A Christmas Fraud.

Statuses about how you miss someone who has died make me cringe. I hope that doesn't make me a horrible person, I just think loss is something very personal. But I'm going to go ahead and be a hypocrite because this post is about loss.

Today, I watched tartan-clad men playing the bagpipes and had to fight back tears. Tears of sadness, desperation, happiness, relief. I managed to fight it until we turned into our street and then I couldn't stop it.

I don't like Christmas. Even though I have a child who brings me so much joy, at this time of year especially. I've tried and tried to fall in love with it and have felt like a fraud imposing on someone else's fun. I'd happily skip it every year.

Ten years ago, on Christmas Day, my Grandad died. Sometimes, you don't realise how much someone has affected your life until they die. I didn't realise how close I was to him until he wasn't there to joke with anymore. I remember everything about him, his smell, how soft his hands were, his belly laugh and how it warmed my heart. I was 18 when he left. I woke up from a Christmas afternoon nap to the sound of the phone ringing and knew it was the call I'd been dreading. I'd spent the morning with him, he was unconcious, but I spoke to him. Kissed him goodbye and told him I'd see him tomorrow. I'd spent nights sitting up with my cousin and the nurse, talking to him, sitting by his side. Praying for weeks he'd recover. When he was conscious he'd ask me if I'd come round for tea and toast. He called me Charlie.

It broke me, his death. It's dramatic but it did. And I never truly recovered, because you don't after someone you loves dies. Do you? People roll their eyes when you get upset at someone who died a long time ago, but it's always going to make you sad. No matter who they were.

Last year, I visited a spiritualist church and he came through. He told me a bunch of stuff that stopped my heart for a second but I felt at peace. After nine years of waiting, I felt as though I could move forward and that maybe the nightmares would stop. And they did, up until a few weeks ago. And now I feel as though it's raw again and I'm desperate for a sign that it's all ok. It's been ten whole years, so much has happened, but it still feels like yesterday I was a girl cooking up elephants toe nails for his dinner. Eating chocolates off his tree and playing snap, listening to bagpipes and dancing like a loon.

Have I depressed you enough yet?!

If you're missing someone this Christmas who isn't here anymore, I'm sending you all the love in the world. Have a long, hard cry and write about your grief. Because sometimes, writing about it make its all better.

Christmas Day.

I have wonderful memories of Christmas Day as a kid. Because my parents divorced before I could understand what Christmas was really about (a shit load of presents, obviously), every year I got Christmas x 2. Both were very different.

From what I can remember, most Christmas days were spent with my Mum. We'd get up at the crack of dawn and start the unwrapping fest. It was pretty much just go for it. We never opened one at a time while the others watched or took it in turns. We'd literally just tear the shit out of everything, screeching with joy at all the toys and books my Mum had slogged her guts out to afford. She watched on with glee and we'd smother her in kisses and thank you's (I got that bit right, right Mum?).

At my Dad's, it was a different affair. We'd take it in turns to open a present, it was very civilised. Not my cup of tea at all. But those were the rules and we played by them. Screeching with glee still but every ten minutes instead.

My husbands Christmases were the same, civilised. And every Christmas we've had together has been civilised (apart from the one where I was deathly hungover and could be found dozing under the tree). And every Christmas we've had with Lil has been quite civilised... Tim: One at a time, Lilian. SNORE.

Waking up to my dream kitchen last Christmas.

This year however, this year things are going to be different. This year we are doing it how I did it as a kid. She's old enough to understand shit these days. She gets excited and screams with delight. It's how she should be, it's how this Christmas is going to be. Full of screaming and squealing and tearing open paper like there's no tomorrow.


Civilised present unwrapping is for adults and let's be honest... there are no adults in this house.

Working hard.

I'm pretty much raging today. It all began with a message from someone yesterday morning, singing my husbands praises because he WORKS SO HARD. Yes, I know he does. We used to work together and I'm married to him. I know. He recently won an award in his industry which was a long time coming and he deserved the award and all the recognition for his hard work. I'm proud of him. If he didn't work hard, we wouldn't be able to live in this nice house and have nice things. HE WORKS HARD, OK? 

Glad we've established that.

Anyway, like I said... raging. I got back from the gym last night to a sink full of washing up. Here's something you don't know about me: I cannot start cooking if the sink is full of dirty dishes. I cant do it. I thought perhaps once I got back from the gym, the sink would be empty. Seeings as I was going to cook dinner on my return. I thought wrong. I was annoyed. You could have done the washing up while I was out. I had Lil. When I have Lil, do you think the fucking cleaner comes round and does it all? Or even better, the fairies (we dont have a cleaner by the way)???? It wasn't important. I was going to do it once she was in bed. She is in bed now and you still haven't done it!!!!!

I know it's petty. And that spending time with his daughter is more important than chores. But I manage to do both e v e r y  s i n g l e  d a y. I don't ask you to do the housework, he muttered. YOU FUCKING WHAT? And on it went until I went to bed in an almighty rage and woke up in a rage and am still raging.

I am a Mum who stays at home to look after our child. I am also a Mum who keeps this house clean and (sometimes) tidy, who meal plans and cooks and ploughs through sometimes three loads of washing a day as well as irons things that need ironing. And guess what else... I'm starting up my own business. And, most importantly, I spend time with our daughter. Raising her, teaching her how to write letters and numbers, reading with her. And I still do the fucking washing up when it needs doing. And I get no recognition for my hard work. No awards. My daughter can't say the fucking alphabet because her Nanny taught her (she doesn't have a Nanny) and she didn't write some of her alphabet because Squiglet came round on her tea break to show her how to write e and r and v. That was all me.

Nobody says to me, oh Charlotte you are doing a wonderful job. She is such a credit to you, you're a brilliant Mum. You work so hard (except my Nan, she always says that). I'm not bitter, far from it. I'm just annoyed that apparently, if you don't earn a salary then you aren't hard working. And I think that's unfair. So, people who earn salaries... don't forget us Mums and Dads who stay at home to look after our children. Just because we don't go out to work, does not mean we don't work hard. Far from it, in fact. 

Actually, I'm going to make a bold statement and say we work harder.

Being outwitted.

It's not often that I get outwitted. Sometimes by my sisters, but that's normally when I'm tired and not on the ball (read: always). Lil's Dad never outwits me but sometimes he comes out with some pretty good lines. My Mum is just daft and we tend to take the piss out of her a lot of the time and my Dad gets ruined by us all. So really, I'm pretty sure I get my wit from my Nan. She is quick and can be quite acid tongued at times.

Lil definitely inherited her wit from me. She is quick and rather comical for a 2.5 year old. More so than any other 2.5 year old I've ever met. And I'm not bragging, that's just a straight up fact.

I thought I'd share with you a few of her most recent witticisms just for LOLZ and because I'm going out of my tiny mind with this bastard cold. It's defeated me well and truly (there I go again). And because it's Thanksgiving. I know I'm not American but I'm thankful that my daughter is so bloody funny...

Tim: How do you rate today Lil?
Lil: *sighs* 2 and a half.

T: If you don't want to talk to me, I'll go and do my jobs.
L: Congratulations.

*Lil says something I don't hear*
Me: Pardon Lilian, what did you say?
Lil: I said caaaaaaaaan IIIIIIIIIIII haaaaaaaaaave aaaaaaa driiiiiink pleeeaaase. Understand?

Me: What shall we do today?
Lil: How about nothing. You're boring.

*Dog looks at her*

L: Can I borrow your phone please Mummy?
Me: Why?
L: Because it's my turn you have to share.

Who said the teenage years start at 13?

Mum flu.

Yo yo yo. I feel like shit, it's been a long time coming. For three weeks I've felt under the weather and then this morning I woke up with mum flu. Full blown waaaaaaaaaaaah I'm dyyyyyyying mum flu. Marvellous. And then I had to get my sorry ass dressed to have blood taken which isn't much fun anyway but when you have mum flu, well...

Luckily, I was child free so I used the day wisely. I moped and sneezed and weeped and generally felt very sorry for myself. Much like how my husband does when he has the sniffles (ok maybe that's unfair, a bit). Still, having mum flu doesn't necessarily mean you can take a few days off to spend in bed does it?

So that's where we are at. I've done zero work this past week, haven't even thought about it. My mind has been on that bastard merry go round I told you about. I haven't bothered to write posts on here (I'm overwhelmed by how much I need to and want to tell you all... NO MUM I'M NOT PREGNANT) or even think about what to get who for Christmas. It's all gone a bit meh round here.

Obviously not meh enough for a selfie or two...

Anyway, a pointless post moaning about having mum flu. Next week... fab jewels, the cutest kids clothes and the simplest cake pop recipe.

BKD. Baking for kids.

I'm going to be completely honest with you (as if I needed to tell you that): I hate baking. Before Lil, I was master baker (snort) and then I had her and I just lost it. All my cakes were shit. My cooking skills became immense but I had turned into a shit baker.

Not much has changed, I'm slightly better than shit these days but I have a way to go before I can enter TGBBO. Lil, on the other hand, would bake every day if I had the patience. But I don't. So I limit it to once a fortnight. I can't bear the mess.

You can hide from it anymore, Christmas is coming!

So when I heard about BKD, I got excited. BKD is run by the gorgeous Mama, Adelle who not only provides all the equipment (including aprons) and ingredients at the baking classes she holds (for kids and their mamas) but she also does all the cleaning up! Talk about SUPERMA!

Classes are for children aged 2 and up and are held in London on Regents Canal. They last around 2 hours and are such a great way to meet new Mums while teaching your little one a new skill.

Christmas baking class? Book here.

If you're yet to bake with your little ones, here are a few good reasons to start...

Helps to improve reading and maths skills
Encourages children to see a task through from beginning to end
Listening to instructions aids concentration
Planning and making choices teaches responsibility
Creates a curious and positive association with food Improves motor skills – both fine and gross
Demonstrates the value of working as a team and taking turns
Builds confidence, self esteem, they feel a sense of accomplishment
Nurtures relationships and promotes bonding
Creative endeavours fuel kids’ imaginations
Organisational and time management skills are learned
Knowledge of food hygiene and cleanliness is vital for wellbeing
Baking gives kids a lifelong skill

Lil and I are signed up to a Christmas class and we can't wait to get messy. Fancy it? Go and check out dates here.

For more info on the beautiful baker and her delights, pop over to BKD. There's a blog too.

BKD is on Twitter and Facebook.

This is not a sponsored post.

The person I've become.

When I was pregnant, I didn't have a clue. I don't have many pictures of me during that time and I never read the pregnancy magazines or blogs (I never knew those kind of blogs existed) and I got bored of the pregnancy apps. So I just continued in ignorance. One thing I was sure of, though, was that I'd never be a certain type of Mum. One that stuck their kids artwork on the wall or took them to cooking classes. And I was sure I would never take my kid to a show such as The Chris and Pui Roadshow.

Well the whole artwork on the wall thing started from the day she 'drew' her first picture, so that's one thing ticked off the 'things I shall NEVER do' list. She's signed up for cooking classes that start next week. And today I ticked the kid show box. While we were waiting for the show to start, I wondered how I'd last an hour listening to their songs and wondered how the hell I'd come to this place I promised myself I'd never reach. And then the lights dimmed.

Watching Lil mesmerised by these two people, a switch was flicked. I found myself getting emotional. Who gives a shit if I've turned into someone a lot of people don't think is cool. My kid grinned and sang her way through the entire show. It was as if her year had been made, she was breathing the same air as two of her favourite people who she has only ever seen on TV. Christmas had come early for both of us. My heart felt as though it was going to burst as she sang along to nursery rhymes I'd taught her (although I fear she listens to Chris and Pui singing them way more than she listens to me... 'stop mummy').

I just don't give a damn anymore. As long as my little buddy is happy and joyful, I'll sit through whatever show she wants to watch (I must admit though, I'm a secret fan of this duo). I'll hang all her pictures on the wall, no matter how ugly - because she is the most precious little idiot in my world. Who cares what anyone else's perception of Motherhood is, whether they think it's pathetic or wouldn't be seen dead doing that. It's what you make of it.

Groovy moves and all...

This isn't a sponsored post. 

Halloween: How To Glue Stuff That Looks Nice.

I have a friend, let's call her Janet. She's clever and she knows a lot of stuff. I often text her when I have a question I don't know the answer to, she's like an encyclopedia. She's also really funny / sarcastic / good with words. And she is SHIT HOT at crafts. I often wish I could be more like her and then I realise if that were the case, we probably wouldn't be friends and have late night conversations about, well, I'll leave that for another day.

Anyway, I asked her if she'd like to do guest posts on here because of everything I said above. She was reluctant, I think, because she can also be a bit of a div at times. But I love her all the same. So here is a guest post on Halloween...

I don't know what it is about Halloween, but I love it. I think, maybe, it's because it's the first 'thing' I get to decorate the house for in the run up to Christmas. It satisfies the urge to transform things just a little, as it's generally unacceptable pull out the christmas tree and fake snow in October. I have a box in the loft labelled 'Halloween' filled with all kinds of spooky goodies. I did this pre-child, which apparently is a bit weird. I disagree. One of the best parts of Halloween for me now though is that it's a pretty solid craft theme to focus on with my kid. We love to craft here, but it always seems a lot more fun when it's for a reason, and it feels like all the mess was worth it, rather than just having yet another 'lovely' painting of squiggles and a giant glitter explosion to clean up in the kitchen. 

Here's a fairly simple Halloween craft that you can do with a kid of any age, and you will probably be pretty happy to have on display in the house for the rest of October (and then pack away to bring out again next year because how could you possibly throw them away?). 

Halloween Tea Light Holders

Warning: this is not for anyone - child or parent - who detests getting sticky. You will get very sticky hands. The mess in this activity is pretty focused though and easy to clean up - provided you don't let your kid run around the room brandishing a gluey brush that is. 

You will need: 
- clean jam jars big enough to fit a tea light inside
- tissue paper/crepe paper 
- black paper/card
- glue (PVA glue works just fine - if you want to get fancy then you can use a proper decoupage glue) 
- glue spreader/paintbrush

First, you'll want to cut your tissue/crepe paper into lots of small strips. Unless your kid is old enough to do the cutting themselves, do the cutting before you get any glue out. Once the glue is in the hands of a child you don't want to be distracted. Trust. 
Stick your glue in a pot and let your kid go crazy with a glue spreader. You want to coat the whole outside of the jar, including the base and the bit where the lid would screw on. Even out any over-zealous glue spreadering so it's not crazy thick. It's easiest if you hold the jar while they do the gluing. Those sticky jars are wily. 

Keep hold of the jar and hand your kid a pile of tissue paper/crepe paper strips. Let them cover the jar with them, any which way they like. You'll probably need to flatten them down a bit as they go, and maybe add some more glue to any bits that need it (I just put glue on my finger and poke at it, it's way easier). 

Once it's completely covered in paper, you need to add another coat of glue over the top. You can do this right away, but if you have a little helper wanting to do it 'all by myself' then it's better to wait until it's dried some as it's pretty easy to tear the paper when doing this top coat. 

At this point, it's important to make sure that there's no bits of paper sticking out over the open part of the jar. You want any paper around the opening to be completely flush and stuck down. If you have any sticking out it's pretty likely to catch fire when you stick a candle in there. Trust. 

Cut some faces from the black paper/card and stick these on. If you use card they may peel away slightly and need re-sticking once the glue has gone tacky. 

Leave them to dry and you're done! Don't leave them to dry on paper. They will stick to it. I know this sounds obvious now, but at the point of leaving them somewhere to dry you'll probably also be dealing with a glue covered child heckling you and demanding a biscuit. 

Once they're completely dry you can stick a tea light in them and you have a pretty sweet homemade Halloween decoration. If your kids are in love with them and want them in their rooms, then those little battery LED tea lights work well too and they shouldn't burn down the house as a result. Result! 

Semi-interesting side note: crepe paper is much easier for little kids to stick on, as it doesn't tear very easily when wet and they have a tendency to not be gentle, but tissue paper is way easier to flatten out and keep layering over any mistakes. Other than that, just use what you have available. We used both, and you can't see a difference. 

I'm not the first person to glue some orange tissue paper to a jam jar and stick a candle in it, this same idea is all over the internet. I'd try to find who did it first but I'm pretty sure that would be an impossible feat. 

Janet blogs here. She's on Twitter too.


When I was pregnant, I suffered from Symphysis Pubis Dysfunction. It was the most uncomfortable part of pregnancy; morning sickness I could sleep through but SPD was, at times, excruciating. At my first osteopath appointment, I asked Elliott if he had treated any pregnant women with it and what he knew about it. He was kind enough to email some information over for me to share on this blog.

Symphysis Pubis Dysfunction can be incredibly painful. There are three moveable joints in the pelvis that really, don’t move very much at all. For the majority of the time, the pelvis fulfils its function in transmitting force from the legs and supporting the pelvic organs, however the changes occurring in pregnancy mix things up a little.

During pregnancy a hormone called relaxin is released to increase joint mobility so that the pelvic cavity can expand during labour. This is possibly one of the reasons women may suffer from joint pain during their menstrual cycle, as the joints then rely on muscular rather than ligamentous support. The surge of relaxin leads to greater mobility of the pelvic joints (one at the front just by the bladder, the other two lie just under the small dimples on your lower back).

Due to the force coming up from your legs and transferred to the pelvis, the change in weight bearing during pregnancy, the effect the baby has on the abdominal musculature and organs, the pelvis becomes more vulnerable to the effect of asymmetrical load leading to changes in joint mechanics and then pain.

That is the complicated part. As osteopaths we simply detect the asymmetrical force or tension (i.e. a shortened back muscle or inactive abdominal muscle) and we try and establish balance. This could be with stretching, manipulation etc. We then prescribe exercises to stabilise the change that has been made. These exercises can be very gentle but effective.

An osteopath quite active in treating pregnant women is Caroline Stone. Read up on her work if you are interested in learning more about SPD. For more information please don’t hesitate to contact us at Revitalize. 

You can find Revitalize on Twitter and Facebook.


It's all go over here. After weeks of cursing the fuckers who pulled out of our house, someone finally took it so we were able to go ahead and find a house back where we belong... closer to London. So we have just under a week until we move again and this time I hope it's for a lot longer than three months. That's why things have been quiet. WE ARE MOVING BACK! Which means two things: I'll be back on the work saddle (I am already but juggling Lil alongside this has become impossible - I'm interviewing childminders and nannies over the next few weeks) and I'll get my social life back. Just in time for my birthday and the start of the festive season (I ain't even gonna apologise at how excited I am for Christmas) which brings me to this:

DEAL WITH IT. This amazing piece of work is brought to you by the fabulous Heather Young - go check her brilliant blog out here.

I have so much to tell you and show you but right now I have a screaming toddler to deal with. Must dash...


In her element and totally fearless.

This is the happiest I've seen her.

Fishing fun at Tarr Steps (she didn't catch anything)

Winston - resident at Exmoor Pony Centre

She was fascinated by this... a hoof picker.

Watching Winston getting his feet cleaned.

The view from Lynton. Breathtaking.

Lovely Lynmouth.

Sorry Derbyshire, but I think North Devon wins.

Taking the plunge.

I've never been camping before - what can I say, I'm not the outdoorsy type. I like being outdoors, don't get me wrong, but sleeping in a tent outside has never appealed to me. I've always liked the idea of glamping though and after years of dreaming of a Featherdown Farm holiday, a few weeks back we decided to book one.

Hello, beautiful front garden.

We were greeted by Charlotte (what a babe - HELLO, MUM CRUSH) once we arrived at Lower Rodhuish Farm who showed us around and made us feel very welcome. My jaw kept constantly dropping at the beauty of our surroundings, how amazing the tent was... it was all overwhelming.

Our hens for the week, Marge and Dierdre.

We had a tour of the farm, fed the pigs, tickled the guinea pigs, sat in a tractor, made scrambled eggs from the eggs our hens laid, cosy candlelit nights eating chocolate and drinking local cider... we had a blast.

Picking apples for the 'greedy, greedy piggies...'

Overcoming her bird fear.

Such an amazing time was had by all of us, Lil was in her element at the farm. For those of you not so taken by the whole camping malarky... this is for you. I absolutely loved the whole experience and it's such a fun place to take the kids - there are Featherdown's all over the country too. We'll definitely be back.

This isn't a sponsored post.

Wild horses.

I've never seen them before but for the first time last week Lil and I saw some... galloping across Exmoor National Park. I don't think I've ever seen anything so beautiful in my life.

A bad week turned good.

Last week was full of highs and lows but the highs were pretty damn high.

On Wednesday, Lil and I went to Bristol. Without Tim. I travelled across London with a buggy, a very heavy hiking rucksack (stylin') and a Peppa Pig bag (not to mention a child who weighs a ton) and I did it all without any help from burly, suited men (mainly because chivalry is dead). That, my friends, is an achievement for me.

Train buddy

My usually naughty child was so well behaved for the entire journey, I think I'm still in shock at how easy she made it all. We got to Bristol and hung out at the hotel for the rest of the afternoon after getting rained on quite hard. Thank goodness for CBeebies and yummy hotel food. The reason for this trip was to meet up with some Mum friends and for Lil and I to spend some time away together in a different environment. And do you know what? Since we've been home, she's been really good (apart from the odd tantrum). Mama and toddler breaks are the way forward.

The next day, after some bad news, a stint in soft play hell and lunch at a beautiful tea room, Lil and I headed back to London. After tea and sympathy with some friends I hope will be in our lives forever, I felt happier.

And then it was Friday. 

Instagramming each other

Friday nights are the best if you spend them with a wine guzzling, hot and quick witted midwife. Clemmie and I spent the night out in Whitstable (or Shitstable as it's now known - thanks Janet), eating Spanish food and being harassed by an overly pink faced, drunken twat. I've honestly not laughed that hard in a while.

This week I've learnt that no matter how shit things get, you can always count on your friends to make you smile and lift you up.

And for that, I'm grateful.

Shit* she says...

*'Stuff' just didn't sound right.

'Where are the keys mummy?'
'What keys?'
'The keys'
'Why, where are you going'
'Co-op to buy chocolate egg and wine.'

'I lick the wall'
'No, don't lick the wall'
'I lick it' *licks the wall*
'I'm not going to keep telling you: you must not lick the wall'
'I lick it' *licks wall again*
'That makes Mummy sad'
'Sorry mummy, I love you' *licks the wall*

'Look Mummy, horse' *sits on dog*
'Monty isn't a horse, Lil'
'I horse ride'
'Get off the dog'
'Me ride the horsey' *Dog sits there*
'Lil, get off now otherwise he will cry'
*laughs and hits the dog on the head*

'Where's my wine?'
'You don't have wine Lil'
'Where is it?'
'You have juice'
'I want wine'

'Me lick wall'
'I lick it'
'That's dirty'
'I do it'
'Don't do it'
*licks wall*

'What would you like for dinner?'
'No, you are not having chocolate for dinner. If you eat all your dinner then you can have some for pudding. What would you like for dinner?'

'I lick wall'
'No Lil, don't lick the wall'
*licks floor*

So now you see why I drink so much.

The only way is up.

It may not have gone unnoticed that I haven't been very positive of late. Lil's bout of naughtiness, where we live and family troubles have all contributed to my misery. If it wasn't for the calming of the sea, I think I would have completely lost the plot by now.

To add to the positivity I'm having to pull out of my backside, I've written a list of things I'm looking forward to once we're back where we were. I love being by the sea (seagull squarking aside), but I miss too much of what we had before. Even if the town we were living in is a shit hole. It's where my comfort blanket resides...

1. The gym. Yes, there's a gym here, but it's a gym without a kettlebells class and shit did that class make a difference to my mentality, my figure, my strength. The class every Sunday and Wednesday really cleared my head and made me feel good. I need that back. As soon as we land, I'm heading back to rejoin.

2. London. It was a twenty minute train journey into the city I've rediscovered my love affair with. Baby, I've missed you. I won't ever talk shit about you again, I promise.

3. Family. Babysitting on tap that I never took advantage of (watch out Mum...). Visits from people to break the day up (I used to get so much done while they entertained Lil - because let's face it, once you have a kid, they're only interested in coming to see the child). Spending the day with my grandparents, sleepovers with my sisters. I took all that for granted. Never again.

4. The local shopping mall. My safe haven. If we didn't have anything planned and the weather was shit, we used to bus it there for Pinkberry and sushi and window shopping. We both miss The Disney Store.

5. Friends. Most of my friends are in London or oop North. But the friends I do have in the town are ones I wouldn't trade for the world. And one of them is due to give birth in a couple of months. I cannot tell you how excited I am!

6. Wilko's! Bargain central.

7. Sainsbo's. The one here is tiny and pretty crap. I miss wandering around aimlessly and occasionally popping there to pick up coffee and cake. Because it was so good.

8. Familiarity. Like I said, it's not the best town in the world. But I have so many happy memories there. And it's steeped in history. 

9. The park. There is a really good country park that we used to spend every Sunday lunchtime at, come rain or shine. It was great exercise, walking round and talking to the cows. A little bit of countryside every weekend.

10. The worlds best chinese takeaway. I absolutely despise chinese takeaway food. It used to make me feel really sick, I don't know why. A bad experience maybe? But there is one place that sells food to die for. It's so good. And I miss it.

So you see, it may be the sixth worst UK town to live in.... but I love it. Because it's my town.

Love is...

Spending fifty years together, fifty hard years. But fifty years filled with love.

A few weekends ago we celebrated my grandparents golden wedding anniversary. It was such a special day filled with emotion. Lil was flower girl and took delight in wearing a 'pweetty dress' and twirling around all day. I got wonderfully drunk and thought a lot about how hard three years of marriage had been. So what's the secret to a long marriage? 'Patience, ignorance and compromise'. From the horses mouth.

(Here you go, Lil: A photo of your parents together - I think that makes it four now)