life lessons

Life lesson: It’s cool to be kind

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Life lesson: It's cool to be kindExisting on this planet feels particularly tough at the moment. In the UK the past few weeks have seen attacks on innocent people, and more horror and sadness that any of us wanted to imagine. It’s impossible to comprehend let alone accept what’s been happening, or the pain and suffering that those affected, their families and friends are going through.

And if any comfort at all can be taken at such an awful time, I am trying to take some from the very fact that we find it so hard to get our heads around such cruelty. Because finding it difficult shows that most of us are good people who would never hurt anyone intentionally. We’re here to love and look after one another, to use our days to experience laughter and joy, and to demonstrate kindness whenever we can.

Most of us do this on a small-scale, day-to-day basis – perhaps to a friend or a colleague, or maybe even to a stranger should the opportunity arise. And others take it to the next level – signing up to be nothing short of heroic as and when the moment requires. And for those people there can never be a sufficient level of gratitude.

Living in London means it’s the norm to joke about the level to which we Londoners ignore/sigh at/silently despise one another whilst commuting or attempting to make progress down Oxford Street. It’s a busy city and I’m as guilty as anyone of getting annoyed about the pettiest of things, and of putting my head down and just trying to get around without yelling at anybody.

But there’s a big difference between cynicism about the pain-in-the-arse daily grind, and actually not giving a damn about other people. Because we do care really, and never is that more apparent than when it really matters.

And it’s this knowledge – that the vast majority of people are good and kind and, normally, just trying to get from A to B – that I’m trying to hold onto today. Feelings of despair and confusion are an inevitable part of dealing with reports of such cruelty – and it’s important to make time for them – but then hope comes from focusing on the positive side of humanity. The sweet joy of having the freedom to live the life you want to live, the love and loyalty we can show our friends, and the bottomless pot of kindness forever at our disposal.

All being well, we’re going to be having a baby in November. (A less serious post will inevitably follow about the endless joy of the first trimester, I’m sure). We’ve a long way to go but, as you do, we’ve found ourselves wandering around shops and spotting things we’d like to put in the baby’s room. And one such item is a picture that reads: It’s cool to be kind.

After this weekend, I’m surer than ever that I’m going to buy it, because there’s no better lesson we can teach our child. And it won’t do us any harm to be reminded of that fact everyday, too.

Six things to remember when you’re moving house

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Six things to remember when you're moving house We’ve moved. Not far, just around the corner in fact, but we may as well have emigrated to the moon, such was the level of admin and boxes and general chaos involved. But we’re in now and the new flat is slowly starting to feel like home. The rest just feels like the results of a jumble sale I attended whilst drunk and bought everything in sight, but we’ll get there.

Next time we move (which will be NEVER by the way. We’re just going to have to stay here forever), there are a few things I’d like to remember in order to make the whole process easier on my mind, so here they are. Writing this means I’m not currently doing unpacking, as I should be, and for such an escape I’m very grateful. I hope reading this provides a distraction from whatever much more worthwhile activity you’re supposed to be doing too.

1. All being well, you won’t look back

I felt quite emotional about leaving our old flat. It was the first place we’d owned, the flat we left that September afternoon and headed off to the Cotswolds to get married, the safe space I could never wait to get back to after work or socialising or doing a big shop. To suddenly step outside of those walls felt risky – what if we didn’t feel as happy elsewhere? What if the next owner didn’t appreciate the perfect arch of the ceiling above the lounge like I did? What would next door’s cat do without me? Who would she ignore now?

But the time comes to move on and though it’s laborious and dusty and, at times, downright soul destroying, the process of packing up is actually rather helpful. You’re so happy when you’ve finally got all of your belongings out the door and into the van that you’re more than ready to get going and never look back. Also, if you’ve given the whole thing the appropriate amount of thought, you’re probably moving somewhere you like and that will enable your life to keep moving in the desired direction. And for that reason, it makes sense to just keep looking forward with optimism, and only to look back with gratitude for what a happy time you’ve had until now. (Mitsy Cat, call me!)

Six things to remember when you're moving house 2. You really should do a clear-out before you pack up, but don’t beat yourself up when you inevitably don’t

Looking through the madness of belongings we brought with us to our new home I am reminded of the level to which ‘F*CK IT, JUST PUT IT IN A BOX’ became our home move mantra by the end. You imagine that you’ll spend the weeks before you go sorting through every item you own and only bringing with you the most vital and useful of belongings. But this is not reality, or it certainly wasn’t for us. Mind you, I did try. I will remind my husband forever of the fact that when I suggested we get rid of anything we didn’t need before the move, he said: “I want everything I own“, as if to suggest that I was the sole hoarder among us. I can confirm now that we’ve moved and are surrounded by boxes which may as well have been labelled ‘WHY WOULD ANYBODY EVER BUY THIS’ that he no longer stands by this statement. (But I don’t mention it. Much.)

3. The good news is, you’ll still be you when you get there

The building itself is only part of the reason you’re happy where you live. The roof and walls and floor are critical, of course, but it’s you that makes that house a home. The relationship you have with yourself and whoever you live with. The life experiences you prepare for, recover from, and dream of beneath that roof. The friends you cater for, laugh with, and console on the sofa over cake and tea and the sound of a colours wash spinning in the machine in the background. That’s where the real happiness lies, and that can be recreated anywhere, I’m sure of it.

Six things to remember when moving house 4. The bad news is, you’ll still be you when you get there

I fell into the same old trap once again. You know, the one where you believe that in this new house you’ll be a tidy person, and in this house you’ll own less stuff, and in this place you’ll be a calmer, more together and focused person. Guess what? A property doesn’t just change your personality overnight. It’s nice that we’re now trying to cut down on the level of crap we own, but we’re never going to be minimalists. I’ve got a box upstairs especially for old greetings cards, which also contains a leaflet I made during A-level French explaining how to conjugate verbs. You know. JUST. IN CASE. I’m not good at letting go and that is OK. Je ne regrette rien.

5. That miscellaneous box of wires is going to follow you around for the rest of your life. Just accept it

I don’t know what most of them are even for. Some of them are ethernet cables; I believe we have about 300,000. There are also approximately 250 European plug adapters in there too because HEAVEN FORBID we should actually manage to remember to pack one when we go on holiday and miss out on the opportunity to purchase yet another at the airport. As for the rest, your guess is as good as mine. All I know is that they have followed us from flat to flat for the past nine years untouched, except by our fear that they might one day come in handy. If you came here looking for the very definition of a first world problem then I think you just found it.

Six things to remember when moving house6. Nobody knows what’s around the corner

Change is scary, I’m never not afraid of it. Be it the small, such as a new brand of orange squash or the suggestion that we should go out on a Monday night. Or the big, like a change of address, or a new local cat to make friends with (it’s going extremely well so far with this one, BTW). But life wouldn’t be half as interesting without change. We simply couldn’t move on without it.

My dad has said to me each time we’ve bought a new home to remember that there will definitely be something wrong with it that we don’t yet know about. That’s just the way it works. So what matters is that we like the place enough to endure the cost and the admin that comes along when we discover what it is. And it’s strong advice.

You never know what’s going to happen, all you can do is make what feels like the right decision based on the information in front of you, and then move forward without regret. And just as you don’t know what trouble might be around the corner, you never know what fresh joy is waiting for you either. The only way to find out is to risk it.

La La Land: Seven lessons you learn when following your dreams

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20170114_150307I don’t always love musicals. I tend to want everyone in them to calm down. But not this time. I loved everything about La La Land: the singing, the dancing, the romance, and ohmyword the soundtrack. (For those in pursuit of joy: it’s on Spotify).

I also loved that this is a film about following your dreams, the ridiculousness involved with putting yourself out there, and the compromises you have to make to get what you want (granted with more dancing than I’d considered incorporating before, but maybe it’d help?).

It’s funny, one moment you’re laughing in the face of inspirational quotes, clicking away from articles offering career advice, and declaring war on anybody who talks about being ‘meant’ to do a particular job, and then all of a sudden you’re every single one of those guys rolled into one. I blame age – it makes the need to enjoy your life feel so much more pressing.

Whatever your aim – mine is writing for a living – you learn a lot whilst trying to make it happen. So for anyone considering chasing a dream, here are some of the lessons I’ve learnt so far, and I’m sure there will be plenty more to come…

1.You have to learn to SAY it.

What do you say when somebody asks what you do? Or when they ask how the writing/comedy/acting/photography is going? Perhaps you’re more naturally confident than I am, in which case GOOD KEEP THAT UP, but if not, you have to find the courage to answer this question properly.

On the inside I’m absolutely obsessed with writing, with being published, with coming up with new ideas, and with getting better at it. But because there are so many people doing it, and so many versions of what ‘good’ looks like, I’m afraid of looking like a fraud or somebody pursuing a pipe dream. BUT what I’ve learnt is this: a) I’m not either of those things and b) Even if you feel that way, you have to learn to act like you don’t. People won’t give you work or recommend you if you’re too afraid to even say what you want, and you won’t feel confident enough to try if you don’t hear it from your own mouth. And anyway, the more you speak to people, the more ideas you’ll get, so you need to do it. People are asking how it’s going because they’re interested, so take a deep breath and have the chat.

2. A ‘Yes’ strategy is a good place to start

You never know where opportunities are going to lead you, so when you’re starting out and you don’t have any or much work, saying yes to what comes your way isn’t a bad strategy. Of course, there are caveats here – make sure it’s something you want to do, that you’re happy with the money, and that you have the space and time to do it. I just mean that it doesn’t have to be precisely what you want to do in the long term from the start, as the experience will still come in handy. At worst, it’ll teach you what you don’t want which is also a useful lesson.

20170102_1046023. Someone in the crowd could be the one you need to know

Yep, I’ve had that song in my head for days and now you will too. Meeting people, speaking to strangers on the phone, and generally going out into the world and saying “You don’t know me but here’s my heart and soul, want to buy it?” is a necessary part of trying to build a business or a career for yourself. Do not be afraid of this. It is 100% worth it and often fun. And anyway, there is simply no way around it; the odds of somebody coming round to your house out of nowhere and offering to pay you to write/act/tell jokes/sing songs for them is very low, and to be honest I’d be very wary of anybody who does.

4. Compromise is very much part of the deal

Films don’t document people working on Sundays when everyone else is out eating roast dinners or walking dogs; nor do they show people hunched over their laptops, typing away into the night because they have a deadline that they couldn’t hit during the day because they have another job. But this can be the reality of dream chasing. It certainly is for the writers among us. I would describe myself as ‘In a serious relationship’ with my desk, my laptop, and about 45 different Moleskine notebooks. It’s OK, they’re all fine with it.

There’s glamour and joy to be had, for sure – a byline, a pay cheque, your face on TV – but most of the time it’s just me, a blanket, my computer and all the empty packets from snacks I’ve inhaled. I’m happy with that, but I appreciate it wouldn’t be for everyone.

5. Patient friends and family are everything

There’s a bit in La La Land where Sebastian drives to Mia’s house and insists on taking her to an audition because he believes in her. These are the kinds of people we need in our lives. People who won’t get cross when we have to opt out of going to a party because we have a deadline, but who will instead make us a drink before they go – because not only do they understand our life goals, but they also take hydration seriously.

6. You have to learn when to rest 

Why didn’t you go on holiday last year, Charlotte?

Oh because I was too busy chasing my dreams.

And what are your dreams exactly?

To write for a living so that I can travel and enjoy my free time on my terms.

Right…

Breaks matter. They matter to your health because life is tiring, they matter to your relationships because to have them you need to actually spend time with people, and they matter to your work because you can only create great things if you look after yourself. So you need to get good at figuring out when to work and when to rest. As I discovered early on, if you just wait until you fall over to realise you need to stop, you’re leaving it too late.

7. Comparing yourself to others is NOT helpful

I’ve written about this lots of times before (and most recently in this post), but it needs reiterating to remind myself and anybody else who spends too much time online. It is healthy to look at somebody who has done something you would also like to do and think “How can I learn from them?”, it is not healthy to think “I am a failure because this has happened to them and not to me.” Do you see the distinction? Good, now paint it on your bedroom wall or your phone screen. None of us has enough time to waste worrying about why we’re not somebody else. We’ve got much more important sh*t to do than that.

The small moments of joy that made 2016 more than bearable

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img_20160817_133724I don’t need to mention that this year has been… difficult.

But rather than add to the noise about the horror of 2016 – the deaths of numerous icons, the dream of the first female US president tumbling into the abyss, and the opportunity to spend Wednesday evenings watching people make cake whilst eating cake disappearing forever – I’ve decided to focus on the positives.

Because there’s nothing like a year filled with endless news stories of sadness and despair and a, frankly, terrifying political landscape, to make you appreciate the smaller moments that make up each day. So here are a few of the small but precious moments that made this year unforgettable for me. And I’d love to hear yours too.

Halting mid-order at the bar on Battersea Rise to sing emphatically to Blank Space by Taylor Swift with Ceri. Thank you for your patience, Mr Barman.

Sitting in the British Library with Alexa, working on our separate writing projects alone but together, and rewarding our efforts with door stopper sized pieces of cake.

Hearing my brother walking down the stairs saying “Alright then, dude” to his 10 day old baby son, Jack, who he was about to introduce us to for the very first time.

img_1739Having a panic attack at St Pancras station whilst waiting to meet Emma, telling her I was suffering, her saying “You know, I don’t expect anything from you” and it disappearing just as quickly as it came.

Receiving my first ever yes from an editor I’d pitched a story idea to cold.

1am Sunday morning, late January. Standing on the train back to Wimbledon with Sarah, covered from head to toe in sweat after throwing everything we had into Shake It Off. People stare. We regret nothing.

Watching Jack fall asleep on Leon and witnessing the precise moment my husband fell in love with our nephew.

The final seconds of Orange is the New Black series 4. *mouth wide open emoji*

Standing in a cramped pub in Hackney, the windows streaming with condensation, bouncing along as my friend Sara played bass in a David Bowie tribute band and having it confirmed that she is indeed the coolest of chicks.

Purchasing a yellow leather backpack under the guidance of my boldest friend, and never looking back.

Sheffield, August. A whole afternoon with Jen, Matt, Jo and Leon. I discover Hendrick’s, tonic and cucumber. Life becomes even more interesting.

The response I got to a blog called Solitude is good for you, loneliness is not. I thought talking about finding social situations difficult and needing time to myself would make me sound weird. But, as always, it’s never just you.

Reviewing my choice of outfit (below) for a two and a half hour hike between the Cinque Terre in Italy and realising once and for all that nobody will ever accuse me of being outdoorsy.

Dinner, La Loggia, Levanto, Thursday 19 May. We are at our best.

Falling out of a bar at 8.45pm on a Friday night with my two favourite drinking buddies, laughing like hyenas and heading off in search of food, any food, to soak up all the delicious, if ill-advised, margaritas we’d consumed.

Every time I did that particular type of sigh I reserve for when I close a book I’ve loved. (There were 16 this year, if you’re interested).

When Leon and I used our Nutribullet to make margaritas and we learnt the hard way what it tastes like if you line each glass with table salt instead of rock. (Not good, bro).

Watching Jack eat the tiny remaining peas from his dinner that he’d spread around his high chair from the tip of his mum’s finger.

Seeing the way he looks at her.

Demonstrating that I know all of the words to Mysterious Girl by Peter Andre at a wedding and feeling not a single ounce of shame.

The look of amused surprise on my friends’ faces at Thorpe Park when they discovered just. how. seriously. we take roller coasters.

Being taken to Budapest for my birthday and learning that the first rule of wearing a hat in 34 degree heat is: keep the hat on until you can shower your hair back to normality.

Spending a day with my five oldest friends discussing everything – from the super grown up world of marriage, mortgages and babies, to the most immature game of GUESS WHAT XYZ FROM SCHOOL LOOKS LIKE NOW! – and managing to empty a pub with our endless guffawing.

Every single commission, recommission, published piece, and positive comment that confirmed that, writing wise, I’m in this for the long haul.

The three hour masterclass I went to on how to structure a novel. I don’t know if I’ve got what it takes, but at least I know how to find out.

Discovering that, in Italy, having a doughnut for breakfast is not just acceptable but encouraged.

A chocolate milkshake with Rachel. It was 50% catch up and 50% “Charlotte, don’t let this opportunity pass you by – I’m going to help you take it.”

Realising that one of my very favourite things to do when I’m alone is to play No Matter What by Boyzone and sing both Ronan and Stephen’s parts. And don’t pretend you’re not now off to do exactly the same thing.

The expression on Leon’s face when he came home to find I was making homemade burritos for tea.

Going to see Frankie Boyle, Bridget Christie, Stewart Lee, Hans Teeuwen and Luisa Omielan and feeling that special type of excitement that only comes from watching really, really good comedy.

A Wednesday night in November. Stepping onto the escalator at Waterloo and smiling because that evening with those two women just happened.

Every other time I walked away from a catch up thinking “I cannot wait to see that person again.”

When the cat that visits our garden came into the flat and sat on our sofa for the very first time and there was an entire five minutes when I didn’t think she hated me.

My younger brother standing on the platform at Leicester station and pointing through the train window at empty seats because he knew I was worried about having to stand all the way back to London.

All the days I managed to continue living my life despite having a migraine every week for six months. You don’t get to win, I do.

Christmas. Every second of it.

Feeling everything on my family’s priority list silently shift and Jack taking his place at the top.

Standing in the upstairs bedroom of what will hopefully be our new home and seeing our future waiting for us.

 

31 things that continue to surprise me about being alive

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IMG_20160707_160600It’s birthday time for me 🎂 and this year I’m turning 31. It’s not Big News like turning 30 was – there’s no ’31 things to do before you turn 31′ lists to read. (I assume because people think the only thing you really need to do by this point is recover from turning 30).

Nope, it’s just a middle of the road, hardly worth mentioning sort of age, and I’m fine with that. It’s nice to go under the radar for a little while.

But just because 31 isn’t considered to be a particularly remarkable milestone, it doesn’t mean I have nothing to say. Regular readers will know that it’s become something of a tradition for me to write a list as long as my age to mark my birthday – a decision I imagine I will regret enormously by the time I turn 75.

When I turned 29 and 30 I jotted down a series of things I had learnt. So this year – in the interests of keeping things fresh – I’ve opted for a list of things that continue to surprise me about living in the world. Because the older you get, the longer that list becomes.

1. That there are people who do not like Jaffa Cakes.

2. That after almost 11 years together, the text message I’ve sent my husband which has provoked the most positive response to date said: I’ve managed to fix our WiFi.

3. That the lyric ‘My mama don’t like you and she likes everyone’ was all it would take for me to like Justin Bieber.

4. That, rather than a hilarious joke, ‘This train is delayed due to a lack of driver to drive it’ is a commonly used excuse for transport disruption. 

5. That the amount of money you spend on a pair of shoes has absolutely nothing to do with how much they are likely to hurt your feet.

6. That the glare I gave the man on the train who said “I’m on my way to London Houston” didn’t turn him to stone.

7. That I once offered a friend one of my pick n mix sweets and they took the single, giant fondant filled liquorice lace I was clearly going to save till last. WHO DOES THAT

8. That it’s possible to select an outfit to wear at at 8am, and then realise you hate it more than anything you’ve ever seen in your life by 10. 

9. That after two years as a glasses-wearer, I still fail to anticipate what will happen when I open the oven or dishwasher door whilst wearing them.

10. That eventually my life would be divided into two halves: Before I started enjoying gin, and after.

11. That there is nothing quite like the incredible sense of achievement one feels following the successful usage of drain unblocker.

12. That intense feeling of loss a woman feels when she looks in her make-up bag and discovers that her blusher has shattered into a million pink, dusty pieces. 

13. That there is nothing more frightening than the prospect of hearing a recording of your own voice.

14. That there is so much happening in the world, and yet I still feel the need to correct people when they say ‘I’ when they should be saying ‘me’.

15. That I still get invited to parties.

IMG_745916. That I ever thought simply wearing my sunglasses over the top of my glasses would fill the gap that only prescription sunglasses can. (And how unbelievably heavy that felt on my face).

17. That I get worryingly close at least once a week to sending an email that features the word ‘afterboob’ instead of ‘afternoon’.

18. That there would come a time when somebody saying they spent an afternoon reading a book – rather than looking at any kind of screen – would seem like the greatest demonstration of willpower the world has ever seen.

19. That my husband expects to receive the kind of praise one might reserve for a person who has just run the marathon for simply putting a wash on.

20. That nothing on this earth – not purchasing an appropriately ripe avocado, or figuring out what level of postage to put on a package, or attempting to cook one of Jamie’s 30 Minute Meals in less than an hour – is more difficult than finding a Friday night on which all members of a female friendship group are free to have dinner together. 

21. That the simple act of removing the Facebook app from my phone has done more for my mental health than any holiday ever could.

22. That one minute you swear you will never let a single crumb come near your precious new phone or laptop, and the next you’re tapping at the keys with peanut butter-covered fingers like there’s no tomorrow. 

23. That expression friends make when they discover that you’re left-handed. Like they don’t really know you at all.

24. That however hard you think it is to make a human being love you, it’s a walk in the park compared to trying to befriend a cat. 

25. That just because a hangover isn’t there when you wake up, it doesn’t mean it’s not coming for you in a few hours’ time.

26. That admitting that you suffer from anxiety is like mentioning that you own Adele’s album ’25’ – dude, everybody’s got that.

27. That I remain incapable of having a conversation with someone who is crying without also crying myself.

28. That some gluten free brands have the audacity to call the crumbly slices of disappointment they produce ‘bread’. 

29. That I now live in a world where recognising people because you’ve seen photographs of them on the Internet is considered evidence that you have strong social awareness, and not that maybe a restraining order should be issued.

30. That for so many of us it’s not until we reach our fourth decade on earth that we start to realise what it is that we want to do with our lives.

31. And that if the speed of the last 31 years has taught me anything, it’s that we don’t have time to spend a single second doing anything else.

7 things that happen when you become an auntie

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7 things that happen when you become an auntieMy biggest news for 2016 so far is that at the end of February, I became an auntie.

My brother and his girlfriend announced the arrival of little Jack and life has never been the same since. Well, mostly for them of course – I still get a strong 7-8 hours sleep, can have a shower whenever I want, and am responsible for nothing except feeding my cheese on toast addiction. But my brain is all about baby Jack and when I’m next going to get to have a cuddle of him.

A new baby joining the family is life-changing for everyone. Conversations, decisions and occasions all revolve around him now. He has more power than any of us job-holding, mortgage-paying, degree-awarded adults, and he’s only been in the world for 53 days, the clever little thing.

I’m taking my new role as an auntie extremely seriously and enjoying every second of it. Here’s the inevitable listicle about what life is like when your nephew (or niece) has arrived. In short: pretty darn swell:

1. You stare at their photograph like a lovestruck boy band fan – The morning after Jack was born, my husband found me lying in bed, glued to the picture my brother had sent through of him the night before. I was completely in love with a baby I had never met. Scrolling through photos of the little dude is now my favourite pastime. As soon as a major baby comes into your life, you understand why parents can’t help but take pictures of their child’s every movement – their existence will never cease to feel miraculous.

2. You develop a newfound respect for your sibling – One minute your brother’s refusing to let you have a go on his Game Boy and making you so angry that you run into his bedroom and rip his posters off the wall (as discussed previously we didn’t always make life easy for each other when we were growing up), and the next he’s presenting you with his brand new baby son and making you feel so proud that you burst into tears. Having a brother really is an emotional roller coaster. Seeing your sibling and their partner more tired than they’ve ever been and yet still doing an amazing job of looking after their little one is enough to make you bow down in awe. Leon and I might think that staying up late watching old episodes of Family Guy makes us tired but something tells me that we don’t yet know the meaning of the word.

3. You and your partner vow to be the best aunt and uncle the world has ever seen – We were beside ourselves with excitement when we were heading up north to meet our nephew. I didn’t quite realise until he was born how much his arrival would feel like a gift for us too. We’ve cooed over little outfits together (often discussing just how many of the patterns on Babygros we would both happily wear on our own clothes), we’ve considered all the London sites we’re going to show him when he comes to visit, and we’ve wondered just how old the little guy will have to be before we stop referring to him as ‘baby Jack’. (Our current estimate is 18).

4. You’d think that no other baby had ever been born – I do know that Jack is not the first baby ever to grace the planet. I understand that I was once a baby and that you were too. And yet I can’t help but feel that there is something extra special about this one. In conversations I want to say “No but you don’t understand, this guy is extraordinary. I swear, nobody has ever worn dungarees so well.” But I know this is just what happens when you have a new little human in your life. In the interests of avoiding being branded a mad aunt at this early stage, I’m trying to keep this kind of observation to a minimum (although seriously his style is on point).

5. You give yourself far too much credit – When I arrived at his house this weekend, after just a few minutes of trying to figure out which part of my chest was most comfortable, Jack fell asleep. And even though my head knew that he would definitely have drifted off anyway no matter where he was lying, my heart remained open to the idea that I was in fact a baby whisperer.

6. You discover that ‘eau de baby’ is your new favourite smell – It’s a good thing that it’s not possible to inhale an entire baby otherwise I fear I might have done just that. Everybody says it but my word they smell amazing. I find myself sniffing the clothes I wore to visit Jack just to get a little dose of that gorgeous milky scent. It’s such a shame we all lose our newborn smell; I’m sure commuting through London would be a much more pleasant experience if everybody smelt like a freshly baked biscuit, instead of a hot sweaty mess of body odour, coffee, and rage.

7. You get to watch somebody learn how to be a person – The first time I met Jack he was only 10 days old. He was the littlest human I had ever seen. This time, just over a month later, he was still small, as you would expect of a baby, but he had clearly already learnt so much about the world. He can pretty much hold his own head up all by himself, he can knock back an entire bottle of milk without even needing to come up for air, and he can smile. These are major achievements. The only thing I’ve learnt in the last month is that eating two creme eggs in a day will make you feel just as nauseous as you would expect. If being an auntie has taught me anything, it’s that I really need to start making better use of my time.

Life lessons from Caitlin Moran: Give yourself permission

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Caitlin Moran - Moranifesto, Southbank CentreI’ve mentioned before just how much I love funny, female writers, so of course I’m a big fan of Caitlin Moran. Seeing her speak at the Southbank Centre was a perfect way to celebrate International Women’s Day. I absolutely loved it.

I always get so much out of hearing from my heroes so I wanted to write down the top four lessons I took away from last night because – who knows – you might find them useful too:

1. You don’t have to know everything about a subject to be able to talk about it; and 2. It’s OK – you can be serious and funny at the same time

Well, thank goodness for that. Caitlin came to talk about her new book Moranifesto in which she talks about the state of the world. She says she didn’t used to think she was allowed to talk about politics – that it was a subject reserved for grown ups and that you had to be an expert to justify having a say. But then she realised that was simply not true.

I can relate to this feeling. A friend told me a few years ago that every time I’d start to say something at work, I would open with a few qualifying sentences – to make it clear that I wasn’t an expert on the subject or that I may be wrong or that somebody else could easily have already thought of what I was about to say. And it was totally true – I just wasn’t confident that I had the right to have a voice. I really try not to do that now. You have to believe that you are worth hearing.

Caitlin also discussed how it’s OK to talk about politics in both a serious and funny way. If you want to throw a joke in, do it. She spoke about how she had to give herself permission to do just that, and that we mustn’t let people tell us how to talk about it. We all have something to offer.

I was very pleased to hear this as no matter what I’m writing or chatting about, I cannot help but chuck a bit of humour in. I like to talk about serious things, to put out there how I feel about something or someone, but then I also like to make jokes too because it’s simply who I am. It’s nice to know from somebody so successful that doing that is OK, that our points are still valid. I am officially giving myself permission to make crap jokes forever now. Hurrah!

3. Look how you want to look

If you’re familiar with Caitlin Moran, you’ll know she’s a big fan of pulling what she calls her ‘muppet face’. But she told us last night that she gets a lot of stick for it. That people write in to say she should make a more sensible expression in pictures. Well, I disagree. And thankfully so does she. She says she makes those faces because it makes her happy, and because when a woman tries to look attractive in photographs, she is immediately compared to every other woman doing the same thing, and she doesn’t want to take part in that ridiculous competition.

I am totally with her on this. I have spent an embarrassing amount of my time worrying about how I look compared to other people. And by the time you get to 30, you actually have a pretty good idea. I know what to do with my face to look how I want to look in a photograph and that if I’m caught doing anything else, I will look either miserable, mad or a perfect combination of the two. I too have made a decision about my photo faces and whether you like it or not, they’re the ones I’m going with.

And FYI, for those in pursuit of a good time, I’d recommend a muppet face over a pout any day of the week.

4. We need more honest depictions of what it’s actually like to be a woman

Caitlin spoke about watching TV and reading magazines when she was younger and just not seeing herself represented. Not seeing words and stories about women which she could look at and say – yes, that’s me. And I know exactly what she means. It is a rare treat to come across a book or an article that really feels like an honest reflection of what it’s like to be a woman. It’s why work by Lena Dunham, Tina Fey, Amy Poehler, Bridget Christie, Caitlin Moran and co. are all so important – because they have all found ways to speak about what it really feels like to be women and to reassure us that it’s totally normal to find it hard.

I try to do this with the things I write too. I love writing about the trivialities of being a woman, the immense humour in it, the precious relationships we have with one another, and the difference between what we think we’re supposed to be versus what we actually are. I am more inspired than ever to keep doing just that.

There was so much more to last night but in the interests of word count, I will stop now. I am so very excited to read Moranifesto and all the hundreds of other lessons I’m sure are waiting for me in there.

Thanks Caitlin Moran, Women of the World Festival and the Southbank Centre for a great evening. If only it could be International Women’s Day every day…