Long to rain over us: why rain is sometimes pretty wonderful

Rain has a bad reputation. It is the ruiner of barbecues, outdoor weddings and once immaculate hairstyles. Many artists have turned it into a metaphor for horrible, soul-crushing sadness. It's hard to hold a candle in it in cold November. Don't leave cakes out in it. The 15 July, St Swithin's Day, is even dedicated to determining whether we're going to have to put up with 40 more days of it.

But really, everyone, most of the time it's not all that bad. Here's a short tribute to the stuff that got Gene Kelly singin'.

You get to wear wellies
While everyone else is doing the oh-shit-I'm-wearing-Uggs two step around all the puddles, you, the master of the weather, stride confidently through them, feeling like the genius you are. And some even have jelly bean designs.

It is the bringer of rainbows
The symbol of wonderful institutions such as peace and Pride and Skittles only exists because of rain.

It inspires human resourcefulness
Rain is nature's version of a surprise quiz, designed to see who on our streets can handle this bonus obstacle. Faced with a rainstorm, people are forced to get creative. Will you cover up with a free newspaper and be scrubbing ink off your hands for days? Will you sacrifice 5p to rig up a fetching plastic bag head scarf? Or are you going to just make a run for it, as if you can outpace the weather? Total Wipeout for the masses.

We suddenly have something to talk about
'Horrible weather isn't it?' 'Did you hear that storm last night?' 'It's a bit damp outside!' are considered riveting conversational openers in Britain.

Sometimes it understands you
I don't want to walk through brilliant sunshine, surrounded by singing birds and smug daffodils when I'm feeling enraged. I want moody rock video, mascara-smudging, hair-drenching, splashing-off-the-pavement rain. Call it pathetic fallacy if you will, but I'm not ashamed.

You finally get to use the umbrella you've been lugging around
They called you paranoid but who's laughing now? You can get three, maybe three and a half, uses out of this thing before it surrenders to the wind and snaps like an After Eight, so you're not missing an opportunity to get it out. Plus some even have jelly bean designs.

It's sexy
Books and movies and TV shows aren't just using rain to show us that their characters are deeply emotionally perturbed at how things turned out. How many times have writers sat around agonising over the missing quality to make that romantic climax scene really work and suddenly thought, 'I know - we'll add rain!' It makes sense: we know they've got to really want that snog if they're willing to get soaked to the skin for it.

No, it's not The Notebook. Yes, that is a cat.

Pavements look ridiculously good in rain
Not just because it washes the layer of crap off them, either. Street lamps glimmer and gleam like a light show beneath your feet. Here's the photographic version.

It clears the streets quicker than a tiger on the loose
Goodbye, pesky slow-moving tourists and families with five children spread across the pavement. Hello intrepid rain lovers, charging through the water with purpose. Just be sure to dodge the umbrellas.

There's that magical 'smell after the rain'
I vaguely remember the air smelling better after a good old rainstorm, but that was before I moved to London, where it always smells vaguely like the colour grey.

It's better than snow
Take all your issues with rain, freeze them, and let them linger around for a week before turning to brown mush. Feel like hugging a raindrop yet?

It makes being inside that much better
You won't appreciate the sheer joy of being dry and warm and drinking tea until you've got a storm to compare it against.

How to jaywalk, by an expert

Not how it's done

In 2002, tracksuits with ‘BABE’ on the butt were cool, S Club 7 were still in the charts, and the US Army raised a few eyebrows when they released a first person shooter video game as a recruitment tool.

I was never good at shooter games. I was good at that game Toad. When game consoles were the size of your face and made up of just a few pixels, the aim of this game was to get your ‘toad’ (a square) across the road by moving into spaces before the cars (rectangles) reached you. So instead of becoming a solider, I became a jaywalker.

My personality suits jaywalking – i.e. navigating the road on my terms, rather than being dictated to by crossings and lights. I am very impatient. I don’t like being told what to do. I’m decisive. I walk alone a lot. And I’m often running just behind schedule enough that waiting a whole minute at the side of an empty road will switch me from bang-on-time to actually late.

I’m not here to tell you to start jaywalking: that would be against the blogger’s code of responsibility to readers. It’s not illegal in Britain, but then neither are fireworks or teaching yourself how to do backflips on the home trampoline or piercing your own ears. But like all these things, if you have a sneaking suspicion that you might not be very good at it, you probably shouldn’t try it. And if you are going to do it, do it like a boss.

Family members, fiancé and future medical insurers: stop reading now. For everyone else, here’s how to jaywalk.

Be gazelle
You may be a sloth in your resting life, but when you are crossing the road, you are a gazelle. Think gazelle. Be gazelle.

Gazelles know that crossing a road is not the time to check your phone/stare at the sky/tie your shoelace/read just one more page of your book. Have you ever seen a gazelle pausing to check Google maps while it’s springing across the savanna?

You need to be focussed on moving across that treacherous river without being snapped up by a crocodile. By which I mean getting over the road without being knocked down by a lunatic on a Deliveroo bike. Save the cat video for your lunchbreak, or wait for the green man.

Always check the side roads
Side road traffic is like love and periods and cravings for new potatoes: it appears when you least expect it, with potentially dramatic results. Even if you’ve walked across the same road every day, always check there is nothing coming. One day there will be and it won’t hit you because you remembered this rule, and you will feel a weird sense of pride, relief and invincibility.

Be decisive
You’ve done the necessary calculations and decided you can make it. Go now: another half a second and the car crawling along 10 metres away has found the accelerator and you have to re-evaluate the whole thing.

Never follow a stranger over the road
Like the adult version of stranger danger. Even if they look like they have this jaywalking thing down to an art (and it is an art, darling), don’t follow them. They could be high or unfamiliar with the concept of cars or just an idiot. Plus they’re only looking out for themselves – you follow them two seconds later and the situation has changed. You are the master of your own fate. Yes, you. Not that guy strolling confidently in front of the No. 76 without a care in the world.

Drivers have feelings too
Yes, the rumours are true: drivers are actually human and they need to get somewhere as well. Take advantage of a momentarily clear road and sloooow vehicles, but don’t walk out when they’re accelerating towards a green light and expect them to stop. And save ‘Hey, I’m walking here!’ for moments of justified outrage.

Learn to read traffic
With focus, study and practice you can become a Jedi of the road. Or a Sith, if that’s what you’re into. That driver isn’t indicating, but have all the other cars ahead of them turned towards you? Which way are they spinning the wheel? How long does it take for the lights to go green after the red man has appeared? It becomes a big puzzle you get to piece together.

Crossings are a conspiracy
I’m going to destroy everything you believed about society, the nature of the universe and the order of life. Don’t bother pressing the button at most pedestrian crossings. Like the ‘close doors’ button in lifts, most are put there just to make us feel like we have some control over our lives. Don’t buy into the lie. Truth is beauty. Ugly, sad, twisted beauty. Instead, find the nearest CCTV camera and stare accusingly.

Buses are slow
Although the phrase ‘What happens if you get hit by a bus tomorrow?’ is often used to force people to consider their own mortality, they are far from the being the scariest vehicles on the road. They're like Great White sharks: they're big and tough up close, but this hyperawareness also means you’re more likely to avoid them. Of course you should still look out for them, but it's hard to overlook something bright red that accelerates at the speed of a morbidly obese walrus and stops every 100 metres.

Beware professional drivers
Taxi and van drivers’ livelihoods depend on getting through traffic. They therefore have no tolerance for anyone else being on the road. It can appear that they are playing a game of human bowling, in which you are the pins. Some will accelerate straight at you. They are most likely to beep and shout wildly unimaginative swear words. Treat them with the caution you would grant to a rabid dog on speed who has spotted you wearing Lady Gaga’s meat dress.

Think bike
If you’re crossing between cars stuck bonnet to trunk in a traffic jam, always, always, check that there’s not a Lycra-clad speed demon weaving through the middle or up the side.

Cycling in London is scary, which means that some cyclists see themselves as gladiators pitched against everyone else on the road. They will not deign to inform us which way they plan to veer off to next. Red lights and one way streets and laws about riding on the pavement do not apply to them.

To avoid getting a spoke through your leg, listen out for the sinister sound of spinning wheels and for the bells they're constantly hammering away at, in the manner of a crazed priest announcing a coronation or a wedding. And stay as far away from anyone on a Boris bike as you can without actually leaving the city.

And motorbike
Motorcyclists are more vigilant but also more dangerous if you’re a pedestrian. Not only are many willing to weave into any space they can get into, regardless of who’s currently filling it, but they have the acceleration to change a road crossing situation before you can say Hell’s Angels.

Choose life
The aim of the game is to get across in one piece, which means waiting for the right time, even if that takes swallowing your pride and letting the red traffic light usher you across. You won’t reach your destination feeling like you beat the man and the tourists and the whole damn system, but you will get there, which is more important. Apparently.

Knowing, loving and losing my grandparents, 14 years apart

Gramps and I, December 2008

Things I remember about my grandma’s death. She died 13 days before my eleventh birthday, in November 2001. She’d started having headaches in about September. I remember because it was around the time of 9/11, and the combination of events made it seem like there was this sombre shadow over the world.

She was in hospital from about October. I remember sitting in the waiting room in Watford General. There was a vending machine that served what I thought was the world’s greatest hot chocolate. It was the kind made with hot water, which formed these little lumps you could scoop out with your finger and bite into to release a burst of sugared chocolate powder. I would take this full-scale stuffed toy dog with me every time we went. It was a Yorkshire terrier (non-dog speakers’ translation: little, long hair, yippy).

I remember the smell. It must have been a certain brand of disinfectant that smelled forcibly clean. It wasn’t overpowering or heavy, but it seeped through the air and into your clothes and into my grandma, pushing out her usual scent of cardigans and walks in fields and cigarettes.

I was only 10 and no one I was so close to had died before. I believed she was going to get better with the same level of helpless faith that I had in God with a capital G and true love and my parents always being right. Every time the adults had one of their conversations in low, worried tones, peppered with medical terms and the phrase ‘brain tumour’, I maintained that simple expectation that she would be fine. Of course she would be fine. I knew they were all worried, but my belief never faltered.

I can tell you the exact place I was sitting when my mum told us that she was going to die. I was in the back right seat of her Ford Mondeo. My sister was in the passenger seat, my brother was next to me. We were going round a bend on the A404, at the point where you can take a right and go to this tiny village that is basically just a pub and some bored sheep. She said, ‘You do know that Grandma isn’t going to get better?’ None of us answered, but it felt like something I’d put high on a shelf fell off and shattered. I could hear Claire sobbing in the front.

So I only had 10 and a bit years with my grandma. I remember her short grey hair and her big round glasses, which she was always pushing up the bridge of her nose. I remember she made really good tents out of bedsheets and read us stories about teddy bears going to a haunted house and let us run through their tiny bungalow and jump on the bed like little maniacs. I remember her long floral skirts. I remember the taste of her ham sandwiches: airy white bread, olive spread, and ham sliced to this certain thickness, all cut into squares. I remember long walks and feeding ducks and the time this swan went for me (they are seriously vicious bastards) and she stepped right between us, put her finger up and said, ‘No.’ You bet that swan backed the hell off.

I sometimes wonder what our relationship would have been like if she’d known me through all my teenage years and as an adult. Those are the tough ones, after all, the ones where your generational differences start to show and you have to find the balance between needing them and loving them all the time, and reminding them that you are your own person, capable of surviving away from them and making your own life decisions.

Life changed for us all after Grandma Diz died. We all called her Dizzy, but her actually rather excellent name was Audrey Beryl May. I learned that the world isn’t fair, in the way that kids only really learn things when bad stuff happens to them. Meanwhile, in grown up world, my dad and aunt had lost their mother and my grandad was coping with losing the love of his life.

I won’t pretend that I remember what my grandparents’ marriage was like, because as I said before, I was under 11 the entire time, and mostly concerned with my Anastasia Barbie and the fate of the Spice Girls. But I remember my grandad on the day of the funeral. He looked lost. Like someone who’d been dropped in a desert and left to navigate his way out alone, with no compass or map to help.

Slowly and with lots of help from my aunt and Dad, he put together a life. At first, he would still pick my sister and I up from school on a Tuesday. I would make us both tea – his very strong, one Sweetex – and we’d have to sit and try to make conversation across this enormous gap of experience and age.

A lot of people, including both my parents, several employers and café customers, have bemoaned my tea-making skills. But never Gramps.

So I went through my awkward teenage years with my quiet, withdrawn grandad instead of my lively, fun-loving grandma. He wasn’t a great conversationalist, especially not with a 13 year old girl. I would avoid talking about her for fear of upsetting him. These conversations were tricky, but I did learn about his life.

He was in the army doing national service, and was stationed in Italy at one point. He was a crack shot and won a medal in a shooting competition, but he couldn’t afford to keep it up after leaving. He worked in a metal workshop – he was very good at shaping it into whatever he wanted. He needed a constant supply of Wine Gums. He was the kind of loyal Arsenal fan who wouldn’t shout at the TV but just stick out the rough and smooth with determined faith. When he was younger he enjoyed playing football, and he was still into golf and snooker, but those things gradually left him when the call of the armchair in the bungalow he had shared with Grandma became more appealing than a bustling snooker hall.

What was most welcoming was that Gramps was not one of those people fiercely clinging on to outdated values purely because they can’t accept the world has changed. He lived in a sort of bubble, with two TVs and the curtains drawn. He wasn’t interested enough in the world to judge people beyond whether they were hurting others or not. I never heard him say anything racist or homophobic. His motto was ‘Each to their own’, even if he couldn’t quite make sense of the ins and outs of things.

Yes, he could be difficult, and his waning interest in leaving the house and life beyond knowing the lottery numbers, Arsenal score and that we were all OK was frustrating, especially for people who did a lot for him with very little thanks. He was stubborn and tactless, often telling me that he didn’t have much to say and he did nothing all day. Not the greatest conversation starters. But that makes it all the more touching that he did push aside the fog of gloom that descended when Grandma died in order to call us just to say hello.

He’d had headaches and neck pains and emphysema for many years, which made breathing and moving difficult. He still got washed and dressed every day, even if it was just to lie on his bed. His hearing was good enough to listen to a conversation, and it was only in the last few months over Christmas that he became forgetful and confused to a worrying degree. I got to tell him that I’m getting married, which he was delighted about. In January we found out that he had an infection in his pacemaker, which could possibly be treated but would result in reduced mobility. Ultimately, it was the combination of this and an intense hip operation that finally wore him down, and he died at around 8pm on 20 January.

I had an idyllic child’s relationship with Grandma Diz that never had to overcome divided opinions or tension or the strain of miscommunication. And I also feel privileged to have got to know my grandad’s white haired self, as well as a snapshot of him in his prime, over the years when our age gaps made communicating that much harder. He might not have been perfect, but he was him, and that was enough. And I will miss him for being perfectly, imperfectly himself.

The mandatory New Year's resolutions post: my plans for self-improvement and not getting scurvy

Most people don't make New Year's resolutions. This statement is not based on an official survey or scientific research or even a Google search. I know it because every time I ask someone what theirs is, I get a sigh and a shrug and a flippant, 'Oh I don't bother'.

Given this, writing out a list of stuff to improve feels a bit old fashioned. Plus it's not like I'm striving for World Peace or to end poverty or even to save whales. I feel like that's a bit beyond my skill set, but here are a few things I'd like to polish off that could just happen in 366 days.

Be glamorous
This has been an aim since I saw The Devil Wears Prada. Or Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Or whichever film it was that introduced me to the world of women with perfect hair, a different fabulously stylish outfit in every scene, and eternal non-smudged lipstick.

And handbags. Handbags of glory. Not a huge satchel that pulls your coat out of shape and saves your lower back, but a work of fashion art carefully carved into perfect curves and lines. The kind you have to wear long gloves with and dangle elegantly from the crook of your elbow. How strong are their elbows, anyway? My bag always weighs a ton, even when I think I can’t possibly take anything else out of it and still survive the entire day. There's a law of nature dictates that the one time you don’t bring nail clippers, a torch and an A5 notebook will be the time you need them.

I’ve accepted that I’m not cut out for the truly grown up handbag, so last year, my quick fix to this was resolving to paint my nails more. I achieved this by doing them once, on New Year’s Day, and never again. In 2016, the plan is to become someone who remembers to bring make-up and one of those compact mirrors with me and then actually uses them. I will also stop putting off washing my hair or shaving my legs for another day. Or do a better job of hiding that I have.

Stop eating granola
Sweet, crunchy, nutritionally void wonder food. If it was possible to survive on this stuff, I would eat nothing else. But since scurvy is a thing and sugar is now meant to be the devil we’re all exorcising from our diets, it’s time to find new food groups. Like muesli.

Learn more about what’s going on in Britain
Movies, podcasts, articles and my degree have all conspired to swing my focus to what Americans are up to. I know all the states and capitals and NFL teams and what was in the 14th Amendment but I have no idea how many English counties there are, or how first past the post works, or who won the FA Cup last year. (Was it Chelsea? Fuck, I bet it was Chelsea.)

I’ve looked these things up at relevant times, put them in the Post-It part of my brain, and crumpled them into the bin when whatever made them significant is over. I know, I’m a horrible, ignorant person. Which is why this is on my self-improvement list. That’s the point of New Year’s resolutions: to look at all the disappointing bits about yourself and enforce strict measures to replace them with respectable qualities you can bring up around educated people.

Do yoga
Or just stretch a bit. Then a bit more. Basically, I want to get to 26 and still be able to touch my toes with my legs straight without hearing things creaking, cracking and snapping.

Get through the books on my to-read list

2015 was a terrible reading year for me. I ended up getting stuck in the mire of a book called The Moviegoer because it had a sexy ‘50s Americana-style cover. (See above comment regarding being an America groupie.) Plus how can a book about the cinema be dull?

Merciful. God. It was like going on a date with someone who talks about nothing other than the chemical properties of moss and the bowel movements of their cat Boris, complete with slideshow, then gets distracted by something on the floor. So awful that it puts you off ever agreeing to go out with someone again.

But the months have passed, the year ends in a different digit and it’s time to move on. I have an enormous pile of books with unbent spines and clean pages calling my name, plus my parents, fiancé, bank account and table they’re stored on are silently begging me not to buy any more until I’ve read them. Bring on book nerd-dom.

Be on time
I absolutely can be on time. I’ve never missed a flight because I was late. Or a coach. But that’s about it. I have this incredible ability to underestimate how long it will take me to get somewhere. From now on, I will tell myself to leave 15 minutes before I need to. That way, I’ll only leave 10 minutes late and I might still make it.

Don't fear forms
I hate forms. Everyone hates forms. They’re cold and impersonal but also incredibly nosy. Why do you want to know my birthday? Do I get a card and a balloon? What’s it to you if I’m female or male? What if someone doesn’t identify as either? Why do you need to know about my potential devious criminal past? OK, so you are US Customs. Also I have a million previous addresses, which makes what should be a very easy section a bit of a minefield.

Sadly, I’ve learned that you have to fill them in to get paid for things and do other important life stuff, like go to the doctors and vote and give blood and get married. So I’m moving forms to the top of my to-do pile. No more cleaning the house or finally reading that book instead of doing paperwork. Even if it makes me late.

Write more blog posts
The only New Year’s resolution I have ever stuck rigidly to was writing a diary every night, which I still do. Even if you can only write one or two lines, I would absolutely recommend it. It’s like having a continuous chat between your past and future selves, which is pretty entertaining, especially if you’re falling asleep because that's when the Weird Shit comes out. So I’m applying this discipline to the writing I inflict on the people reading this. After all, this is actually fun for me. If you’ve got this far today, come back next week and see if I’ve managed to make it stick.

Love and sorry and old bananas: 25 things I've learned by 25

Let’s be clear: this list is not the sum total of my knowledge of the world. For starters, I have learned more than one thing a year, and there’s nothing from 16 years of academic education on here. But just for fun, here are some basic truths and not so simple lessons from 25 years as me.

1. Don’t apologise when you don’t need to

As a British woman I got served with a double dose of ‘Please let me apologise profusely for things that aren’t my fault.’ Apologetic words that enable this condition include the obvious ‘sorry,’ plus ‘just’ and ‘only’. Yes, you absolutely need to say sorry when you’ve screwed up, even if you’re terrified that the other person won’t forgive you. But don’t apologise for your existence or for doing your best. Treat these words like morphine: use sparingly so their impact is really felt when it’s needed.

2. Put Vaseline on your heels to stop your shoes rubbing

You’re welcome, poor little ankles. Also, if you’re too lazy to properly remove all your eye makeup before you go to sleep (bonus life lesson: always remove your eye makeup before you go to sleep) you can put just a little bit of Vaseline on your eyelashes and you’ll wake up without that ridiculous black gunk in your eyes.

3. Falling in love is like waking up with superpowers

Suddenly there’s a force within you that makes you want to do things that previously would seem impossible and mad (like scale tall buildings and shoot webs out your wrists and get married). It’s fun and scary and inspiring so make sure you use it to do something good.

4. Being in love requires effort

It’s answering their texts and being somewhere at the time you say you’ll be there, and calmly talking about how you feel when they’re pissing you off so you can work it out, and not holding a grudge. Which all sounds like a ridiculous amount of unpaid labour to the merrily single. The magic trick love performs is that you’re transformed into someone willing to do all that plus unload the dishwasher and overlook the fact they like Top Gear in exchange for the chance to have them around.

5. You can go against people you like

Peers, parents and friends will have expectations for your life, from what you wear to where you work to how often you go out and get hammered to your reproductive adventures. Understand that deciding to go against them might well cause fallout, but you don’t have to live out the narrative someone else has written for you.

6. There’s a right way to carry takeaway coffee cups

With the hole you drink out of facing away from you. It’s a law of nature that coffee is drawn to clothes, especially if you’re wearing something white, new and/or expensive. Which is why they never serve coffee in takeaway cups at weddings.

  

7. Courage doesn’t mean never being scared

To paraphrase Mufasa. It means being able to admit fear and go crashing on with it anyway. Go on that rollercoaster, get that tattoo, watch that movie that had the world’s toughest critic sleeping with the light on for three months. Take the job with the paycut because it’s your dream, ask out that person you’ve been gazing at longingly for two years, seven months, three days and about an hour and thirty minutes. Not everyone is a firefighter running into a burning building but we all have to be brave in tiny and massive ways.

8. Drink lemonade when you have a sore throat

Let it go flat and chug it straight from the bottle. No one will ever believe it works, but as long as you no longer sound like Darth Vader after he’s had a long night of karaoke and cigarettes, who cares?

9. Never brush curly hair

Ignore the books, movies and adverts that show someone brushing out spiralling ringlets. In reality, you will end up looking like Hermione circa The Philosopher’s Stone. It wasn’t magic that fixed her hair for the Yule Ball: it was realising that you should replace that toothy devil device with detangling fingers, good conditioner and a reliable finishing product.

10. Dare to say hi to new people

Yes, chatty strangers can be annoying when you’re tired and you just want to buy oranges without a lengthy discussion about someone’s cat. But sometimes it’s worth plunging into conversation with a total stranger. Sure, they could be dull or racist or creepy but you could also just have a fun one-time chat with an interesting person, or you could even make an awesome friend. Give people a chance and they might surprise you. Yes, that includes Chelsea fans.

11. You don’t have to understand art to enjoy it

You don’t have to know much or even anything about art, as long as you approach it with an open mind. The more you see, the more you’ll know what you like so you can hunt out relevant exhibitions and get stuck into the bits that really grab you. At the very least you’re getting the chance to see how someone else experiences the world, which is fascinating.

12. Always have a pen

At least one. If you think you already have one, pack another one. Just like London taxis, they have a tendency to disappear right when you need them.

13. Always have tampons

It may count as a luxury, but it’s one you don’t want to be caught without.

14. Be kind in love

You can’t love everyone who loves you, and not everyone you want will want you. But be gracious. Treat people’s hearts like fluffy little guinea pigs that need to be handled delicately, even when you know they can’t really belong to you. And not like footballs designed to be kicked off down the field and slammed into the mud without a second thought.

15. Sex is not like it is in the movies

The camera doesn’t cut slowly away to the window when you’ve removed enough clothes to upset the censors. Seductive music doesn’t start automatically playing in the background. And post-sex hair definitely doesn’t look so rakishly attractive in real life. Instead, it’s a lot of fumbling, sweating, grunting and unexpected noises. It’s less dignified, a lot messier and much more fun.

16. Women don’t have to wait for someone else to make a move

Disney and Jane Austen and movies set in high schools have got a lot of people thinking that in heterosexual relationships, the man is the one who initiates any romantic possibilities. He asks her out, he picks her up, he pays. Not having the patience for this nonsense doesn’t make you needy or bossy or unfeminine (which aren’t always bad things btw). You wouldn’t go to a restaurant and wait until someone brings you the food you want: the only way to make sure you get the dish that’s caught your eye is to go up, politely place your order and see if it’s available.

17. Frozen banana tastes like ice cream

Get an old banana. Mush it up. Freeze it. Take it out. Eat it with peanut butter and/or chocolate chips. Feel smug.

18. Embarrassing moments are just future funny stories

You can speed the process up by trying to see the comical side at the time. That said, it’s also perfectly acceptable to save the ones with no witnesses for yourself.

19. You don’t have to drink alcohol

Benefits include not knowing what a hangover is, always being able to remember where you put your phone and having more money for books, clothes and obscure kitchen gadgets. Unfortunately, you do have to realise that some people will have a problem with this, even though you couldn’t care less what they do with their bodies. This might mean that you miss out on some awesome friendships but that’s their fault, not yours. Those who matter don’t mind, those who mind should really reassess why it is they take issue with your life decisions.

20. If you microwave a marshmallow it grows huge

I learned this from Dawn in Buffy. It’s about the only scene from the show you can safely re-enact in your own kitchen.

21. Make sure you know how to be awesome on your own

You are the only person who is always with you so you should probably learn how to get along with that little voice in your head. That includes in your own home and in the world spreading out beyond that square of window. Enjoy the voice's creativity and sense of humour. Find out what it likes (rom coms, photography exhibitions and indie pop rock). Teach it to map read, tell it off when it’s being mean, read it books and teach it new things just for fun.

22. An oven thermometer will change your baking life

If your cakes usually end up as a flat mess that looks more like a pancake that’s been run over by a lorry than the photo in the book, you need one of these. Hang it inside your oven somewhere you can read the dial and you’ll know that whatever else you’ve screwed up, at least the temperature is spot on.

23. Carry an umbrella

London weather is created by a control panel in the sky that’s operated by a drunk guy randomly fiddling with dials, pressing buttons and spilling coffee (see life lesson 6, dude). To combat this madness, get a mini umbrella and put it in your bag, next to your keys, pens and tampons. Much better than a soggy copy of the Metro or a Tesco bag.

24. No one knows what they're doing all the time

A constant stream of holiday photos, statuses about amazing parties and excited job/relationship updates has convinced us all at some point that the world is at a big carnival we’re not invited to. However, it’s also true that the more ‘grown ups’ you meet, the more you realise that no one has every aspect of their life or personality totally sorted out. Some people are better at hiding the not-so-shiny bits than others (money really helps with this) but ultimately we’re all wondering if we’ve made the best life decisions and what’s coming up next and if we can handle it.

25. Always dance

Don't condemn yourself to the sidelines. Shake it while you've got it and regret nothing. Dignity is less important than feeling like Beyoncé on the dancefloor for a night. 

5 songs to update your Christmas playlist

If you’ve been anywhere in public for the last three months, chances are your feelings on the standard Christmas playlist have evolved from warm anticipation to mild irritation to tuning it out entirely. Put the festive fun back into the season of goodwill and mince pies with these lesser-known tracks.

For the ones glued to their phones

‘Text Me Merry Christmas’ by Straight No Chaser feat. Kristen Bell

If work schedules, family conflicts or an inability to adequately define the boundaries of your relationship in time to admit you’d like to spend Christmas together has forced you and your beloved/person you like more than most others apart, this cheesy tune will have you half smiling again.

In the tradition of lovelorn duets, Kristen Bell is trading texts and selfies with a long distance lover from Straight No Chaser. Also known as Frozen’s Princess Anna (that’s the one not letting it go), Bell’s Disney-sweet vocals contrast with the crushingly realistic scenario of spending Christmas without your other half. It’s spot-on in its melodramatic tone of longing, and may be the only festive song to contain the word emoji.

Best line: ‘I’ll be right here waiting/For my pants to start vibrating’

(American pants, people)

For the too-cool indie fans

‘A Great Big Sled’ by The Killers feat. Toni Halliday

Fair warning: I love The Killers. My favourite Vegas exports have released a Christmas single every year since 2006’s ‘A Great Big Sled’, with proceeds going to AIDS charity (RED).

They often go bittersweet rather than all out ‘YAY FOR CHRISTMAS!!!’ The ten tracks are like a chocolate selection tin. Some are better than others - the toffee finger or Malteaser of the playlist - but even the less exciting ones are by The Killers, and therefore more interesting than listening to 'White Christmas' again.

The band’s trademark indie sound is more evident in ballad ‘Joseph Better You Than Me’, novelty number ‘Don’t Shoot Me Santa’, wistful Hollywood homage ‘Christmas in LA,’ and in joyful Latin-influenced number ‘¡Happy Birthday Guadeluope!’, but ‘Sled’ contains the bells, whistles and festive references required in a cheesy festive tune. Brandon Flowers’ knowing vocals lend a mature, edgy glamour in this upbeat number, which also features vocals from Toni Halliday.

Best line: ‘The snowman is shaping up to be an eight but not out of ten'

For the feuding couple

‘A Christmas Duel’ by Cyndi Lauper and The Hives

For every loved-up couple trading mulled wine-flavoured saliva under the mistletoe, there’s a quietly seething duo trying to make it through another tinsel-laden season without googling ‘cheap divorce’.

If your ideal Christmas song is less ‘Little Drummer Boy’ and more ‘Fairytale of New York’, try this modern update on the ‘I really hate you right now but I can’t imagine life without you’ dynamic that comes with being told to be joyous and good-willed for the busiest month of the year.

Admittedly, the pair in this song have taken things quite far. It starts with him sleeping with her sister and spirals from there. There’s a drunk wedding, a hitman and a minor incident of arson. But don’t worry, its has a happy ending. Sort of.

Best line: ‘I bought no gifts this year/And I slept with your sister’

For Netflix and chill

‘FaLaLaLove Ya’ by Nikki Lane

Like taking off your high heels and tight party dress and sinking into the sofa to watch Love Actually in your favourite reindeer print pyjamas. If this song was a part of nature, it would be impossibly serene waves lapping on a white shore decorated with a tastefully twinkling light display. It’s all about ‘Yay the person I love is here’ but in a gentle, musing way. This isn't making out on a sticky dancefloor to a weird remix of 'All I Want for Christmas'. It’s shoving the furniture to one side for a slow dance in your living room.

Best line: ‘I got a secret and it's time that you should know/I wanna wrap you up in a big red bow’

For the wannabe glam rocker

‘Christmas Time (Don’t Let The Bells End) by The Darkness

Lowestoft’s finest delivered this glittery glam rock festive tornado in December 2003. Sure, it sounds like it was probably written by a group of 19 year olds who’ve just discovered Dad’s posh brandy during band rehearsal, but it ticks off a good number of the must-haves. There’s a yearning love story at its heart, references to snow (and, er, hell…), a children’s choir, non-stop bells and Justin Hawkins in sparkly gold Lycra. Apparently this was all a bit much for listless Brits listening over a decade ago. It was beaten to Number One by Gary Jules’ Mad World.

Best line: ‘Christmas time, don't let the bells end'

9 life lessons I learned fighting anorexia

I held many misconceptions about anorexia until I got it. I thought it was for supermodels and people who didn’t like food. All you had to do was look out for the person with matchstick legs moving a salad leaf round a plate in the pizza restaurant, and then force feed them a sandwich.

And then it happened to me. Long story short, I started losing weight and I couldn’t stop. It wasn't a diet or a life choice or a career move. It was lonely and terrifying.

After ten months of treatment, I’ve just had my last appointment with my incredibly patient clinical psychologist. Throughout this process, I learned a lot about this disease, myself and the complicated relationships we all have with our brains and bodies. Here’s the skinny.   

Translating what it’s like to be you is hard

To shamelessly bastardise a quote from David Foster Wallace, we are all marooned in our own skulls. You can’t climb inside my brain to see what it’s like, and I can’t do that for you. Which means trying to explain why we each think what we do is hard.

Here’s how I would describe my anorexia. So I guess a person without it would think, ‘I like burgers. You like burgers. Let’s go eat burgers and life will be glorious in our juicy, meaty, carb-heavy world of fast food heaven.’ Everything in moderation, right? When anorexia runs this ‘Let’s get burgers’ scenario through its mad machine, the result is that it starts shouting that if you eat one burger tonight, you’ll end up eating three tomorrow and every day for the rest of your life and you will never stop eating, resulting in a waistline to rival the Stay Puffed Marshmallow Man. And everyone will hate you and no one will ever love you, even the cats you try to collect will reject you in favour of the bloke down the road who lets them piss on the sofa.

That’s a simplified version. As you go on, the machine gets extended, adding more foods that you can’t eat and more rules and an ever decreasing calorie counter. It also gets a power boost, so it shouts even louder. It’s powered by a lot of things, including body dysmorphia (that’s a whole topic by itself). I’m aware that it’s not me coming up with these thoughts, and it’s not something I built, but it’s something I had to live with and then take apart.

Fighting a mental illness takes courage

Throughout all this, a lot of people have told me that I was brave. I’m not great with compliments, but now I can look back as the version of me who got through it, I’m able to say, fuck, actually, I was brave. Since anorexia convinces you that putting on weight indicates a lack of will power, asking someone to help you stop it makes you feel like a loser who’s giving in.

Fuck that.

A wise man (Dumbledore) said that ‘It takes a great deal of courage to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends.’ Let alone yourself. Anorexia was the bully cornering me in the toilets and telling me I was worthless, and I was George McFly landing a solid one on its jaw.

Admitting to yourself that you don’t have this in hand is hard. Admitting to other people that you need help is hard. Trusting them to stick around is hard. Getting through every single time you have to eat when something inside you is screaming to stop is hard. No question there are shittier things you can go through, but this was my big battle, my Minas Tirith. And I’m proud of the girl who took it on. She was brave.

It’s OK to trust other people

I’m not one for relying on other people too much. In my head, the anorexia made me proud of my immense will power, but it was embarrassing to admit out loud that I had this thing that makes even the simplest eating situation feel complicated. Also, as a loud and proud feminist, I hated the thought that other women would think I was judging them by the insane standards I held myself to. Why would someone put up with a person so seemingly judgemental and totally neurotic, let alone love them?

None of the people I told pushed me away. No one told me I was weak or pathetic or a terrible person who should stop worrying about my first world problems. Most made the effort to understand that weird machine in my head.

None of you will know what you did for me. Like Buffy and the Scoobies, I was the one fighting the demons every day, but you were the ones sharpening the stakes and hitting the books and giving me CPR. Even when I panicked and stressed and tried to run, you followed me and sat with me on that path to madness and uncertainty until I could get up and walk back. Trusting other people with your weird things, whether it’s small like needing to walk on the right, or big like anorexia, is hard but worth it.

People around you will make mistakes and that’s OK

It’s hard to get your head around what it’s like to have anorexia if you’ve never experienced it. You have to be as patient with the people who are making the effort to muddle their way through and support you as they are with you.

One example is the apparently innocent sentence ‘You look well.’ To an anorexic in recovery, this translates to ‘You’ve put on weight’ which, of course, sets the machine off. I realised I had to take a step back and understand that what they were trying to say was that I’m moving towards being normal instead of this weird skeletal version of me. Which is the point, after all. I learned to remind myself that they’re coming from a different point of view, and once I’d accepted this I started to love hearing this sentence. It reinforced the sense that anorexia is not normal, which is what I needed to help me change my mind. Other stuff is more hurtful, but if you try and explain why something is unhelpful, people will know not to do it again. If they choose to, they’re a dick.

There are heroes in the NHS

Anorexia is an illness. It’s not an emotional state. It’s not something you choose. It’s not a phase. It needs a tailored and planned out treatment, like any other disease. The shame around mental illness makes it hard to find the courage to ask for help. The first time I told a GP that I was losing weight was at an appointment for something unrelated. Sitting in that chair, in the comforting clinical anonymity of a surgery, I suddenly blurted out that I had been deliberately not eating enough. When I told her it was because of stress, she calmly told me to join an art class. There was one down the road. Get out and make some friends and you’ll be fine.

So that was fun.

Luckily, just hearing my own voice saying this out loud gave the part of me who could see where this was all leading the power to shout back. It’s the first time I said no to the bully. I went back and I found the GP who would save my life. At the moment when I needed it most, the NHS stepped up (in a way). She listened to me describe what I was doing to myself, just as you would listen to someone telling you their physical symptoms. She made me do blood tests and come back just to talk about how I was doing, and to keep an eye on my ever plummeting weight. She treated it like a medical condition, not just some stupid shallow problem I would grow out of. I will always be grateful to the stranger who saved me.

The NHS needs to change how it treats mental health

Both of us knew that these visits were like putting a plaster on a wound that’s bleeding out. What I needed was counselling. Ultimately, it would have taken about a year from when I was diagnosed to getting to see an actual NHS counsellor who leads you through the ‘refeeding’ process (that phrase always made me feel like a cow waiting to end up in a Big Mac) and all the CBT. When you’re losing 2lbs a week, this is not time you have. I read a news piece that said more people are dying of eating disorders because they’re not getting treatment in time, to which my response is a loud and angry ‘Duh’. I was lucky enough that my parents were willing and able to pay for private treatment. And it’s infuriating that other people who don’t have that support are stuck with this system.

Your body is strange and amazing

The recovery process is a weird and terrifying and wonderful journey through how your body can adapt to look after you. From a totally cold scientific view, it’s actually very interesting. When you deny your body food, it goes into this weird setting called starvation mode that changes how you respond to things. Some stuff makes sense: your body’s priority is to keep your heart beating and your brain ticking and your muscles happy, so when you’re not getting much energy it’s going to use every crumb to focus on these, and be damned other stuff, like hair, hormones, bones and less important organs. The funny thing is that you don’t realise how shitty and worn down you feel until you start eating more. One day you stand up and the world doesn’t spin and it’s a revelation.

Other stuff that happens is totally random and seemingly unrelated. Scientists at the University of Minnesota did some studies on conscientious objectors in the '40s to find out about starvation and refeeding. Turns out not everyone in Minnesota is nice. It was weird to read about things and think ‘Oh that’s why I do that!’ For example, needing food to be very hot. Like burn-your-tongue-and-fan-your-mouth-like-an-idiot hot. And developing the urge to hoard things, like clothes and books and DVDs (yes, I will happily blame that on my eating disorder.) And when you do let yourself eat, you can’t stop. I would be so full I felt sick but still keep going. And that’s totally normal.

It’s hard adapting to your new body

When you first start putting on weight, your poor body doesn’t really know what to do with it, so it basically shoves it around all your organs, which are centred in your torso area. Sadly, this is the bit I get fixated on. Looking in the mirror and seeing your once concave stomach look huge and bloated can trigger that anorexic machine to go into overdrive and tell you to stop, stop now. This is why constant support, an objective voice, is so important. If you keep going, keep eating, keep listening to your therapist, your body will realise, ‘Oh, OK, that wasn’t a one-off burst of energy that we needed to store for All Of Time, we can start working with this extra bit of Us’ and it will move it to other places.

Like your boobs.

I’d pretty much bid mine farewell, and then suddenly, running across the street to catch a bus, I felt this vaguely familiar jiggle of protest. It was like an invitation back to the club of bras and curves and looking like a healthy adult woman. It was something to focus on when I was staring at the newly emerging bits of me. Putting on that much weight often makes you feel like an overstuffed sausage, so finding little glimmers and positives among that misery really helps.

Look for the humour in every situation

It’s a very heavy topic…

… Groan.

But seriously, the thoughts anorexia produces are so ridiculous you have to laugh sometimes. It’s probably not a good idea to initiate the joke, since you might not know how the person is feeling about it all at that moment. Thoughts on your weight change like the British weather – from sunshine to showers with no warning. My own sense of humour got me through some of my toughest challenges, and while people struggle when I break out these slightly sick jokes at times, I actually love it when they take my lead and join in. Learning to laugh puts things in perspective and reminds you that there are more important things going on than the calorie content of a muffin.

I wrote this to be read, so please share if you feel like it.

I never thought this would be something I would have to face all day, every day. I didn’t see it coming the first time, so I won’t pretend to be able to predict the future and say it’s never coming back, hand me that burger so I may toast my resounding and permanent victory over this weird machine. Truthfully, it will probably be something I have to keep dealing with. But I have the tools and the team and the life lessons behind me, so I’ll be ready to take it on and win again.