I am not a hippie. I’m also not cool enough to be a hipster. Mason jars will never grace our house as they are an anathema to my husband (controversial, I know). I am fond of an avocado or two (whether smashed or left pure and tantalisingly smooth) but I’m not too keen on the whole rose-gold, unicorns and moustaches, eating food off a trowel, beard man thing. And I’m slightly neurotic.
Phew. Glad I got that off my chest. I think it’s only fair that I’m straight up with you straight away.
I’m 31, married and became a first time (and likely last time) mum in October to my gorgeous boy. I am apparently a millennial but I feel far too old, embittered and cynical for all that (see above), although my bank balance is about right #housepricessuck. My confession is that I have a new addiction: I want…
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