Indeed, hello world. My twitter habit, a slow-starter, has become somewhat demanding and frenzied and so the way forward is to have a blog where I may extrapolate on my 140-character tweets. Whether I have anything interesting to say is another matter. Anyhoo, as it stands, I am a slightly desperate twitterer. There is a group of women I follow who are funny and cool and I want to be in their gang. Like school. And, like school, they are not letting me in. Ha! So I am out-witting (out-twittering?) them by making my blog so ingenious and brilliant that the tables are turned. As I said, DESPERATE and a bit sad. Someone needs a job, methinks.
As for me, I am a New Zealander who lives in the middle of London, in a big flat, with a communal garden, has a nice husband and has three little boys. I once harboured dreams of being a Very Important Lawyer, but those plans went skew-whiff and I find myself happy and not bored and slightly rounded and well-fed and 31 and a half with only a bit of my face sliding downwards. The jowl-ish part. Which is to be expected – I am not good at those face exercises and genetics get us ALL.
I think my children are brilliant/bad/embarrassing/funny/annoying. My husband similar. In the best possible way. Ahem. And I screech at them all too much, hence the catchily-named title of my blog. I also love dresses, Vogue, movies, Green & Blacks, Portobello Rd, sample sales and the Queensway Trinity Hospice second-hand shop, even if the manager is completely unhinged. Enough? I think so. If I can find out how to do it, I shall post a picture of Casper (locally known as “Custard”) with a Chloe bag. A bit wanky but there you go.