This is what a beach body looks like

hen I used to pick up the Jubilee Line from Green Park everyday, I’d hang a left on the platform and stand opposite lady Beach Body.

I never thought about her too much, if I’m honest. She was just another poster whose aim was to make me part with my money by making me feel bad about myself. But I think about her all the time now. Because when those people made that ad, I don’t think they realised what ‘Beach Body’ truly meant. Neither did I, because I lived in London, and the beach was very far away both geographically and metaphorically.

But now I’m here to set them straight. Because oh boy, do I know. This is what a beach body looks like:… Read More This is what a beach body looks like

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Saying goodbye to St Piran

Having recently embraced maxi skirt life and, as a result, having experienced a newfound inability to take big enough steps to do anything, I even let the nice boat man hold my hand as I climbed aboard, which I assume means that we’re married now.

Upon boarding, I was confronted with three vicars and bishop. I’d conveniently forgotten the whole ‘blessing’ part of the deal, so focused had I been on the serious business of having a pint on a boat.… Read More Saying goodbye to St Piran

The seagulls next door

My only slight issue is that Disney movies led me to believe that when I finally made some birdy friends they’d be the pretty, delicate kind who might occasionally run a duster around and would definitely help me get dressed. And, admittedly, they’d be set up for failure from the get-go because it would take a full flock to haul me into my bra of a morning, but it would still be nice to try.… Read More The seagulls next door

BIG NEWS: Nobody has asked me to work on Blue Planet III

But the other day, when I was cycling home from work I noticed a weirdly huge flock of seagulls pegging it out into Falmouth bay and I watched them as they went, because I am a negligent cyclist who does not look where she’s going when there are more interesting things going on. I saw a big group of swimmers moving quite close to the cliffs. I thought it was a bit weird because nobody really swims in mid-February, and those that do tend to stay near the shore. They also tend to be exceptionally hardy older ladies who go in wearing nothing but a normal swimming costume, and these swimmers seemed to be wearing wetsuits. They were doing a lot of splashing and moving incredibly fast.… Read More BIG NEWS: Nobody has asked me to work on Blue Planet III

That time I sat on a man’s head while surfing

The only snag was when we got to that whole ‘standing up’ thing they seem to┬áinsist that all surfers be able to do. I just couldn’t do it. I could push my torso up. I could even get up onto one knee. But at the last, crucial ‘Blue Crush’ moment, I always ended up with a mouthful of Newquay seawater. All around me, my fellow students – who I’d (smugly) sailed past so many times as I caught wave after wave while they struggled – flew past me. Sure, none of them looked like they were quite ready to star in their own early-noughties sports movies either, but at least they were out of the water.… Read More That time I sat on a man’s head while surfing

Meeting the vicar without my knickers

They call over a nurse who tells them that, yes, they should be removing their underwear. After much outcry she scares up a few pairs of what look like cycling shorts made out of the same material as our surgical stockings. That way the doctor can cut them off if wearing underwear for an operation turns out to be wildly unhygienic. I think we all know which way it’s going to go.

“Do you want some?” She asks, waving a pair in my direction. I politely decline. I’ve already been without undies for a couple of hours and I’m feeling so liberated at this point that there’s a good chance I may never go back.

“She’s young.” One of the old ladies says, because apparently she feels the need to dismiss my being the only person who is actually doing as she’s told as youthful confidence.… Read More Meeting the vicar without my knickers

The kids in Cornwall are super-sporty and it’s terrifying

I once accidentally ended up in the middle of a huge surf lifesaving competition on the North Coast – children everywhere were just voluntarily wearing numbers and doing running as a fun Saturday afternoon activity. It was very alien to me. I mean, I will occasionally wear a number and do a bit of running if necessary but that is one hundred per cent for bragging rights and a reason to eat giant burgers under the guise of ‘refuelling’. It has nothing to do with enjoyment. And if you had suggested it to me when I was under the age of twenty four I would probably have wept.… Read More The kids in Cornwall are super-sporty and it’s terrifying