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Raise your glances…

There are few things more dull than being stuck with the man who talks to your boobs rather than face at dinner but there is someone who trumps him in my experience: The Wine Bore. The WB uses wine knowledge like a weapon, beating those around him into submission with presumed superior wine powers. I’d be mortified to be labelled as such but if you ever catch me employing WB tactics, I’m doing it for a very good reason.

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Dirty Hairy

I was described as ‘organic’ the other day. By a hairdresser. It didn’t really register at the time but I think I’ve realised what he meant. Call me shallow –

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Party pooped…

A few days ago, a friend and I talked about how much we were loving the holidays: everyone at home, no school runs, even relative lie-ins thanks to later-than-usual bedtimes for the children. The holidays are too short!

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Dancing Queen

There is a dance routine that I have perfected over the years. It is set to Queen’s ‘Fat Bottomed Girls’ and is performed in the kitchen at times of extreme stress or emotion to my favourite audience: my three children.

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Along came a spider…

I measure all pain on the BC scale: before childbirth. Even using an epilator is a walk in the park nowadays. But there is a mother who has raised the bar when it comes to showing the love. This particular one has her babies, then lets them eat her.

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