Last week, someone told me I was "too positive." And it wasn't the first time. Over the years, people have told me I smile too much. They've asked, "Why are you always so happy?" or "Why are you always smiling?" One woman even stopped me in a shop once to tell me I reminded her of a fairy. I still have absolutely no idea what she meant by that. I remember working in a little café by the beach back in my hometown. One morning, a customer looked at me and said, "I've never seen

I had an epiphany in the shower this evening. But before I tell you about it, let me tell you about the day that led up to it. I woke up at seven. My boyfriend and I parted ways at the crosswalk with a kiss before I stopped at one of my favourite coffee shops for coffee and something sweet. On the way to work, I listened to the voicemail my sister had left me and read a chapter of my book. At work, my kids were chattier than usual. I had to use my grumpy voice a few times. At

When I was little, I was fearless. I sang in a band, had a tight-knit group of friends, and wore homemade horse-print pants my mum sewed for me. I knew exactly who I was, and I wore that girl proudly. But then I went to high school, and my self esteem and confidence crumbled like a dry sand castle on a windy beach. Suddenly, I was at that brutal age where self-image felt like everything. Sandals weren’t cool, homemade clothes definitely weren’t cool, and standing out suddenly

The other night, Liam said something that stopped me. “Isn’t it funny how we’re always counting down the weeks?” he said. I laughed at first, not really sure what he meant, until he added, “If we’re lucky enough to live until 80, that means we only have about two thousand weeks left.” Two thousand weeks. I went quiet. The number unsettled me, mostly because lately I have been very guilty of living for the weekend. Especially in winter, when the grey fog crawls over London lik

Visualise this: a tiny coastal town 500km north of the closest city. A single general store with a handful of salt-worn beach shacks and a couple of fishing boats lining the horizon. Not exactly the place you picture spending your mid-twenties. But alas, this is where I lived with my rescue cat, and a constant supply of gin to blur the loneliness I refused to acknowledge. But now picture London: a city bursting at the seams, where noise is constant and everything is always i

There’s a quote I heard a while back that I’ve never forgotten: The person who doesn’t read lives only one life, but the person who reads lives a thousand. They say a picture says a thousand words, but a book lets you experience the words. The following is a compilation of books that kept me up at night, and not just because I couldn't stop reading them. Everyone has different tastes and experiences when it comes to reading, and we all have those stories that linger long aft

This weekend, I planned to write a blog about my top European destinations so far. But when my fingers hit the keyboard and I began describing the sunny beaches of Korčula Island (while watching the London rain scatter down the window) I couldn’t help but feel the weight of post-holiday blues. Suddenly, the Sunday Scaries felt a whole lot scarier. I hadn’t even heard the term “Sunday Scaries” until a few months ago, but when I did, I related deeply. Essentially, it means you

This is for anyone standing on the edge of change — the “should I?” phase of moving abroad. It’s not doubt you’re feeling, it’s a...

For a long time, I chased the wrong things. I believed that if I just ticked the right boxes: money, plans, approval, love… then I’d...