my trainers. I don't want any loose strands sticking to my skin and by the way Miss Thigh Gap I don't care to see your sweaty hair either. Answer me this; why oh why must people, including men who care for a longer hair cut, feel the need to not befriend hair bands. Do not tell me that when you are running/sprinting/spinning/cross-training etc that it feels comfortable having your hair sticking to your neck like superglue. If you go to the gym to pull then I hope its a muscle.

I was at the gym last Friday night, I'm there most Friday nights due to lack of dates (dating isn't in season during the months of June, July and August). As I was burning those carb calories I came to the conclusion that there are two types of people who go to the gym on a Friday night:
1. Those that are single.
2. Those that who want to be single.

Obviously I fit into the first category, probably always will, until I settle for the man equivalent of a Volvo and move into category 2.

Disclaimer: The above is not likely to happen due to having higher standards than I should. Leave me in category 1 until further notice, or at least until winter when dating is back in Vogue.

These shoes are from Monday but lets face it a Wednesday can feel like Monday particularly when its long and unnecessary.

Thighs the limit

According to a magazine I read last weekend over 90% of women would change their bodies if they could. I 100% fit into this 90%. I buy every fitness/diet/health magazine that Sainsbury's on Upper Street can offer me. I do this in the hope that just reading the 'lose 14lbs in 2 weeks' meal plan will be enough to shred the pounds, like reading the words scrambled eggs and smoked salmon will magically jump of the page, land on my thighs and take all the extra stuffing back with it without me actually having to eat said breakfast. Eggs aren't my friend anyway (except egg and cress sandwiches).

As discovered from one of my last posts the only man in my life is called Gym and I try and see him between 2, 3 and 4 days per week. When I do see him, I work really hard to maintain our relationship but you know what men can be like, he sometimes lets me down. Whilst my waist may be small(ish) my calves relatively toned my thighs have been left behind and now have their own postal code. It's time to have a serious word with Gym.

 Exercise and me have never been a problem, it’s the food glorious food that hinders my progress. In my head I'm Kate Moss, in real life it's vastly different...


1. You've worked in the fashion industry for what feels like forever and have therefore grown up in an environment that talks of only two things, celebrities and diets. All buyer's, whatever the level, love to talk diet. It’s like working in a salad but without the dressing, croutons, potatoes, any form of cheese or mayonnaise laced product. It's lettuce and cucumber and it's as basic as the bitches you work with. 

2. To counteract point 1 you grew up in a half Irish/half English household where potatoes were central to the family. It was ‘what shall we have with potatoes?’ not ‘what shall we have for sides?’ The side was the main.

3. Boiled bacon (gammon to the masses) becomes a staple in your childhood diet. It goes out with mashed potato, baked beans and brown sauce and is still a dinner you dream of.

4. As a child your parents OD'd you on Irish Stew that even the word casserole brings you out in cold sweats.

5. Carbohydrates featured so heavily at the dinner table that they felt like the extra children your Dad wanted.

6. You don't know what a carb is until you are 18 and at university. The same goes for proteins. You didn't grow up in a house that talks of food in this way. It was either Irish Stew tonight or Irish Stew tonight.

7. If you had dessert it comprised of treacle tart, spotted dick or seconds of Irish Stew. You said no to all.

8. The first time you saw a prawn that hadn't got a job as deep-fried scampi you eat whole thing including the crispy coat it lives in.

9. You watch your Dad do the same thing 10 years later.

10. You and your Dad still talk with nostalgia about Fray Bentos steak and kidney pies. Do not knock these pies until you have tried one. Flaky pastry should rule the world.

11. You love sandwiches more than you love your parents. Crisps also feature heavily in the romance of your life.

12. You and your Dad are probably the only people in the UK who still eat corned beef. I like vintage dresses and I like vintage food.

13. You also grew up eating your Mum's favourite meal of macaroni cheese, mashed potato and tinned tomato's. Double carbs, one for each thigh. Thank goodness you had your wisdom teeth out and could only eat macaroni cheese because now the thought of eating it reminds you of feeling toothless and in pain.

14. You bring all this food experience to your fashion working life and wonder why buyers don't like you. You’re the girl who brought carbs into the office. If you don’t bring a salad then don’t bring yourself.

15. Tinned foods have been the backbone of most meals throughout your life. Fray's pies, tinned tomato's, corned beef, mackerel in tomato sauce, baked beans, tinned salmon and tuna. I could carry on but tins are heavy and I don't have a strong enough bag to carry them all.

16. Like most girls I start a new diet on Monday. By 12.30 I have created my own diet plan which includes a cheese ploughman's roll and bacon flavoured wheat crunchies.

17. At 27 you take up running half marathons just so you can eat more of point 16.

18. Realise that at 34 (even after running 9 half marathons) it’s finally time for your thighs to exit stage left so you buy every magazine that’ll tell you how to get a bikini body in an hour. You’ll read in 5 minutes whilst eating a BLT.

My outfit matches my sandwich 

See you at the gym.

Bank of Mum and Dad

The bank gets 8 holidays per year and thank goodness they let us enjoy them too. Four day working weeks are what dreams are made of. However when you are single and an only child your only source of 'social income' comes in the form of your parents. Your friends are mostly married and mostly parents so the option of Sunday night bank holiday drinking has been taken hostage by husbands and babies. So with that in mind here's how to survive a 3 day weekend when your 70 year old mother and 65 year old father are the only company you can find:

1. Book a table for dinner on Saturday night. This is because you haven't really eaten a proper dinner in at least a few days. A meal deal from Sainsbury's apparently doesn't constitute dinner. Nor does marmite on toast, a cup of soup or micro chips. Plus the lady who gave birth to you will pay.

2. When you enter any establishment that serves food or drink don’t expect to be sitting in the first seat you are shown to. Your Mum doesn’t like children or animals or people for that matter and sitting near any of these species will bring her out in hives. Screaming children in particular need not apply. You’ll find yourself sitting in at least 3 seats until the right one is found. It’s like playing a game of musical chairs that you didn’t even want to play.

3. Make sure you schedule wine into the weekend. This is a must for mother daughter survival. You’ll need a large glass to deal with point 2.

4. Prepare yourself to have to sleep on a blow up 'ready bed' on the floor whilst your Mum happily sleeps on your memory foam mattress.

5. Try to fall asleep as soon as you can so you miss listening to the Olympic snoring that comes from said mattress.

6. Try not to get too stressed when your Mum is ready a good hour and half before you need to leave the house. 6am is always the time suggested to leave even if the occasion starts at 8pm and is walking distance from your flat.

7. Never believe your Mum when she says ‘I’m only going to have one Bloody Mary today’. The women came directly from Irish parents, she’s drinking more than one.

8. When you suggest watching the FA club final in the pub you live above don’t underestimate your mother’s pulling techniques. Not one but two men will ask her to dance. You will probably be asked to leave.

9. When your Dad decides he is now ready to embrace the world of computers you will trek out to Berkshire with an old laptop to teach him the basics of Excel. He’ll think he’s Bill Gates. You’ll know he isn’t but you’ll admire his desirability to leave Victorian Berkshire to embrace a new life in the 21^st century one penny farthing at time.

10. When bank holiday Monday comes to its close you’ll feel exhaustion like you’ve never felt before. Between the musical chairs and the Excel spreadsheet listing Dad’s classical CD’s (we decided Mozart needed its own tab) you literally can’t wait for Made in Chelsea to rot your brain.

White M&S mules to kick off the week

Guess what? The next bank holiday weekend will also be owned by my family. Someone get me a husband and fast.

Expiry Dates

How to date in London when you've already dated half of London.

I'm a regular on Tinder, Happn, Bumble etc, if they were pubs I would be the old man sat at the bar. I'm so regular that at times I have forgotten I've already met Daniel, 35 on Tinder and am now arranging a date with him via Happn. He must have forgotten too or he's just being mysterious.

These are the rules I live by when dating in the capital (many of them have been born from bad experiences) read on to find out why:

1. Always remember that you are disposable. Social media dating is just what is says on the tin 'I'm social and I'm dating. When you go to the ladies he's also gone to the ladies. He's swiping or chatting whilst you're checking your face in the mirror. This is probably the most important point to live by. DO NOT FORGET THIS.
2. Do not go on a date with expectations. Expectations equal disappointment. Go with your face on, best dress and heels and see what happens. Don't expect to see him again because you probably won't (even if you have had a great time). Refer back to point 1.
3. Don't always assume that he's 100% single. His ex-girlfriend might turn up on the date. She might beg him to get back together with whilst revealing that they have two children together. He then might leave with her whilst you are still sat there speechless and a tenner down (you bought the drinks and your change wasn't monetary). You'll then tell your Mum what happened who will laugh like a drain and still does two years later when you regale the story to married folk.
4. You become single girl dating fodder like you're a jester brought in to entertain the upper class at a Victorian London society party.
5. You consider hiring a manager to get you more of the above gigs. Could be some serious money there.
6. Seriously consider taking out life insurance to protect your assets (vintage dresses and shoes need only apply) in the case that you might get eaten by cats. You don't even like cats (or any animals, except horses - they are super animals) but being single at 34 leaves you vulnerable to hungry cats.
7. Still hope that you'll meet someone the 'old fashioned way' in a bar, so much so that every single time you go out to a bar your game is on.
8. When you do meet a potential date in the aforementioned way and he asks for out for a drink don't expect it to actually happen. Refer to point 2.
9. Don't accept blind date options from friends. What your friend thinks you like is no way near what you actually like. Some people like sushi, I'm not one of those people.
10. Always look up when walking the streets of London, you're next Pinot Grigio could be bought by that hot man in a suit that just walked past you.
11. Quickly remember that this is London an no one talks any more through vocal words so you immediately get on Happn to see if he's on it too so you can communicate for exactly 5 days via text before agreeing a date to meet.
12. Then go through points 1-12 leaving out 3 (you hope and pray that never happens to you again).
13. Always, always have hope that Mr Right isn't too far away even if you do protest you love being single and it's the greatest thing ever ever ever. Honestly it's great, really great. I learnt my doth protesting from Lady Macbeth.
14. In reality you know that your perfect boyfriend is in fact called Gym and you've been in a fairly good relationship for 3 years, even if you have to pay him £53 per month.

Fingers and toes crossed people.

Here's the closest I'll be to wearing white this year...

Career Break-Up Rules

The rules to follow when you break up with your career:

1. Join an temping agency for 'temporary temping work' and then realise after 8 months that your expected temporary working plan has expired and you are now in fact a long-term temp.
2. Sign-on. This involves going into an actual real life Job Centre. Try not to cry when you are sat with your new 'Job Coach' who talks you through your allowed benefits, instead use the experience to go home and sign up to point 1.
3. Apply for any job that has a heart beat and then get over excited when you get a call from a recruitment consultant you tells you about a job that involves buying bristles for hair brushes which is approximately 40 miles from your house (still commutable if you don't mind getting 1 bus, 2 tubes and an overland train all for the same price as 1 months rent).
4. Go for a boozy lunch with your other friends who have also had a career break-up to celebrate the above point then realise half-way through your Pinot Gorgio that you've actually never wanted to buy bristles for hair brushes and travelling over an hour and half for a job that isn't worth the pittance of the salary they would offer is not actually your dream job.
5. Go back to home and watch 'Escape to The Country' or if late enough 'The Chase' after having a few pinots and eating a club sandwich and chips with said friends (you can't actually afford any of these items)
6. Skip the gym that day.
7. Hope that tomorrow you will get a call for an interview/job/temping role/Euromillions win/rich potential husband.
8. Fall asleep that evening vowing that you WILL get up at 7am for hot yoga followed by interval running training on the gym and then go to the library to apply for jobs and start writing the book you promised your Mum you would start 3 weeks ago.
9. The next morning wake up at 8am watch Good Morning Britain and Lorraine instead of going to the gym.
10. Vow to go to the lunchtime spin class.
11. Repeat numbers 1-8 (leaving out 2).
12. Remember to always wear fabulous shoes and vintage dresses (when not at the gym) like you've had a permanent job your whole life.
13. Go on holiday with your Mum.
14. Get an on-going temporary contract. Get excited about starting it. Realise that it's probably the most boring job in the whole world but have to preserver with it because the hen party to Marbella you're going on won't pay for itself.
15. Start writing again in the hope it'll earn you a triple salary career by Christmas and a town house in Islington.
16. Start imagining Kiera Knightley playing the part of me in the film version of my book.
17. Repeat number 3 over and over and over again.
18. Change careers.

The end.

P.S. It's Metallic Monday