Writer
Hogmany in Scotland to the non-habitant would appear to be a fun-filled experience. Don't get me wrong it can be great fun but more often than not I’m afraid to say it doesn’t live up to the hype.
Harvey Nicks was as busy as I had anticipated. Lots of ladies looking out for the best designer bargin they could find. Sales shopping here doesn’t involve any unkempt sales racks, raking or...
“The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure that she carries, or the way she combs her hair.
Pie oh pie. I could eat a massive pie. Organic or not. It don't matter a jot. As long as I get me some pie. Love and inhibition. The chemical spill of addiction. The pastry triggers off my adoration.
My grandad from Wales, he always told long tales. We made each other laugh, so much so, his falsers broke in half. Super glue the remedy, sooking on spaghetti until they were ready.
It all began on New Year’s Eve. Every year the four of us traditionally spent Hogmany together, that being Luisa and Fletch, our best mates, Jason and me.
The buttercup and silky white rays of light glisten through the top of the magnificent curtains into our bedroom. The light had gently stirred me from the best sleep that I could ever recall having.
Once upon a time I lived a lie. A lie that was full of untruths, where my soul could not fly. My life was lonely no love or warmth, no giving, only taking.