Out With The Old and In With The New

"Happy New Year?" we said to each other, it was more of a question than a statement. We were only halfway through the Graham Norton New Year's Eve special when fireworks and the sound of the Spanish cheering surrounded the house. We had somewhat overlooked the fact that while we watched English T.V on English time, we were an hour ahead. "Happy new year," we said again completely dumbstruck and unprepared.
"Shall we get the next one?" my mother said without anticipation as if the turning of the year was like waiting for a bus.


The endless traditons confuse me, eating grapes at midnight, haggis the next day, no washing up in fear of washing away the new year's luck. As absurd as they are they tend to make things a bit more lively, and that's never a bad thing. The one we all tend to stick to is the New Year's Resolution. Or as my father would call it, a special new year's wish, his inability to remember what a new year's resolution is called spans way beyond all comprehension... though he makes a good point. It is more of a wish than a resolution, like a wish the likelyhood of it coming true is slim.

I decided against making a New Year's Resolution this year but chose a mantra instead. Simply be optimistic. The resolutions we make are always so specific and often negative. Lose weight. Stop drinking. Go to the gym. I think if we really want these things they'll come naturally. A resolution isn't going to change that much, I always break mine within the first week. Saying that, if you have made a New Year's Resoluton, do your best to stick to it. If you made it, you made it for a reason.

Happy New Year, I have a feeling it'll be a good one.

Raise Your Glass

Today, Christmas Eve, at Midday I awoke on the kitchen floor with an open bottle of red wine beside me. It took me quite a few moments to figure out exactly how this had happened and despite the temptation to jump to the conclusion that I had a heavy evening the night before what in fact happened wasn't quite so debaucherous.


Whilst cooking our festive ham Lee and I treated ourselves to half a glass of the expensive wine my parents gave to us for Christmas, we then left it on top of the oven to 'let it breathe'. This morning whilst on all fours scrubbing the oven to get it spotless for Christmas day I found myself taking a blow to the head...

Luckily we only lost a splash of the wine, we'll be raising a glass of that wine to our friends, our family, and of course all of my readers and the bruise on my forehead tomorrow over Christmas dinner. What injuries will you be raising a glass to this Christmas?



Merry Christmas.
Love Cal. x

Being Naked for Christmas

With Christmas fast approaching I’ve considered the possibilities of going naked for Christmas- and no, sadly, I don’t mean taking all of my clothes off and sitting by the Christmas tree. As fun as that might be I think it might be disrespectful to the spirit of the festivities.



I’m talking stripping down the costs of Christmas and indulging in the holiday spirit without spending a penny. Over the years, perhaps even long before my time Christmas has become increasingly more and more consumerist. The Christmas presents, wrapping paper, cards, food… the list goes on. Although it is nice to spend that little bit extra to make Christmas extra special sometimes we can be a little frivolous around the holiday season. The tag line for Christmas shopping has always been guilt free shopping, I don’t always feel that though, when spending money I don’t necessarily have to spare on loved ones I still have a niggling feeling of guilt lodged in the back of my mind.

I adore Christmas, and I even love all those consumerist bits and bobs that go along with it, but I’m pretty sure I could strip it all away and still have an enjoyable Christmas. My parents came over to visit from Spain recently and as we sat around watching T.V we shook our heads in disbelief as we watched a middle aged couple complaining about the economic climate; complaining that this year they wouldn’t be celebrating Christmas at all due to money issues. They went on to show how upset the couple were about the whole thing, showing the empty wall where the Christmas décor would usually hang. I found the whole thing absurd.

I understand the financial difficulties we have in this country at the minute, I even suffer them myself, however I don’t think that is a reason to completely write off Christmas. The aforementioned couple had a large house with expensive looking furniture and trinkets: I couldn’t understand why they needed to not celebrate Christmas to get by. They could still hang their Christmas decorations; they wouldn’t even have to turn on the Christmas lights if they wanted to save on electricity. They could play a board game or watch some Christmas T.V. Spending under £5 they could each buy each other a bar of chocolate or similar, wrap it, put it under the Christmas tree and have a mince pie. It just takes a little imagination.

I think it’s shocking that Christmas has become so much about money that people in difficult money situations believe they can’t celebrate it. Are people forgetting the nativity story entirely? I’m pretty sure Mary and Joseph weren’t rolling around in fifty pound notes.

Splashing out is always nice during the festive season, as long as we remember it’s not a necessity. Often when we have less money we are a lot more thoughtful with our present buying since we can’t spend a fortune on extravagant gifts and wrapping. It’s something worth bearing in mind while you’re doing your last minute Christmas shop.

Truly Madly Deeply

If you never got a chance to see me and Lee in Attitude Magazine, then look no further!

One Rule

Everything is fair game between my friend LJW and I, she texts me inappropriate things and I reciprocate, she compares me to Liza Minnelli and I compare her to Dawn French. It's a two way street.

There is however, one situation where things get SERIOUS.

That is when a glass of coke and a laptop is involved. "I've got one rule!" I bellowed as she set her glass of coke down next to my new laptop. "No drinks near the computer!" she moved her drink to a safe spot before laughing at me and proceeded to mock my one rule with a serious voice for the following few weeks.

On one Saturday night, as she set down her mug of tea next to my laptop, I shot her a dirty look and said "One rule LJW! One rule!" I lifted up my laptop and set it aside away from the mug of tea.

While she proceeded to mock me she reached for her tea and knocked it half way across the room, hot tea spilling everywhere.

"And that is why I have one rule," I told her as I began cleaning the tea up from the carpet, the t.v, the sofa, the table and both of my legs.

In case you hadn't noticed, LJW and I have a podcast: Having a Trauma. Pop over to the Audio page to have a listen or listen to our latest podcast below.

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Christmas Tradition

It’s been a while since I last posted, what with it being the X Factor final and all, I found my schedule a little full. – It’s the most important event on the calendar people- what I’m going to do with my Saturday and Sunday nights from now on is anyone’s guess. I don’t think everybody quite understands the passion my dear friend LJW and I have for X Factor: as we watch X Factor, then the Xtra Factor and then stay up all night googling Aiden Grimshaw, Wagner and One Direction while everyone else is pleading to go to bed, we remain fascinated.

All that business aside, I’ve realised as of late how detailed different people’s Christmases are. The traditional things drilled into us year after year by our families make us incredibly unique. Our American friend didn’t know what a mince pie was, to which I shouted at her- oops. Mince pies to me were quintessentially Christmassy, without them I don’t know what I’d do: eat a chocolate Yule log, probably.

There are many things that make my Christmas complete, from the Coca-Cola advert on the tele and burning down the advent candle. A stocking on Christmas day and some sort of family film in the evening. Without these things Christmas just wouldn’t be Christmas.

What I do find interesting though, is how my own Christmas traditions clash with Lee’s Christmas traditions. We were questioned just the other day at why we didn’t have a star or an angel atop the Christmas tree. We explained that I had to have a star and Lee had to have an angel so as to not start an argument we had neither.


Then there’s our Christmas dinner, I have to have ham and turkey where Lee has to have sausage meat, I have to have croquettes and Lee has to have parsnips. It’s a trauma, but I indulge in it, the more diverse our Christmas is the more exciting it becomes.

Embracing all of these Christmas traditions, introduced to us by family, friends and partners make our Christmases that extra bit special, and I for one welcome any new additions.

Then again, do you remember that advert with The Spice Girls the other year? Lobster for Christmas dinner... I threw my shoe at the T.V.

Have your shoe at the ready.

Shafted by a Redhead

The streets being covered in ice, although a little annoying (Oo, hypocrite), does provide a picturesque and eventful walk to and from university. Yesterday, as I made my way up an incredibly icy slope, I found myself staring at an incredibly attractive boy walking ahead of me. I noticed that his shoe laces were untied and although my mother taught me to never cavort with boys with untied shoe laces, his biceps were impossible to resist. He looked like one of The Wanted boys, but better…

You read correctly. Better than this.

I watched intently as I waddled along the ice, trying to keep up, watching his shoe laces flick upwards as he skidded about on the ice. Inevitably he eventually tripped over his laces, skidded around for a few moments and then collided with the floor with an almighty heavy thud.

I noticed a beautiful red-headed girl walking towards us, she had seen him slip too; we were thinking the exact same thing. I looked at her, she looked at me. It was a race to help the good looking man up off of the ice. Breaking into a slight run I glared at her menacingly, I slipped and skidded, my legs went in opposite directions, but I didn’t slow down. I must have resembled a rabid Bambi as I approached the terrified looking boy lying on his side on the ice.

“Alright mate?” I said in my best straight man voice and offered him my hand. I was slightly out of breath. He grimaced and batted my hand away, trying to help himself up. He got to his feet and toppled straight back down onto his firm buttocks – yes, I had noticed- I offered him my hand again, reluctantly he took it, mumbling something beneath his breathe.

The red headed girl looked at me annoyed. I pursed my lips at her. As I passed her she smirked at me and I swear to god slipped on the ice on purpose: I didn’t help her up.

Surely enough the boy with the large biceps ran to her aid and helped her up. They both laughed about it and obviously formed an instant intimate bond. As I looked at the sunlight shining over the houses I literally, and bitterly, watched them walk off into the sunset.

“Bitch,” I mumbled under my breathe- and that is why I owe my apologies to the red head. Who am I to interfere with your rom-com moment? Lindsay Lohan will be there to play you in due course. I’ll be played by Stanley Tucci. And the boy? Ashton Kutcher or similar no doubt. I’d like to name the film ‘Shafted by a Redhead’ – Sounds a little pornographic, but I think it fits. Don’t you?

Just remember next time you take a tumble on the ice, stay possitive. A muscle bound boy, or a sassy beautiful redhead may be on their way to help you up.