World War II – Won by a Woman

The Tomboy Beginnings

If you’ve read about my relationship with Wicket, my gorgeous owl, you may have gathered I’m not the most feminine of women.

From a young age, my parents tried their hardest to create the perfect girlie. It didn’t really work out that way. My personal interpretation was that when you have a Catholic grandfather who has nine brothers and almost all those brothers have sons (only one daughter among them), and those sons have sons, it’s a scheme that’s bound to fail.

So there I was, four years old, stealing my brother’s Transformers, stashing them in a Barbie satchel, and heading out to find the nearest climbable tree so I could sit in its branches and play for a while without my brother moaning that I’ve nicked his stuff again. And, of course, before my mother could start shrieking about either her missing daughter, or the daughter up the tree who was about to kill herself. The latter is always foresight, in her case. It would go something like this: “She’s going to die! I can see it, it’s going to happen!”

I was young and the only thing I could think was, “Oh my god, why didn’t they tell me this morning I was going to die? I would have taken Starscream too!” (more…)


Owls About That!

A Falconer’s Apprentice

On and off, for about a year, I worked as a volunteer for a falconry centre. My first outing was somewhat memorable.

The birds lived a two hour drive south. The show was to be a two day event, about an hour’s drive north. Our logic told us that we should take a couple of sleeping bags and camp out to save ourselves getting home late and up early. When we asked the event hosts, they exchanged worried looks and slowly nodded. We didn’t understand why the reluctance; not until we went for an evening stroll after being locked in for the night and discovered we were sleeping in a cemetery. (more…)

A. N. Wilson and the Silver Spoon

I’m making a sweeping generalisation in my suggestion that the Daily Mail’s favourite spiller of bile and guts is a a Tory-supporting little tosser born into money. I’m very much aware of this.

I’d like to think I’ve at least been raised the right way by my (Tory-supporting) parents. Like the average run-of-the-mill newsy-type with zero actual news or sports to report on these days, I’m Circumstantially Prejudiced. (more…)

RIP 30, Hope, and my Feminine Right to Trousers

Okay, so I’m not a character in a DC comic. I guarantee if I were, it’d be the most boring character in the storyline. Check out Wonder Woman – she comes from Paradise with no formal qualifications yet immediately gets a position of relative power. And she has an invisible plane. Even I have better qualifications. Maybe my chances will increase if I get a lasso…

Yesterday was my birthday. This time last year I was being asked, “Have you managed to achieve everything you wanted to by the age of 30?” I hadn’t thought about it until that moment. She perhaps thought that was a really awesome and enlightened question. I ended up beneath my desk, rocking like a lunatic as I sucked my thumb and shed a tear while the candles burnt down into the chocolate cake. (more…)

Reality TV = The Apocalypse

It’s my belief that there’s a direct correlation between Global Warming and reality TV.

It’s no big secret that I don’t watch reality TV. It’s not realistic. The Only Way Is Essex is a true-life depiction of the portion of Essex where nobody wants to know, which featured at least one person who laughably thought of himself as being a big-time gangster. Or, to give it the Essex spelling, ‘gangsta’. Of course, those are the things you won’t hear about until you know the people who know the people he tried desperately to act big. God bless the rough types! (more…)

We Won’t Learn from Amanda Todd

We all make mistakes. It’s something we do to assist us in our growth.  You’re either strong enough to take it, or you aren’t. That’s a fact of life.

Amanda Todd was punished for a webcam show. She flashed someone, that was all. For that, the man she flashed stalked her, sending pictures of her to everywhere he could, making her life a living hell.

Let me tell you something about this type of girl. I could have been her. (more…)