Life, Love, and Rum: A blog of random musings & true stories.

‘Who wants a ‘Mr Perfect’ when ‘Mr Perfectly able to own up to his fuck-ups,’ is so much more attrac

There comes a time in all our lives when we have to start taking responsibility. For some, learning to take responsibility comes early – like the time, aged 9, I played hairdressers with my best mate, Tracy, and sent her home looking like she’d been attacked by Edward Scissorhands. Hands up. Yep. It was my idea - sorry, Tracy. For others, responsibility comes later; a natural progression into adulthood, and often as a result of a life changing event, such as getting a job or becoming a parent. For a few, responsibility never becomes part of their lives. These people choose to shirk responsibility, and instead, develop mechanisms to deflect ‘blame’ away from themselves, and on to others,

I may be a strong, independent woman, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like a cowboy to ride off int

Today is International Women’s Day; a day where we celebrate the social, economic, cultural and political achievements of women. There will be the inevitable mumblings from certain corners of society along the lines of, ‘Why do women have an International Day? Why don’t men get a special day? Where’s the equality in that?’ Well there is an International Men’s Day so go google it. This post isn’t about justifying IWD, because quite frankly, I can’t be arsed to waste my time justifying anything to anyone who really thinks it needs it - just go back to reading your copy of the Daily Fail and berating all the refugees for giving our swans cancer from the comfort of your ivory tower armchair

Cougars go wild in Somerset: Part 3

The herd of bullocks eyed us with suspicion as we leant on the metal gate surveying our route through their large field, bordered on one side by a 15 foot hedgerow. “That one is giving me evil looks,” said Kim, who had ditched her Fonzie jacket for a bright purple fleece. “He’s singling out the weakest in the pack, and it doesn’t help that you’re wearing a top which is in the red colour spectrum,” I replied, reassuring as ever. “She’s right though. They don’t look friendly - these are testosterone fuelled adolescent bulls for fuck’s sake!” “They’re only cows! They’re just curious, that’s all,” a gung-ho Lisa chivvied us on. “Come on, we need to cross this field as the pub should be just up t

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