The BritMums Live! team did an amazing job.
After 6 years, I still have a lot to learn about blogging.
Standing up to read one of your posts aloud in front of 400 people is just about as intimidating as it gets.
I am a rhubarb, according to the stylists from TKMaxx. Not an apple, pear, or strawberry (yes, you really can be strawberry-shaped - who knew?), but a rhubarb. So THAT's where I've been going wrong stylistically all these years...
A lot of bloggers have book ideas. A lot.
Meeting online friends face to face is rarely a disappointment.
Travelling without the kids is... pretty much bliss, actually.
But sitting on the tarmac for 4 hours at Moscow's Domodedovo airport whilst the hydraulic system on the plane is being fixed still stinks.
Arrive at Heathrow T5 after midnight and you will experience the spooky situation where they actually start to turn the lights off in the baggage hall.
Driving through the centre of London after 1am in the morning, looking at all the revellers out there, is a pretty good reminder of how darn old you are.
But glancing out of the hotel window at 6am on a Saturday morning (damn that jet lag) to see clubbers making their way home through the drizzle makes you realise that being ancient really isn't that bad.
After 6 years, I still have a lot to learn about blogging.
Standing up to read one of your posts aloud in front of 400 people is just about as intimidating as it gets.
I am a rhubarb, according to the stylists from TKMaxx. Not an apple, pear, or strawberry (yes, you really can be strawberry-shaped - who knew?), but a rhubarb. So THAT's where I've been going wrong stylistically all these years...
A lot of bloggers have book ideas. A lot.
Meeting online friends face to face is rarely a disappointment.
Travelling without the kids is... pretty much bliss, actually.
But sitting on the tarmac for 4 hours at Moscow's Domodedovo airport whilst the hydraulic system on the plane is being fixed still stinks.
Arrive at Heathrow T5 after midnight and you will experience the spooky situation where they actually start to turn the lights off in the baggage hall.
Driving through the centre of London after 1am in the morning, looking at all the revellers out there, is a pretty good reminder of how darn old you are.
But glancing out of the hotel window at 6am on a Saturday morning (damn that jet lag) to see clubbers making their way home through the drizzle makes you realise that being ancient really isn't that bad.
