Crossing The Line

I have been having a passive aggressive argument about hair dryers for the last year with complete strangers. Every morning after the gym I shower and ready myself in my offices changing room.  A rather important part of my morning ritual is to blow dry my hair into a gloriously sleek and rather less edgy Pecky Blinders pompadour like hairdo. There are two hair dryers in the changing room and in some sick twisted game, there is only one plug. The hair dryers themselves are different models and as far as I am concerned the one you choose to use says rather a lot about you. One is a bells and whistles Babyliss number while the other is a decidedly understated Remington.  In my humble opinion the Remington or as I refer to it, Remi, is a far superior hair dryer, offering up a steady hot stream of air through a thin nozzle. while the Babyliss, rechristened Babs, is a dressed up tart who’s all image. It has blue lights and silver ventilation. You’d get more drying power out of th

Smokers these days are more secretive and solemn when sparking up then heroine users on the street. In general you find most of them, skulk in dark secluded corners, eyes continuously darting back and fourth for any onlookers as they take secretive quick puckered puffs of there cigarette that is being held down by there side. The lit end of the cigarette is hidden directly under the palm of their hand, increasing the chances of a burn. All due to the undeniable sense of deep shame they feel burning hotter than the god dam sun. Poor fellas.  When it comes to walking the street, second hand smoke is literally the worst thing to be caught behind. I speed up and over take at the first opportunity.  Occasionally locking eyes with the person as I pass, both  of us understanding the reason for my Usain Bolt like speed. Both of us agreeing that it is necessary.  So why is it when you have the unfortunate luck of wandering in the path of person using a vape, they will meet your gaze wi

At times I tend to get a little over excited. Like a child a with a toy.  Last month I took a trip to Bangkok. The first leg of my journey was an Emirates flight from London to Dubai.  I boarded promptly and took my allocated seat near the back, I was in the aisle while a charming lady was in the window seat. We had struck it lucky, the middle seat was vacant. Hurray. Let me tell you what happened on the plane. I am not sure about you, but when I am first presented with the in flight entertainment I dedicated a good 10 or 15 minutes stock piling a favourites list the size of the a small country. This plane ride was no different.   It goes a little something like this. Rick and Morty season 2? yes to all of this ‘Tap tap tap’.  Ingrid goes west? Great movie ‘Tap tap tap’.  Classic Disney movies? get that shit in my list. ‘Tap tap tap tap’.  As I continued to add favourites to my hearts content I am completely oblivious to the growing tension, movements and tutting noises co

So. Let me ask you all a question. How was your Monday? Fabulous? Let me tell you about mine. Overall I was pretty happy with how my day unfolded. Work was both productive and tiring. A satisfying combination. I got to meet new colleagues and had interesting conversations to boot.  I managed to sneak in some catch up’s with work friends that resulted in plenty of laughter. The day was running so smoothly I was even able to to leave the office on time. Bonus. As a result of this I managed to arrive at the gym earlier than usual meaning I could hit it hard.  As I was leaving the gym I noticed a few eyes on me which always puts a little spring in my step. I cycled home in the glorious sunshine.  I prepared dinner as I listened to some music and jumped into the shower to wash away the gym sweat and day. I was feeling pretty content it was a good day.  Smiling to myself I turned to face the mirror. Enter the biggest face crack of the century. There, to the left of my front teet

Recently after a few drinks as you do on a typical Saturday night I made a cliche mistake. I started to peruse the various dating applications. As you do. I struck up a conversation while only slight inebriated with a nice chap. Okay so It was not a slight inebriation and more of an obliteration. We decided to move the conversation over to WhatsApp as is customary these days when you make the decision that the person you are talking to is not a complete weirdo. One you might one day come home from work to find them going through your bins, while humming the theme tune to psycho. You have eliminated that possibility through secretive and cleaver banter such as ' are you a weirdo?'. Anyways. He passed this test so we exchanged numbers. I saved his number under his name we shall call him 'Bob'  and added an emoji to help the name stand out.  This is something I do with anyone's number I gain from dating. I add an emoji. They have absolutely no thought pu

 I have slowly come to the realisation that over the last few months, I like others, have become terribly addicted to using my mobile phone.  Numerous studies have been completed proving that receiving a notification on your phone release dopamine in our bodies. How utterly astounding is this? I wont lie. I am a high user of my device. I enjoy, scrolling through Instagram - bombarding others with funny memes. Sending lengthy voice messages on Whatsapp describing my day to my bestie and completely utterly useless quizzes on Buzzfeed.  Not mentioning my constant perusing of Grindr and Tinder. Enough said.  In a earth shattering decision I turned my phone off for a day.  Ground breaking eh. I needed to test myself and see how I coped without a mobile device to obsess over. I turned the device off on a Sunday evening and it was not powered back on until after 9am on the Tuesday of that week.  That way I could get the full experience.  Here was the result.  5:30am I begrudgin

I willingly gave up coffee on a schedule during the month of January. I say schedule because, it certainly was.  I decidedly choose not to drink coffee, Monday to Friday, the time I usually relied on it most. This was again a game of testing what I was made off. The background. I have been in a serious relationship with coffee from the age of 13. While everyone else was sipping there sugar filled milky tea I was using a french press to get my fix.  It was love at first taste, granted first taste was an instance Maxwell House red label, but every addict has to start somewhere right?! I enjoy the taste, the bitter after bite. I adore the smell, even the dirty coffee stank that lingers in the teacher’s staff room at every single school. Most of all, I enjoy the social aspect of it all. Nothing better then catching up over a coffee. Or even just going to a coffee shop to get some work done. Or an afternoon of cutting it up like cocaine and snorting it up both nostrils while watchi