That did NOT go well

Afternoon Dear Reader,

FLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGH

No I haven’t passed out on my keyboard, although that is a distinct possibility seen as I am blimmin knackered.  That is the written equivalent of the noise I make when I think about last weekend.

FLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGH

There is is again.

It loosely translates as the word you say when you would happily peel your own skin off it it meant you could go back in time and not do the embarrassing thing that made you go FLARGH in the first place.

How I feel most mornings after a night of wine.

How I feel most mornings after a night of wine.

Now you may be surprised to know that there are quite a lot of things I have done that I am particularly embarrassed about.  (Alright not that many!). Most of them involve Tina Turner, alcohol, public places, or a combination of all three.

This time, however, my anxiety relates to the British Adult Ice Skating Championships 2016.

Continue reading

Secrets of a 28 year-old pensioner: An ode to JB.

Before Housemate gets too excited (her initials are also JB), this is not about you. I love you dearly even though you leave tea bags in the sink and lost the key to the post-box. Your achievements are numerous and wonderful but I haven’t dedicated this blog to you. One day, maybe, but not today. Sorry love.

Neither is this blog about Justin Beiber (who I think we can all agree is starting to act like he’s a few sandwiches short of a picnic).

You’ve guessed it. We have reached the exciting episode where I explain why on earth I called my blog Sophie, She Wrote. This one is a bit longer than the others but bear with me, it ends well.

Continue reading