Tag Archives: humor


It’s been a while since I last blogged. And naturally, it’s all Alex’s fault. 

It was her idea to start watching Game of Thrones from start to finish. And after we watched the first episode, she was a changed person. Gone was the happy, hippy mother who lovingly tucked in her children at night and sent them off gently to sleep with kisses and cuddles. Instead, I would return home from work to a lady with the remote control in her hand, and a demonic look in her eye. A look that said “Get these fuckers to bed and stick the box on, stat”. 

Six seasons later, we’re now done with G.O.T and we’re having to find other ways to avoid talking to each other. Hence the blog revival.  Continue reading Drive.


Live and dangerous.

*Warning: this post may contain nuts (and other genitals).*

Continue reading Live and dangerous.

13 things I miss about the UK.

I’ve just got back from a couple of weeks in London. While I was there, I binged on Britain – I drank in every pub, ate in every tea room, lined up in every job centre.

It was my first trip back, and I was surprised by the things I’d missed. Here they are.

Continue reading 13 things I miss about the UK.

Bowl in the Bay.

Super Bowl is this Sunday and it’s a big freaking deal.

This year it’s being played at Levi’s Stadium, right here in the Bay Area, so Americans in our near vicinity are even more excitable than usual. In total, it’s expected that more than 120million people will tune in, just to catch a glimpse of Janet Jackson’s nipple.

But what is the Super Bowl, and why is the biggest prize in American Football named after a serving dish? Surely you want a trophy to have gravitas, not gravy…

Continue reading Bowl in the Bay.

Five ways to meet women.

I met Alex 10 years ago.

When I realised I was punching above my weight, I proposed. We married, had kids, and argued over which traits they picked up from us (good looks and playfulness – Alex; bad eyesight and skin allergies – me).

Continue reading Five ways to meet women.

What it boils down to.

This is our kettle. God it’s awful.

Just look at it.

With its stuck-up spout and pretentious double handle that’s too hot to lift without an oven glove.

It doesn’t even have a measure on the side to let you know how many cups it will make. It just arrogantly expects you to know by sight.

And it’s annoying. So annoying. When it’s done, it’s just dying to let you know with a high-pitched whistle. “Oooooh look at me everybody, I’ve boiled the water AND I’m shrieking”. Frickin’ show-off.

Continue reading What it boils down to.

16 things we’ve learned about life in the US.

Today is exactly 6 months since we left the UK.

In that time, Alex has taken up running, Daisy has tantrummed in some of the biggest public spaces in Northern California, and Ava has turned into a walking, talking all-American kid. Me? The main change I’ve noticed is that I wear white socks more than I used to, without worrying about my street cred.

Here’s the 16 things we’ve learned since we got here…  Continue reading 16 things we’ve learned about life in the US.

Christmas. But not as I know it.

So, um, Christmas Day was a little different this year.

We took the kids out for a walk in Santa Cruz, stopping at the harbour to eat raisin bread. And then we spent the rest of the day at Twin Lakes beach. The beach. On Christmas Day. As you do.

Continue reading Christmas. But not as I know it.

Dancing with salesmen.

I still remember my first slow dance.

It was at the Excel summer camp disco, circa 1992. During the day the boys had all decided who we’d go for, so when the evening rolled around, it was just a matter of plucking up the courage. She was a 7, and I was a 6 at best. I was punching above my weight and I knew it – but a bunch of her friends had already been asked to dance, and I figured she didn’t want to be the last one standing. So, I took a deep breath and asked her to dance. She half-shrugged/half-nodded, and then we quickly assumed the position: my hands on her hips, hers on my shoulders. As we moved woodenly from side to side, I spent the duration of the song trying not to stare at her chest. Which was tricky, given how bloody tall she was.

Continue reading Dancing with salesmen.

Let’s go outside.

We’ve been here 10 days and the learning curve is steep.

There’s more than a few things I need to write about. But first it’s this: George Michael is misunderstood.

In 1998, he was arrested in a public lavatory in a Beverly Hills park, for allegedly committing a lewd act. But now I’ve visited a number of public toilets in California myself, I’ve discovered the truth. He was loitering simply because they’re so damn good, in every possible way.

Reason one: Disposable seat covers.

If you’re in a public convenience in the UK and you want to drop the kids off, you need to have mastered the art of levitation. Over here, you just lift up a seat cover, pull it down and sit. A smile is optional, but usually difficult to avoid at this point.

Reason two: Toilet paper.

I’m yet to find a public loo without an abundance of toilet paper. And not the scratchy, primary school tracing paper-kind either. No more panic as you reach the halfway stage. No more frantic searching for alternatives. Just an anxiety-free sit down. And that’s why they call it a restroom.

Reason three: Soap.

Actual soap! In a public toilet! It amazes me every time. And when I reach the sink I find myself shaking my head in wonder. I’m just grateful that’s all I do.

Reason four: Dryers that dry.

There’s nothing worse than a crap hand dryer, when it feels like someone is slowly breathing warm air on your hands. But this is the super strength, all-powerful, mother of all dryers. The one that projects a blue or red circle in your palm, like a sniper’s target. It’s a great game to end the whole experience – how long can you keep your hands there before you suffer irreversible skin damage? I’ve laughed maniacally out loud once at this, but now I tend to keep my adrenaline on the down low.

So there you have it – you’ve just read a blog about public toilets. Hopefully it’s not been a crappy use of your time.