My mam once told me that she wakes up and she’s 18. Then she tries to get out of bed and she’s 80. I know what she means – some days I wake up and I still feel I should be heading off to sixth form. Which is why I spent a half hour squealing on the swings in the local playground last week. (It was Mr 50 Cents fault as he was pushing me too high.)
So how do you know when you’re getting old? Well, I’ve discovered that there are some subtle signs to watch out for… Continue reading “15 signs you’re getting old”
I rarely get a seat on my morning – or evening – commute. I join the train late in its journey and the seats are all filled with businessmen, heads down looking busily at their phones or bashing away on their laptops, legs spread wide and elbows at sharp angles.
It never bothers me usually – but then comes the period. And when Keith Moon is belting out his greatest hits on my ovaries and I’m desperately clinging onto a pole trying to stay upright and I’m praying for the drugs to kick in, I hate feminism.
Continue reading “Feminism’s true winners – men”