Working at a petrol station at the age of 35 may have eroded what remaining self-esteem I have, but it’s also yielded some excellent comedic material. The kind of stuff you can’t learn at university. It’s one thing, for example, to know that the dominant theory of humour in philosophy is currently the Incongruity model … Continue reading Meat and two veg
I was revisiting Robert Frost’s poem, “Mending Wall” the other day, and though I’d always thought of that guy, the one that’s lumbering round his yard screening out his neighbour stone by stone, as a hard-boiled misanthropist who probably lived with his mum well into his forties, I can kind of see his point now, … Continue reading Love Thy Neighbour
For those of you not au fait with the term microaggression, it is not, as one might suspect, the act of being flicked with an elastic band at close range. It is something far more serious. You can check those antediluvian notions of overt racism, sexism, sizeism and classism at the door – years of … Continue reading Minority Report
Dear Abby, I’ve just turned 40 and have started to notice my husband’s interest in me waning. There is a new secretary at his office with flotation devices for breasts, and I’m scared of losing him to her. What can I do to get him back? Cathy. Hi Cathy, Your predicament is common. Just the … Continue reading A word of advice
Since scholarship money only extends so far, and I’ve become accustomed to a certain lifestyle (eating), I’ve taken a weekend job at *undisclosed petrol station* #humblepie. I joined for the uniform, primarily. It’s the way it sits on you. It’s the cut of the fabric, the way it takes every one of your best features … Continue reading It’s a hard knock life.
Hi Grace, You might not remember me, but I met you at Jill Landers’ party two weeks back – I was the one wearing the hessian scarf, stone-wash overalls and a shirt featuring the entire cast of Hey Dad. It was an outfit inspired by my late grandad, a humble wheat farmer, whose earthy ensembles … Continue reading I knew what epistolary meant before you.
I don’t know who Sandra Hill is and whether she’s laughing and making a packet, or whether she truly believes that love comes in the form of a (blessedly) thin book about randy she whales – yes, this features in the blurb. One thing is certain, though, her statement “Get ready for the time of your … Continue reading Mills and Boon have a lot to answer for.
I’ve discovered scary movies late in life: I still don’t love the ones where people’s heads are being used as punch bowls, but I don’t mind the occasional (tasteful) blood bath. This doesn’t sound that earth-shattering unless you appreciate that my childhood aversion to horror movies was less a dislike than a full-blown mental disorder. All my neuroses, I like to … Continue reading The Shining? Grade Seven? Really?
My heart sinks whenever I get one of these invitations in the mail. Sinks. I don’t know what that says about me, but I think I’d rather get stoned to death with tictacs than have to go to one more. The worst thing about admitting that … Continue reading Bub Crawl.