AD info: this post is sponsored by Dove Whole Body Deo.

Who better to test out a new deodorant than me?

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking: there are a million people better suited to testing out a new deodorant than you, you desk-bound twerp! What about world class sprinters? Jockeys? Spies!

People who do high-stress activities that see them perspiring from every single pore on their body? They would be good deodorant testers! Gamblers. Lion Tamers. People who do physically demanding activities all day long. Ballerinas. Paramedics. Road fixers!

And yes, you could argue that any and all of those people would be far better placed to test out Dove Whole Body Deodorant than I am, but hear me out: those people know they’re going to get dramatically less and less fresh over the course of the day. It’s absolutely expected.

The undercover agent working in enemy territory gets ready in the morning knowing they’re going to spend the day rifling through the desk drawers of a megalomaniac, hoping he hasn’t guessed that “Brian the music teacher from Milton Keynes” is a fabricated persona.

The Red Bull extreme downhill cyclist knows that by the time she reaches the last 100 metre stretch she will have sweat rivers running through the ravine of her cleavage, that her top will be stuck to her back, that her feet will be hot and sticky. (I’d have a lot worse things coming out of me if I had to do one of those downhill courses, let me tell you!)

And yes, they would put Dove Whole Body Deodorant through its paces, but it would all just a bit obvious, if you ask me. If you ask me (and I know you haven’t, but I shall continue), a better test of their new deodorant would be on a person who maintains a relatively steady stress level for the majority of the day, with no real ongoing efforts or physical exertions, but who must then withstand sudden spikes of stress and adrenaline so monumental, so heart-stoppingly significant, that it’s a miracle she’s still alive.

It’s me, I’m referring to, in case you haven’t put two and two together. Me, with the same stress profile as an FBI Negotiator: relaxed for hours at a time, all fine and dandy, but with sudden and violent plunges into high-tension situations that I (unlike an FBI negotiator) seem apparently completely ill-equipped to deal with. Situations that send the protruding vein on the side of my forehead into pulsation overdrive.

Take last Wednesday as an example. There I was, minding my own business, working my way through my admin to-do list and putting off writing a blog post that’s been in drafts for a month: I could see the whole rest of the day stretching ahead of me and only one urgent task that couldn’t be deferred. Absolute bliss.

But then the intercom rang for the gate and it was a man selling olive trees - “yours for £850”.

“No thanks!” I said, very politely, but it is a quirk of the gate intercom that anything you say into one end of the receiver comes out the other end an unintelligible, garbled mess. It sounds like a goose is honking through a megaphone.

And so the olive tree man didn’t understand my “NO THANKS” and carried on talking into the camera about the age of the olive tree and the fact it came with the gigantic pot (it was probably quite a good price, in all honesty, considering it was about a thousand years old and eight feet tall, but putting it in my hands would be like signing its death warrant) and so I thought I’d stop being lazy, put some shoes on and go down and tell him I didn’t want the olive tree in person.

Except that instead of turning off the speakerphone button, I pressed the button to open the gate!

If I say that as though it’s an epic problem, me opening the gate, that’s because it is. We have a long and very steep driveway, and once someone starts bringing a large vehicle through the gate, they commit themselves to at least five minutes of pained, extreme manoeuvring at the top. Any big vehicles that absolutely must come up (small skip lorries, heavy deliveries) have to turn around so laboriously (and usually churning up the grass at the sides of the driveway in the process) that it becomes this really tense, high-stakes spectator event that you didn’t want to have to partake in in the first place. Especially if they get too close to where the drive drops off into an almost vertical hill. Whooph!

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Anyway, the gate started to open and I was bellowing through the speakerphone - “STOP! DO NOT GO THROUGH THE GATE” and at the same time trying to put my trainers on, but the kids had stuffed my trainers with tissue paper as a joke (story for another time) and I could only get the very tips of my feet into them. So off I went through the door, on tip-toes, with the dog barking his head off, and then the dog managed to get out in front of me which added another layer of peril because it was quite likely he’d go and run behind the reversing Olive Tree Truck, so I had to launch myself down the driveway - gradient akin to that of Mount Manaslu - with my feet en pointe inside my Flipflop trainers, waving my arms in the air and screaming “STOP! STOP!”

And all without a bra on, whilst realising I’d forgotten to put the bins out for collection day and also suddenly remembering I had a dentist appointment at half past two.

But there I was, three minutes later, back at my desk, dog alive and safely under my feet, heart rate back down to a solid 48.

(Apparently this means I’m afflicted with something, the fact I have a default resting heart rate of around 48. But I spoke to the doctor and she said all is fine. She said, “many athletes have this sort of resting heart rate” and I have to say I swelled with pride, despite her clanging error. That is what you get for wearing cycling shorts and a baseball cap to a doctor’s appointment! Flattery! I should probably have corrected her, in that I am absolutely not an athlete, I just do my Peloton classes a few times a week, but I was feeling too good about it all, and concentrated on flexing my quads a bit so that I could really ham up the athlete look.)

Anyway, oh my God, I digress, what I’m trying to say is that my days seem to be peppered with these high-stress moments that send me hot and bothered all over. So who better to test a deodorant that goes beyond the underarms? That delivers all day odour protection and keeps things feeling fresh in places like the back and the feet? Between the boobs? Under the boobs? In between the thighs? (This area specifically seems to be a danger zone for me this year. It must be the cycling shorts!)

I mentioned in a previous post that the spray version of Dove Whole Body Deodorant had won permanent status in my bag (as a teen of the nineties, I am well au fait with the idea of an all-over spraying session, including feet, stomach and a quick spritz in the general direction of the Garden of Eden) but I have been lengthily and dutifully appraising the benefits of the stick and the cream version too.

What I like about the stick and cream is that they have a very soft, silky texture that doesn’t dry down to a tight film, or leave a gunky mess behind: it’s all very neat and lovely and above all gentle, more like applying skincare than anything else. A nice replacement for my usual trick, which is just spraying copious amounts of perfume over myself in the hope that it’ll tide me over until I get home again and into the shower!

They’re not meant to replace underarm deodorant - but then I wouldn’t really want to put underarm deodorant anywhere else on my body, because the texture feels weird (I did try it, to check) - but I do think it’s the more skincare-leaning alternative to what we did in the nineties, which was to spray whole entire cans of Impulse or Charlie Red over ourselves after PE to keep any odour in check.

I think for me that the spray version most easily fits into my routine - it has a similar “silky” feel to the cream and stick, which is unusual for a spray product and the fact that it’s no-contact means it’s easy to apply during the day for freshening top-ups. In the last two days alone, the Dove Whole Body Deodorant spray has seen me through an incident with a bat on the landing (the cat dropped one out of its mouth, Rich was away, I had to catch it in a cereal bowl and release it outside, stress level a solid 10/10), an unexpected encounter with some cows and an extreme driving event that saw me having to reverse alongside an open trench in the lane, where they were replacing pipes, with only about an inch of leeway either side of me because my car is as wide as a cross channel ferry, all whilst a huge tractor bore down on me from the front and my kids argued in the back about how glacé cherries were made. (They’re slowly simmered in syrup over a lengthy period of time.)

So there you have it. Dove Whole Body Deodorant spray, permanent fixture. It has very quickly become the product I think about when I’m going to be out for the day and I know there will be a point where I want to feel more fresh and comfortable. The skincare-led formula feels beautiful on the skin, really gentle, which I think is what keeps me coming back to it, actually, above all else.

Dove Whole Body Deodorant is now available at selected retailers (see here for more info) - my most-used scent is Raspberry and Rose, but all three fragrances are mild (I don’t find they particularly interfere with my perfume) and have that “clean” sort of smell that is comforting and light.

I know what you’re thinking: too much information! I’ll never be able to look at you the same way again! That’s OK. I’ve not been able to look at myself in the same way for over a decade now.

Now I don’t know whether you’ve ever had to self-administer an enema (it’s not the kind of question you tend to ask during polite conversation): a bit of cursory research on Instagram leads me to believe that for many hospitals and clinics it is something that is often done “in house”.

Indeed, this was not my first rodeo at the enema show: I’d had one about fifteen years ago before a colonoscopy at Whipps Cross hospital in East London. No sedation, no painkillers and an enema administered by a nurse with the biceps of a heavyweight champion and a touch so far from gentle that I struggled to walk straight for a week.

But at least Nurse Iron Grip removed an unfamiliar, slightly stressful step from what was already an unfamiliar and stressful day: having to do a home enema, which seemed rife with the possibility of serious misstep and/or death, had me feeling emotionally drained before I’d even reached the hospital.

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But anyway, there was a full-scale facial revolt that went on during the heat of the heat-iest wave of heatwave (it reached forty degrees on the stone steps at the front of the house), with more and more spots appearing on my face almost as I stared at it in the mirror.

I knew what it was though, because this has happened before: my skin, which loves all types of sunscreen for most of the year, hates chemical sunscreen when the weather is scorching.

If you have no idea what chemical sunscreen is, then it’s the type of SPF that is more the norm - the default type. If your SPF doesn’t say “mineral sunscreen” on the bottle, then it’s most likely a chemical one. They’re usually lighter in texture, absorb more easily and are virtually invisible once applied. Mineral sunscreens tends to be slightly thicker and will more often than not leave a white tint to the skin because of the filters they use, so only a fraction of the sunscreens you see on the shelves tend to be mineral ones.

Some people freak out over these terms, chemical and mineral, imagining that chemical sunscreens are made on an evil despot’s oil rig from things like battery acid, potassium chunks and melted-down litmus strips, and that mineral sunscreens are formulated by fairies at the bottom of the garden using hemp, grass seed and the juice of the baobab tree. But both are made up of chemicals.

Chemical sunscreens work (simplified version because I’m not qualified on the science, I mean I just wrote “juice of the baobab tree”) by absorbing the UV rays whereas mineral filters reflect the UV rays, using zinc oxide or titanium dioxide. (See! Chemicals!)

Anyway, when it gets really really hot my skin seems to break friends with chemical sunscreens. Maybe it’s because everything gets so clogged up (sunscreen is designed to stick around on your skin, so the normal cleansing job sometimes just won’t be enough) but I also think that, for me at least, it’s something to do with the particular ingredients in the chemical sunscreens. They become intolerable to my face. Weirdly not to the rest of my person (though I’ll extend “face” to cover chest as well) but on my visage I get flourishes of spots, sometimes some irritation and, quite often at the same time, really stinging eyes with formulas that previously didn’t sting me.

Weird!

But all is not lost. Here’s what I do - immediately - when my summertime face begins to fall apart.

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1. Ramp up my cleansing routine.

Usually I’m a “cleanse once in the evening because WHY would my face even be dirtying as I sleep?” sort of person, but in the summer, I really up the ante. I use a balm cleanser in the evening (this one from ELF is my current most-used, it’s a steal and has a luxe melting texture and removes mascara as well as everything else) but in the morning I use something splashy and light.

(This hot weather is the only time I will consider hanging my head over a sink and splishy-splashing it, I cannot abide the sensation of water running down my arms or neck, normally, but if it’s boiling outside it’s just about acceptable.)

I’ve been using the Medik8 Total Moisture Cleansing Gel in the mornings - it’s deep-cleansing and very refreshing and weirdly far more hydrating than it strictly should be for a product of this type. See also Yepoda Bubble Double, and for something less splashy (more creamy) but still light and fresh, try Inkey’s Cream-to-Milk Cleanser.

2. Introduce a BHA exfoliant.

This one is even more important than the first step. A BHA is a beta-hydroxy acid and it’s a type of exfoliant, but one that is oil-soluble, which means that it can get deep into the pores to keep them clear and unproblematic, making it an amazing solution (or part-solution) for people who experience breakouts and blemishes and blackheads.

I sweep the BHA liquid on after cleansing (thoroughly, balm and flannel!) in the evening, so that I know it’s getting to work overnight. Just tip a little onto a cotton pad and swoosh it over the face, making sure you get the side of the nose and the eyebrows (why the spots in the eyebrows? cruel nature!) and then follow with your usual routine, though I’d give heavy creams a miss.

I go: cleanse, LED mask, BHA, light oil-free moisturiser. Or if it’s my retinoid night (I alternate nights, sounds complicated but isn’t) then I might use the BHA the following morning instead. I don’t like to stack those together. Perhaps I’m too cautious with my skincare routine, but I always think it’s best to go easy and tackle one thing at a time! If you want my full skincare routine (obviously take these tweaks into account!) then it’s here.

BHA exfoliants I love and trust:

Paula’s Choice BHA 2% Liquid, here

Skin Rocks Control Acid, here

Medik8 Press & Clear, here

Ole Henriksen Detox Drops, here

3. Switch to Mineral SPF

Is this step even more important than step 2? Can’t decide. But it’s a crucial change, because I basically eliminate the entire cause of my woes in one fell swoop by switching from a chemical sunscreen to a mineral one. Why don’t I use a mineral one all year round? Because generally I find them less refined than the chemical ones, which are usually weightless, invisible and a joy to apply.

Mineral SPFs often feel slightly clunky by comparison, texture-wise, but they have some huge benefits. They won’t sting the eyes. They tend to create a good grippy makeup base. And, perhaps most importantly for the purpose of this post, they can be better for those who get spots or irritation. (The downside is that white cast they can leave, but I do think that some of the brands are getting more clever with mineral sunscreens and the way they are formulated.)

My favourite Mineral SPF of the season so far? Tatcha The Silk Sunscreen. The closest I’ve found to the texture of a silky, lightweight chemical sunscreen. Has added moisturisers and also niacinamide which would be a lovely ingredient to add into the mix anyway if you were having breakouts and redness and so on. Finish is not too matte (which I hate) but equally not shiny-oily feeling. This also seems to have far less of an opaque white cast than others I’ve tried, though obviously I’m relatively fair anyway so my findings here are of limited value.

Just perfect. Oooph, I love it. But not the price-tag, which is a whopping great £65, and unfortunately blows it out of the water for the majority of people. I feel as though some would pay that for a big-name night cream, but when it comes to sunscreen it’s more of a practical purchase rather than a luxury and the majority of people would absolutely balk at it. Does that sound silly? Am I wrong? I’d love this to be more accessible, it’s so beautifully done. Tatcha rarely make anything I don’t instantly fall for, when I think about it, it’s a problem!

(It’s here. I have no discount code other than the SpaceNK new customer one (pops up on the website) but do let me know in the comments if you see any!)

Not quite so silky, but equally not at all horrendously thick, we have Yepoda BFF SPF50. Sits really well under makeup, this one, and costs considerably less than the Tatcha at £24. (Here.) This also has a slight tint, which helps to counteract the white cast.

Cetaphil’s Mineral SPF50 is my newest discovery - grabbed for £11 a couple of weeks ago and tested almost daily since. It actually feels more fluid than either of the above options, in terms of consistency, and spreads quickly and easily over the skin. Does it feel quite so light and delicate once applied? Possibly not, but I think if you started out with the Cetaphil and hadn’t ever laid eyes on the Tatcha then you’d be pretty pleased with it.

I mean, I’ve used it over and over again when I could have been reaching for the others so I’d say that’s a good test. Had I hated it, or found it even slightly upsetting to use then I’d have resigned it to the outbox. No greasiness, gentle on the skin, affordable enough that you’d use it in the right quantities and happily reapply.

I got mine here for £11, I can see it’s usually around £16, still a brilliant price, if you ask me.

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So that’s my emergency protocol for when my summer skin won’t play ball. It’s pretty fast-working. You might ask, why the hell do you not just use mineral sunscreen for the entire summer and then you wouldn’t get these problems in the first place?

It’s a fair question. I suppose I get lulled into a false sense of security for months and months where my skin is flawless and the weather is warm and then BAM!

Maybe next year I’ll start my switches in spring…

Maybe you don’t want to read any of them: then we’re really in trouble.

I must say that I am not dreading the six week break as much as I normally would, because the kids are older now (9 and 11) and will actually amuse themselves pretty well for a good few hours a day, even with their one hour screen rule*.

(*Don’t come for me on the one hour screen rule. I’m not trying to be one of those smug uber-mums who hand-washes all the laundry using homemade soap, or sends the kids into school with a packed lunch consisting of Ottolenghi salad, a tub of pomegranate seeds and cutlery made from recycled bamboo. The one hour screen rule was something we introduced after we realised that for the first six or so years of the kids’ lives we had let them sit and watch Peppa Pig for at least 50% of their waking hours - it’s amazing they didn’t learn to oink instead of talk. We’re simply trying to relieve some of our own guilt. Rich is much more of a stickler for it than I am, I have to say - I’m much more swayed towards “having an easy life”.)

But then there’s always a tipping point, with the long holiday and the kids being at home, and it is always when I am knee deep in one work task and have just realised I’d forgotten another more important work task, and one of them will come in and say they’re bored (always the 9 year old) or hungry (also the 9 year old but often the 11 year old) and my whole carefully-built, overly-optimistic defensive wall of stress-management and time-keeping will just immediately crumble, like it’s been hit with a wrecking ball.

OK tell me which of these you’d like to see first:

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But no. I spent very little time walking in heels as a fashion model because I was terrible at it. I was the sort of model who excelled at being completely still, at being captured in that one moment in time looking outrageously cool or sultry or whatever it is I was being paid (or not) to be.

So I cannot really blame my feet issues (weird alignment, suspected plantar fasciitis that I have diagnosed via the AI section of Google, crappy weak ankles, etc) on the modelling career. True, I often used to walk 8-10 miles a day shuttling between castings, but there are many jobs where you clock up an insane number of steps each day. Postman. Nurse. Dog walker.

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Anyway, I did walk a lot when I was a model, but not in the way everyone thinks. No sashaying for me, because if I was forced to wear high heels and move in them I instantly adopted the gait of a newborn T-Rex - casting directors only made that mistake once! - but lots and lots of stomping the pavements in my Adidas Stan Smiths.

I’d go out on a limb here (lol) and say that the damage to my feet was directly caused in my late teen years. A time of my life when quite possibly my joints and bones were just about finishing their growing and fusing, yet I insisted on going out clubbing wearing six inch platform shoes with insubstantial buckles. And then often walked home with no shoes on at all.

(But you just said you had the gait of a newborn T-Rex? And you wore six inch platforms? Yes, I did, but it wasn’t so much of a problem when I was merely jigging my way around Odyssey at 2am holding a triple Archers and lemonade. The stakes tended to be higher when you were walking in front of a few hundred fashion people at - eg - Hugo Boss.)

And then, going back to the damage, I think that possibly years and years of squishing my feet into any sort of footwear I fancied, including pointy-ended things that folded all of my five toes on top of one another so that they formed a weird Quintruple Decker toe sandwich inside the shoe, didn’t do much good.

All this to say: I’ve been testing out special flip flops that offer a bit of extra sole-cushioning and foot support. Havaianas are sadly dead to me, as one singular hour in them the week before last rendered me immobile for almost two days, suffering lightening pains across my soles and an underlying but moderately severe overall ache that reminded me of the time I thought it would be a good idea to park my car on the outskirts of Birmingham and “walk into town”, to a) atone for my drinking sins and b) save myself the parking fee. (Student. Summer of ‘99.)

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Before we start on the flip flops, I must say that my Birkenstock Eva Arizonas (here online) are supremely comfortable and have a slightly moulded sole that is a million miles away from the totally flat sole of a classic flip-flop. But I have grown a bit weary of their chunky looks and practical aesthetic: what I wanted was a bit more skin on show. A little moment for my pedicure to shine. (Even though it’s a very old pedicure now and the nail polish is hanging off the ends of my toes unattractively, but the sentiment is there.)

I wanted the casual, careless, throw-on footwear of my youth, invoking memories of beach bars and riding around the streets of heatwave Paris on the backs of scooters (yikes) but I wanted this footwear to offer moral, emotional and physical support for my forty-five year-old feet.

First through the gate: FitFlop Flip Flops. They were my first port of call, seeing as though my most-worn trainers are FitFlop, my ballet flats are Fitflop and various other sandals and casual shoes. Surely their flip flops would be the best you could get?

I ordered the iQushion, crafted with special ergonomic technology, in my usual size -UK6. Colour: a lovely soft bronze. How dismayed I was to find that they were so small I couldn’t get my whole foot in! I reordered in a 7. Black. No bronze left. Still a little on the small size, but I thought it would be ridiculous to size up to an 8!

Now what I will say about the iQushion is that they are a cut above your usual flip flop. A properly engineered sole that bounces you along, clever shaping that supports the arch almost imperceptibly, and a lovely slender flip flop strap that looks chic and fashionable. The whole shoe (if you can call it that) feels more sleek and refined than its competitors. (Namely Archies, Croc, Oofos. Though perhaps not as sleek as Crocs, see below.)

What’s stopping the FitFlop iQushion from being the best overall supportive flip flop and allowing me to simply finish the review right here and go to bed?

The toe post.

Oh, the toe post. Now I’m sure after a few weeks I’d get used to it, but the completely vertical positioning of this post meant that it was permanently wedged right up into the space between my toes. A constant annoyance.

And I probably would have put up with it, or ridden it out, had I not on the same day slipped on a pair of Archies, the arch-supporting flip flop brand that must be spending 50% of their profits on re-marketing via the social media platforms.

Never have I seen so many adverts for one product (apart from maybe Celeste d’Or bras, and those reusable eco pan scourers) but let me tell you that they targeted me at precisely the right time.

I had been researching comfy sandals and flip flops for about a week when all of a sudden about sixteen thousand Archies ads landed in front of my eyes in the space of an hour. I must admit I was swayed mostly by the fact that Jennifer Aniston owns three pairs of them, because I love a bit of Rachel from Friends, but also the millions of reviews saying that these flip flops were the comfiest sandals on earth, bar none.

I clicked, I bought, I slipped them on, and boy were they instantly the absolute dream. Archies look almost exactly like Havaianas, or any standard flip-flops, except that they have a big lump moulded into the sole where the arch of the foot should be. It’s slightly weird, the sensation of the foot lump- it feels more like a foot mountain at first - but I imagine that the flatter your foot, or the more fallen the arch, the more you feel the mountain?

Apart from that weird feeling, it was immediate love. Something about the shaping of the sole seems to guide the foot into an optimum position, so that as you walk along your feet aren’t flapping around all over the shop, side to side, up and down, they’re firmly positioned on the sole, with the straps of the flip flop laying securely over the top and the toe post (which is slanted) comfortably in place.

After a week or so of Archies wear, I’m wondering how I ever coped with a totally flat flip flop sole. The idea of it is almost absurd, considering my foot limitations: walking around with two flaps of rubber on the bottoms of my feet, held on by toe scrunching and positive thoughts.

Oh - that’s another thing. No toe-scrunching required at all for the Archies. The foot settles in, the flip flop seems to mould to the foot, everything is solid and secure and comfy.

They’re the winner, for sure, though if FitFlop fixed the toe post (just slant it slightly!) it would be incredibly close, if not a draw. FitFlop with its narrower strap just looks sexier.

I know you’ll pipe up and say “OOFOS!” “Crocs!” but I have examined both, just to cover all bases, and the Oofos are too chunky for this particular brief. The Crocs, though very sleek and stylish-looking, don’t have quite as much arch support. (They would probably be my winner if I didn’t need the extra foot-shaping sole - I love the shape of them!)

So there we have it. Archies are currently saving the day, giving me something non-foot-destroying that’s sleeker and more minimalist to wear with my floaty dresses and linen trousers than the plastic Birkenstocks. Are flip flops ever going to be the podiatrist’s favourite shoe? I doubt it. But if you must (I must!) then these feel like a great option.

You can buy them direct from Archies here and from Amazon here. They’re £35 and there are loads of colours. I’m about to order the dark brown, because I went rogue and did bright pink for my review (I always seem to be drawn to plastic sandals in bubblegum pink!) and they look a bit juvenile with my nice, modern sundresses.

The Fitflop are here - I would definitely size up. I’d size up in the Archies, too, though I found Archies to be more generous.

One thing, before I go: quite a lot of people slipped into my Instagram DMs to say they find their flip flops very noisy. I didn’t really know what to say to this. You’re basically slapping two pieces of thick rubber at the floor with the entire force of your bodyweight, what can I tell you? You’re never going to take someone by surprise with these on…

I feel as though long locks are “in”, at the moment, don’t you? Everyone and their aunt seems to be sporting these impossibly long, straight swathes of hair and for a hot minute I thought to myself, I quite fancy those too. But then it turned out that lots of people I saw with this hair actually had extensions in, which seem to be really expensive and time-consuming and I can’t get past the fact that you can apparently feel the little knobbly bits near the roots where they attach the other person’s hair to your own hair, which would drive me mad.

(I once had eyelash extensions. Three times, actually. The first two times were great, really loved them, but on the third session they used slightly heftier lashes to get a fuller effect and oh my God. I picked and picked at those lashes, rolling them between my fingers until they plucked themselves off the lid, taking the host lash along with them. It became compulsive. I just couldn’t stand the feeling of the stuck-on-ness of it all. I plucked and rolled for twenty-four hours until the next afternoon I realised I only had twelve eyelashes left on one eye and fifteen on the other. I was virtually bald on both lids.

I made an emergency dash into the West End (I lived in London at the time) to find a salon, any salon, who did lash extensions (it wasn’t that common then) and ended up in Chinatown in a room above a restaurant, where a woman tutted at me as she removed the final, sad extensions.)

Anyway, I don’t think long hair is for me, full stop. Every time I have shorter hair I think that longer hair is for me, but then as it grows out I realise that I can’t stand it hanging around my face. That I hate it sitting on my bare skin if I’m wearing a sleeveless top, the way it tickles my back or my shoulders. And so when it’s longer, and by this I mean past the shoulder, I end up tying it up into a ponytail or a bun, and that is where it stays for approximately 98% of the time. Giving me the Worst Tension Headaches of all Time™.

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As soon as it gets hot, my intolerance of having any restrictive clothing touching me increases to absurd levels, so that my ideal garment would basically be a cotton sack with a hole cut into it for my head and two holes for the arms.

AD info: this post is a sponsored post with Dove. Links are affiliate links.

And it’s not the sweatiness, or stickiness of the situation that irks me: it’s almost entirely a sensory one. The roughness of a seam feels eighty times worse if the mercury is rising and tempers are flaring. An elasticated waistband? Absolutely not.

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Anyway, I have the sweatiness and stickiness issue completely covered thanks to (smooth segue here) Dove Whole Body Deodorant, which is a brand new range built for places for places beyond the underarms - in addition to regular deodorant. Think: gap between the boobs that becomes a sweat conduit as soon as temperatures creep above twenty-five degrees. Creases behind the underboob. Channels of pure humidity and clamminess that sit at the tops of the thighs. Let’s face it, these places are absolute carnage zones when the heat turns up.

So, Dove Whole Body Deodorant comes in three formats and three fragrances: the Whole Body Spray, Whole Body Stick and Whole Body Cream. Obviously my most-used so far has been the spray, because I am a child of the eighties and therefore a teen of the nineties and grew up spraying myself liberally with the popular body sprays of the time. Charlie Red, Dewberry, Impulse. This is not the same thing at all, it is the considered version, the mature version: beautiful scents (Raspberry & Rose, Lavender & Chamomile, Sea Mist & Peony) but with a formula that delivers all day odour protection as well as nourishing oils and (incredibly, considering all of this) a quick-dry finish that feels, to me, completely weightless.

And with the same brilliant satisfaction that only an all-over spray session can give. That instant veil of scent, the cooling sensation, the feeling of being immediately freshened and fresh - CAN HIGHLY RECOMMEND A CHEEKY MIDDAY SPRAY ON THE FEET AND BACK, thank me later - and the convenience of the no-touch application.

The Whole Body Stick and Whole Body Cream take things to another level again, feeling more like ultra-moisturising skincare, to me, than anything deodorising. Very clever and designed for chest, thighs and intimate areas, all tested to be gentle and suitable for the particular areas they’re meant to be applied in.

I’ll be back with another post and a deeper review on these, because I am currently working my way through all three formats and fragrances (most-used so far is Raspberry & Rose but it’s a close call) but I can tell you that they are already a brilliant addition to my bodycare line-up, and will be all year round. A deodorant that you can use all over, with added skincare so that it feels beautiful to apply and comfortable to wear? Yes please to feeling fresh and confident all day!

You can pick up Dove Whole Body at selected retailers - details here.

And so to this year’s heated, frantic search for clothes that won’t stick to me like a moist, clammy shower-curtain: I'm looking for a light-as-air dress that will feel like a silken sack but not look like one, ideally sleeveless and sexy, which I realise is a ridiculous request to send out there into the universe. And then I want some slightly smart, tailored shorts that won’t cut across my gut, or make me feel as though my undercarriage has been garrotted when I sit down, but they must not be linen because linen is the absolute work of the devil - I am convinced of it - when it comes to any sort of clothing that has to sit around the crotch. Being left with an explosion of creases and wrinkles that radiate outwards from your groin like a giant star is just not the look you want.

The last piece in my triumvirate of summer fashion figureheads is to be the lightweight jacket. Because for every one of the heatwave days, when we curse the fact we don’t have air con fitted, there are at least twelve-to-fifteen days of overcast mizzle, average temperature fifteen degrees, not cool enough for a jumper but too cool for just the cotton sack. I want something slouchy and undone, something I can throw on over a summer dress but also over the tracksuit I don’t own yet (can’t find one with the correct waistband height) or the soft-as-butter leggings I do own but can’t bring myself to wear, because they basically provide a full gynaecological map of my nethers to anyone who happens to glance down below my naval. (From behind, I may as well have been body-painted. They leave nothing to the imagination. I cannot fathom wearing them out in public.)

Here are my discoveries so far: mostly from Hush. I have to say that my hunt hasn’t been entirely successful - even looking at these pictures now, with the benefit of distance and hindsight, viewing myself as others might view me in the things I’ve been trying on, I’m not entirely sure they’re right.

1 The Shorts

These are Hush. The Cordi shorts. Nearly all of my favourite shorts have been from Hush and I’ve worn them all to fabric-death, where holes have appeared and seams have unravelled and waistbands have gone stretched and loose from years of washing. (Long-term readers and Instagram followers will remember the Green Shorts.)

I usually go for a cargo shape, with the shorts, but is this higher waistband and looser leg slightly smarter? Am I ready for this shape? They’re certainly very cool and comfy. I like that they are just about high waisted enough that they nip in at the right place and cover the area around my belly-button, which is so mashed-up from babies that it looks like the Sarlacc Pit, that horrible hole that Jabba the Hut threw his enemies into for a certain and disgustingly painful death.

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How do we feel about these Hush shorts? Are they getting consigned to the returns pile or do they look very useful? I’m erring towards the latter but could easily be convinced otherwise.

The Hush Cordi Cotton Shorts are here

2 The Dress

Onto the Hush Air Flow dress. Funny silky feel to the fabric on this one that doesn’t necessarily feel light, if anything it has a weight to it - it reminds me of the bias cut Ghost dresses of the nineties - but this does make it drape nicely and hang elegantly as you move.

Am I cock a hoop about it? I’m still searching for alternatives, put it that way.

Hush Air-Flow Dress is here online.

3 The Jacket

I actually think I may have found what I want, here - hurrah! An oversized jacket that is soft and drapey and comfortable but looks denim. For my entire life I have tried to be the sort of person who can wear a denim jacket, but as soon as I put one on I feel as though I’m wearing something that has been constructed from blue paper and cardboard. Did you ever make a robot costume out of a cardboard box when you were little? Wearing a denim jacket always feels a bit like that, to me.

This denim-ish jacket (we’re with Hush again, I did try on other brands but these were the best bits!) is not rigid. It is soft, almost so soft you’d want to sleep in it, and I like the detailing at the back and on the sleeves that stops it from just being a big slouchy blob of nothing, but: there’s the worry that despite all of this, it does still look like a big slouchy blob of nothing.

Thoughts?

The Robbie Jacket from Hush is here

Right, I’m off to do some squats in the sauna and see how Dove Whole Body Deodorant Stick fares. Hahaha….

Shop Dove Whole Body Deodorant now at selected retailers.

Stay with me on this.

My Dad died in the February of 2018. It was all pretty awful and sudden. He didn’t have much with him, when it happened, but somehow his little travel bag of belongings made its way back to me to be dealt with appropriately. Rich informed me (I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to look) that the bag contained a set of my Dad’s clothes, some notebooks, his passport and his glasses.

So I was too sad to look at these items at the time, and I was still too sad to take a look at them when we moved house two years later, and then eight years passed by and the little bag sat in the back shed, clothes neatly folded inside, waiting for me to decide what to do with them.

What is the appropriate way to deal with someone’s possessions when they are all you have of them, but at the same time the possessions are very mundane things that you can’t very well frame and hang on the wall, or have standing on the mantelpiece, or what have you?

‘Why have you got an Asics half-zip fleece jacket displayed on a mannequin in your hallway?’

‘Oh, it was my Dad’s.’

It felt wrong to throw the clothing items out, but also very weird to keep them. The well-worn shoes, the jeans, the Asics half-zip fleece. In the end, nature made the decision for me, by treating everything to a dose of damp and so, last week, when Rich was clearing out the back shed, he asked me whether it might be time to dispose of the garments - and, indeed, the travel bag itself, which had mildewed and musted.

The things I decided to keep?

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Please take a look at these before-and-after photos and be suitably shocked and impressed. The only difference between photos is that the second one was taken after I’d used my ZIIP Halo (at-home facial device that uses electrical currents to lift and tone as well as a myriad of other benefits).

There’s no camera trickery, no filtering, no subtly trying to frown for the before picture or smize for the “after” shot, this is just the effects of the ZIIP.

You can see that my face looks totally lifted in the second photo. In a way, I’m worried that these photos are too good. That nobody will believe me and will think that I’m just raising my eyebrows in the after photo, and putting on a smug expression, but I’m not! If I was raising my eyebrows then my forehead would runkle up into a concertina of horizontal lines - if I was frowning in the before photo, you’d see deep creases in the middle of my forehead.

If it looks as though all of my facial muscles are more alert and taut - more activated - in the after photo, that’s because they are! That’s exactly what the ZIIP Halo does. Gives the face the equivalent of a little gym session.

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Perhaps this is better evidence - I took a photo midway through my ZIIP-ing session, having done only one half of my face. You can clearly see the lift here, too - it’s maybe even more apparent when the result is right there next to the starter material.

Sorry if I sound too excited: years I’ve been working with ZIIP Halo and this is the first time I’ve truly managed to capture the brilliance of the instant visible lift-and-tone effects.

It’s surprisingly hard to capture on film, because although in real life the results are profound and obvious, it’s not like a makeup before-and-after, or someone’s fitness before-and-after, where your eye can easily spot the difference. No “little muscles to massive muscles”, or “unadorned lips to red”.

So forgive the over-enthusiastic start. I had intended to begin this post in a very serene and mature way, formally introducing the ZIIP Halo and its benefits, moving on to how it works (and whether it works!) before describing where it sits in my skincare routine and answering some frequently-asked questions. But I feel as though I’ve bolted straight out of the stable and onto the racecourse here, which isn’t even a saying but let’s go with it, because it’s blatantly obvious that the ZIIP Halo does work and I’ve sort of covered what it does without even trying!

Sigh.

But for those who would like a sensible breakdown, the ZIIP Halo uses electrical currents to help give a more lifted and sculpted appearance. It can help to reduce puffiness and improve general definition, but the main takeaway is that instantly it gives a tighter, more sculpted look.

With consistent use, a few times a week, there are loads of other benefits - ZIIP Halo say seventeen altogether - but people generally want to know more about the instant gratification aspect. Which is, for me at least, that it gives a pre-maquillage facial pick-me-up that makes me look at least ten times less worn out, and with short-term lifting effects that easily last as long as my makeup.

I use the ZIIP Halo before starting my morning skincare routine. I don’t really cleanse beforehand (just a quick swipe over with some micellar water) because I’m only going to slather my face in one of ZIIP’s conductive gels anyway, and I prefer to remove these after ZIIP-ing, so.

On that note: it is very important to use a good conductive gel - one that a) you like using and b) works properly. The reason I’ve stuck with the ZIIP gels is that all of the others I’ve tried (doggedly researching on behalf of readers!) have gone tacky very quickly and then dried midway through treatments. So I’ve found myself repeatedly reapplying, which is massively annoying and disruptive and definitely chops off some of the seconds that the ZIIP Halo could have been working on lifting and toning my skin.

(ZIIP do a few different gels now; they have the basic Electric Complex Gel, which is a lightweight conductive gel and the cheapest option, but they’ve also developed the range to include one that has ingredients to help clarify and calm the skin (the Clear gel) as well as options to help with glow (Crystal), support collagen (Golden) and intensely hydrate (Silver gel). I use the Electric Complex the most, I think, but the device now comes with a selection of different gels in the box, which is a brilliant way of trying them all and deciding which one you like best.)

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To use the ZIIP Halo, you apply a layer of gel to the skin (I usually find six pumps is enough for whole face and upper neck) and then turn the device on. You then slide the ZIIP firmly over the skin and the electrical currents cause the muscles to contract and relax, a bit like, as I said, a gym workout. But for the face.

Here’s where I think most people go wrong, though, when they have a ZIIP Halo: they just turn it on and start, moving it sort of aimlessly across the places they think they want to concentrate on. But the ZIIP actually has seventeen different treatment programmes. Seventeen. Everything from lymphatic drainage to the lifting and sculpting of specific areas (jowls, eyes, lips) and even a dedicated neck session.

How do you select your treatment? Through the (excellent) app. I like this - it keeps the ZIIP Halo device itself simple and minimalist, uncluttered - but I think a lot of people miss the app because it’s something you need to initially download and log in to.

I also think they maybe assume that the treatments on the app just show you where to glide the device, how to move it across your face, but each of the seventeen treatments has completely different waveforms that target different concerns! The app syncs with the device and tells it which waveforms to use. This, combined with a follow-along video guiding the particular placement and movement of the ZIIP Halo on the skin, creates a very specific treatment.

I really think you’re missing a trick if you don’t take the time (ten seconds?) to select a dedicated treatment before you start. I’m wondering whether this is why I got such good before-and-after photos this time around - usually I’m concentrating on the imagery, if I’m doing branded content, and so I just turn the ZIIP on and do an all-over session, but this time I did the Face Lift treatment (the strongest one available) and then I also did the Eyes treatment.

Probably why you can actually see my eyelids, for once!

Highly recommended the app, as you can probably tell. Don’t invest in such a great tool and then fail to access some of the best bits of it! Use it to its limits! And also don’t underestimate the power of consistent use - this isn’t designed to be an occasional pep-me-up, so build it into your skincare routine and aim for two or three times a week.

So: I ZIIP and then I do my skincare routine (see that here) and then straight in with makeup. It really couldn’t be easier and I think that this one singular step, the ZIIP-ing, makes the most immediate and obvious difference in my routine. It’s incredibly gratifying. As someone who is not interested in tweakments or injectables, it feels very exciting to get a perky lift to the facial features that is not only instant, with no downtime, but can be done at home, sitting on the sofa whilst Two Weeks in August is playing on iPlayer. (Oh my God, so much to say about that.)

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OK: some FAQs. These are the questions that pop into my DMs every time I mention the ZIIP Halo.

Does using the ZIIP Halo hurt?

Nope. You may feel muscle twitching as the current passes through it, but I find it weirdly pleasant, that sensation. If it feels prickly, like you’re getting a little electric shock, apply more gel! Sometimes I forget to do my eyebrows or the very edge of my face with my gel and I always get the prickles - lots of gel. That’s what conducts the current, so if there’s no gel, the current can’t pass through and the whole thing is sort of pointless. A bit like rubbing some spoon-backs across your face. Pleasantly cool, but there are better ways to spend ten minutes!

How often can you use ZIIP Halo?

I use it a few times a week, on days I’m going to be filming or out in public and don’t want to look like a medieval weaver who has borne seventeen children and rises before the cock crows to milk her cow and walk eight miles to market.

You can use it three to five times a week initially, to jump-start results, but after about six weeks it’s best to stick to a steady three times.

How long do the lifting results last with ZIIP Halo?

I find the most dramatic lifting and sculpting results seem to last for most of the day, though if I was going out for an evening event I’d do the ZIIP-ing nearer that time, rather than in the morning.

I do think that there’s a cumulative effect, too, long-term and those effects (smoothing, just general improvement in firmness) seem to stick around. Hard to tell, as I’ve never stopped using the ZIIP completely to find out what might happen!

How long does it take to use the ZIIP Halo?

If you just switch the device on and start, it’s pre-programmed with a four minute treatment. However, I’ll say it again: do not ignore the app! Treatments on there can last up to twelve minutes and many will give you a much more intense result.

Can I use the ZIIP Halo straight out of the box?

You can: make sure it’s charged, only using the dedicated charging cable provided in the box, and then it’s ready to go. Sorry to bang on about the app but I absolutely would use it from the off - don’t be impatient, it takes minutes to download and set up and you only have to do it once! - but if you really cannot wait, and want to copy some of the people online who use their ZIIPs in quite frankly the most bizarre ways, be my guest. It’s ready to go. Just switch it on, glide it across your be-gelled skin and when it vibrates slightly, you know you can take it off and glide it across another bit of face.

How do I know how slowly to move the ZIIP Halo?

Guess what’s your friend in this situation? You’ve got it! The app! HA! Honestly, the people at ZIIP are going to think I’ve lost the plot, but I am a big fan of the app. You’d never know.

If you’re app-less then reasonably firmly and slowly - the metal bits both need to be in full contact with your skin and then I like to pretend I’m very slowly pushing royal icing across the top of a cake.

I have never actually pushed royal icing across the top of a cake but I imagine it would feel like this.

Which is the best treatment for jowls?

Oh God. I hate the word jowls! It’s my most-hated word that’s anything to do with the beauty industry. But if you’re after jawline definition and a firming-up of the area around the mouth, the treatment you need is very handily named…Jowls. If it’s neck-tightening you’re after then - again - the treatment is sign-posted pretty well, it’s called Neck.

If you prefer an all-over treatment then plump for The Everything Facial, which combines different wavelengths, movements and pressures, but if you want to amp up the power for maximum lift, it’s the Face Lift you need to try.

Enjoy. Report back. There’s a whole world of discovery right there in the palm of your hand!

Any questions you’re desperate to ask that haven’t been covered here? Leave them in the comments. One of them should most definitely be: is there an app?

You can find the ZIIP Halo online here - use RUTHZIIP for 10% off

It’s a miracle I’m even alive! Let alone bringing you a monthly favourites post! Yes, readers, I can officially say that I survived the Great Somerset Lightening Storm of 2026. And I know that the whole of the UK witnessed the storm, pretty much, but I’m claiming it for us, here in the south west, because out of the 29,000 lightening strikes across the country, a whopping 18,540 of them were here!

At least 11,000 of those landed directly in front of my car, as I sat outside Magic in Motion dance school with the kids, waiting for the flash-flooding to subside and the torrents of water that were rushing down the hill to ease off.

Did you know that being in a car is one of the very safest places you can be, during a lightening storm? I know this because I frantically sat there Googling all about it as my terrified kids sat in the back seats, soaked through and shivering, mopping at their hair with a chamois leather and a McDonald’s napkin, the only two absorbent things I could find in the glovebox.

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(Had it been the glovebox - or car boot - of my late teens and early twenties, it would have contained almost anything and everything you could possibly need in order to survive any brand of apocalypse. Zombie, nuclear, ice age, other. I virtually lived in my car in those years and at any one time had two full sets of clothes, at least four pairs of shoes, bits of rope, approx a hundred plastic bags, cutlery, at least four packets of Marlboro lights, seven litres of Diet Coke, a towel, a duvet, coat hangers, tins of John West Tuna Light Lunch (shelf life 80 years), loose change down the sides of the seats and under the carpets to the tune of around thirty quid, three disposable lighters, a small, battery-powered alarm clock, a Collins Road Atlas and a six-disc CD multichanger filled with the newly-released album from Ministry of Sound, Now 43, Madonna’s Immaculate Collection, Mariah’s Number 1’s, something by Ma$e and the soundtrack to Rush Hour. (Was surprisingly good, at the time.)

Anyway, the car is one of the safest places to be in a lightening storm because - I quote Google - “a car with a metal frame and roof acts as a partial Faraday cage. The metal body safely conducts high-voltage electricity—like a lightning strike or downed power line—around the exterior and into the ground, leaving passengers inside safe, as long as they avoid touching exposed internal metal.”

Had we been in the aforementioned car of my late teens and early twenties, we’d have all been completely shafted because it had more exposed metal on the inside than any other material. (Cars were simpler then! We wound the windows up and down with a handle! Some of them didn’t even have seatbelts!) Had I instructed my nine year-old son not to touch any of the exposed metal in my car-of-the-past it would have taken him about fifteen seconds to lose willpower and poke an experimental finger towards the door frame.

But we weren’t in my car-of-the-past, we were in a state of comparative luxury, and even though I had no way to make fire or keep us warm or feed us if the world did start to end, I had a chamois leather and my in-built Porsche compass, which tells me which direction I’m facing and also how many feet I am - at any time! - above sea level. Excellent in a disaster situation.

The weather continues to be alarmingly weird, in the UK, with a heatwave so brutally hot (near enough forty degrees) that all of the schools around here have closed. People laugh at the British when they say that there’s a heatwave, and comment things like “try living in Fitchlington County, Arizona, we regularly have whole months where temperatures exceed 45!”

But the thing is, we have absolutely no strategy for when it gets hot, here in GB. Nobody has air con. We all rush out and buy fans as though it’s the first time we’ve ever seen sunlight. Why do we not already own a fan? It’s like we’re shocked that hot weather can even exist.

To be frank, we’re also really surprised when it rains a lot and when it floods, and also if it ever snows, or if there are high winds. We tend to fall apart at any weather event that isn’t just a bit drizzly, medium winds, temperature feels like eleven degrees.

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But here I am, writing to you from the inferno. Dog to the left of me, fat cat to to the right, stuck in the middle with you.

Onwards, friends, with the June Favourites.

Ad-info: no paid or sponsored content. Post contains affiliate links. The Tatcha Milk is a press sample sent with no obligation to feature.

The Speedo Hydrasuit Swimsuit.

Nothing has made me feel more instantly like a superhero/member of the Olympic Diving Team than this swimsuit. It’s the high neck! The zip up the back! The fact I can do breast stroke without my baps flying up and out! It’s just so professional-looking - wasted on me really, considering I flounder around in water like a demented seal.

It was love at first try. I just felt so confident in it. The Hydrasuit was thirty-two quid here, I sized up to a UK14 (36) because the cut was, how do I say this, athletic-leaning. No regrets, went to buy it again in navy but they had sold out so I wait, silently, finger paused over the refresh button. Navy would be lovely…

Boody Ribbed Crop Top

Boody have a sale on. Oh, the softest and comfiest bras that are breathable and won’t make you pool with sweat as soon as temperatures rise. I bought a load of them last week, including a little racerback bralette thing to wear beneath vest tops, but the Ribbed Crop has won its way into my favourite underthings of all time list.

It’s so soft. Surprising level of support. Not “sports bra” level, by any means, but much more than I’d expect from something that feels like a cloud is cradling your boobs. I bought it in three colours and only kept one, which was stupid, because I need to have these on rotation.

They are currently in the sale at an outrageously good price here - I wear a size small and am UK10-12, 32DD.

Tatcha Dewy Milk Moisturiser

You’ve heard of Tatcha Dewy Cream, perhaps, because it has cult status in the world of beauty aficionados for the way in which it pumps the skin with so much hydration it’s fit to burst and then leaves a lovely dewy effect, borderline “glazed doughnut”.

I have to concede that it’s a very beautiful face cream. (Though I get an almost identical effect from the Beauty Pie Rich M3 cream here.) But, until now, only really suitable for people with skin on the drier side. I always felt it would be a bit much for those with even a hint of oiliness - it would feel heavy on the skin, despite its lovely gel-cream texture.

WELL. I don’t know what sort of alchemy Tatcha have conjured up with this Dewy Milk Moisturiser, or who in the development team sold their soul to the devil, but it is absolutely exquisite. The same (if not better!) dewy finish, the same ultra-hydration, but in a texture that feels as light as any moisturising product I’ve ever tried.

It’s almost like one of those essences that I can’t be arsed with. (No thanks to an extra step that I then have to Google which order it goes in and whether it still works if I have used my Glycolic peel pads.) It’s that light.

BUY TATCHA DEWY

If you have oily skin - or even just prefer a barely-there texture with your moisturisers, especially in the summer - and you’ve always wanted to treat yourself to something Tatcha, and you have some Space NK rewards to use up (or are a first time customer so get that 15% discount) then I just don’t think you’d regret this. This and the Rice Wash would be my two picks from Tatcha that I think aren’t replicated by anyone else, in any shape or form.

(Though I will always continue to hunt for cheaper options of everything, if I possibly can. I do have high hopes for a Byoma product I’ve just ordered, but not sure it will be the same silky texture. Will report back.)

The Names

Huge trigger warning for Florence Knapp’s The Names, which tells three alternative stories of a family affected by the domestic abuse of the mother, Cora. The novel starts with the naming of a baby and, as Cora gets to the registry office, her naming decision. Go with the name the abusive husband (God, he’s drawn so well, so evilly, I wanted such bad things for him) had instructed her to go with, or choose her own name, thus retaining some sort of small power of her own.

It’s harrowing, I won’t bluster over that fact. There were many sad tears shed here, and I also experienced a deep residual anger that lasted for days and days, still hasn’t subsided, probably fuelled by some of the absolute horrors in the news involving violence against women and the way it is minimised and even ignored.

Now and then I read a novel and think THIS!, this should be on syllabuses for GCSE and A-level students. The Names is one of them. It so powerfully depicts how one person can prey on the vulnerabilities of another and reduce them to a whisper, a shadow of the person they were, and remove all of their ability to stand in the world independently. Whether its finances, or reputation. God, this has been going on for hundreds, thousands of years, and it’s still happening!

The Names is important and terrifying and brilliantly, brilliantly written. Massive recommends. I got mine here - at time of buying (and writing) it was less than half price.

Furry Birkenstocks

It feels weird going from The Names to something fluffy, I’m all riled up inside. But I missed being able to include these in last month’s favourites and nothing says “heatwave” like a pair of shearling sandals, so I’d hate to miss another weather-appropriate month.

I’ve wanted these for what feels like years. I just never felt I could justify the price. But then, IDIOT!, I’ve spent a lot more on things I’ve barely worn, and I wear my rubbery Birkenstocks every single day in the summer, so how could these furry ones ever be an error?

I know you’re thinking I’m mad. Furry stuff in the height of summer? But there’s something about the shearling that seems to keep my feet very comfortable in the heat! What is this trickery? Let’s Google:

“Genuine shearling is naturally temperature-regulating and breathable. It wicks moisture away and releases it into the air up to 7 times faster than synthetic fibers, meaning it can be comfortable on milder, breezy spring or summer days.”

That explains it, then. I also don’t get at all sweaty, unless I am sweating buckets and it’s all being trapped inside the furriness. Time will tell. If my dog starts licking them in a few weeks’ time I’ll know that the sweat has permeated the fibres forever.

I sized up one, as instructed by the sizing on the Birkenstock website, and bought these in the “Mocha” colourway. Kind of wish I’d gone lighter, because everyone in my family says I look like a caveman in them, but also, not really bothered. I think the dark brown is cool.

I bought mine here.

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Right: video version of the whole entire monthly favourites (and a bonus beauty favourite that you MUST watch the video to see in action) is here:

I saw this cake sitting on the shelf and thought that it had been left there by accident: someone has picked up their made-to-order masterpiece from elsewhere, I thought, possibly some sort of artisan patisserie, and they have come in here and rested it on the shelf while they peruse the labels on the various baked goods, trying to find out which variation of bagel has the most protein in it.

That was the scenario that instantly came to mind. That someone had mislaid their precious fondant-wrapped cargo. But no, when I moved the cake on the shelf to one side, I saw that there was an identical cake of wonder behind it. Two fabulous cakes! Both worthy of a spot on some sort of baking show - Is It Cake? or similar.

I tell you what, compared to the Colin the Caterpillar cakes and the Rainbow cakes and the Raspberry Ripple and Vanilla Sprinkle cakes, which all looked perfectly nice, this wonder cake - the Neopolitan Ice Cream Cake - looked like a work of art. An entire ice cream sundae, rendered completely convincingly from different types of icing, on top of a tri-colour base made to look like an upturned tub. Complete with two full scoops of icing gelato (slightly “melted” at the bottom to add to the authenticity) a swirl of whippy cream (again, icing), some flakes (real) and a drizzle of chocolate sauce, spilling enticingly over the edge.

Ooph.

Eighteen quid, the same price as the (lesser, in my opinion) rainbow and sprinkle and “vintage” birthday cakes. Steep for a supermarket buy, but way less than you’d pay if you had one made to the same specification. Little tip for you, if you’re ever looking for a cake for an eleven year-old’s birthday and have less than eight minutes to choose one because your car park ticket is about to expire and you have no battery on your phone to extend your stay.

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So yes, I could have written an entire post about this cake. What a buy! Needless to say the eleven year-old was thrilled and slightly overwhelmed, because Colin the Caterpillar is the default cake in our family and we rarely deviate. (They like arguing over who will eat the solid chocolate face. Loser gets the feet.)

But I have an even better find: this is best swimsuit I’ve ever owned. I’m almost sure of it. I knew it would be a goer when I saw the picture online but then, as I pulled it on and zipped it up (yes, a zip, stay with me) it felt as though I was almost donning some kind of superhero suit. Instant confidence. Everything felt secure and present and correct, in terms of where it should have been sitting (I’m talking tits and tum here), but also the cut managed to feel supremely sexy.

Which is surprising, considering it looks like the sort of thing an Olympic Diving Team might wear. Perhaps this is what they do wear…

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I have to say that since I published that post, about how my holiday to Port Isaac ticked all the boxes, I’ve had a slight change of heart about the whole thing. In that post (you can read it here if you need to get up to speed) I talked about why I thought this particular mini break worked so well and that, basically, it was because: a) we didn’t have to fly anywhere, b) we had visited the area many times before and so it was all completely familiar and c) we had gone into it with relatively low expectations.

WHAT AN EARTH HAS HAPPENED TO ME?

WHERE HAS MY SENSE OF ADVENTURE GONE?

IS THIS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN TRYING TO JUGGLE LIFE, KIDS AND MULTIPLE INCOME STREAMS FOR OVER A DECADE JUST COMPLETELY DRAINS YOU OF ALL LIFE FORCE AND ENTHUSIASM?

I don’t know why I’m shouting in caps. I suppose to underline how surprised I am in myself. Usually so keen to explore new places and to work out the best itinerary and research the ferry times and try to find flights on Easyjet that actually depart during the hours that normal humans are awake in. (04.25 from LGW, anyone? With a 2am check-in time? No? No takers?)

I feel as though my post about Port Isaac was one step away from buying a travel kettle and a couple of fold up chairs and spending the summer sat beneath a caravan awning. Not so much because of the mini break itself, which was really quite glorious, (watching Doc Martin for eight hours straight, eating lobster, watching the stormy sea out of the cottage windows), but because of the general air of beaten-down defeat that my post gives off.

I’ve realised since then, because I’ve spend approximately fifteen work days researching summer holidays abroad instead of meeting deadlines, that although it’s bliss to not have to travel anywhere by plane, or pay forty euros for a sun lounger on a packed beach where the family next to you are playing The Venga Bus Is Coming on repeat through their waterproof bluetooth beach speaker, it is still vaguely necessary - for me, at least - to stretch my legs a bit, geographically and experience something different once a year.

Say things like Kalimera! at the top of my voice and look very pleased with myself. Worry that I’ve used the Grazie instead of Gracias because I can never remember which one is Italian and which one is Spanish. (Ask me to curse in Spanish and I can give you four options, minimum (thank you Narcos!) but hand me the bill and I will not know how to show my gratitude appropriately.)

No lingual issues such as this in Port Isaac, no issues with sun loungers, either, you’d look an absolute tool if you rocked up at the harbour freshly Piz Buin-ed and carrying a deckchair. Though saying that, I’ve never actually been when the sun has been blazing - perhaps it turns into a Club Med style lounger-fest, amongst the coils of rope and bits of net and the flotsam and jetsam that’s washed in by the sea.

Have you been to Port Isaac? It’s very lovely. We’ve touched on this before, but to give you a sweeping overview, the sort of thing a seagull might get were it passing over the top but not stopping in for a chat, it’s a small, remote fishing village on a hugely picturesque section of the Cornish coast, a part that has dramatic cliffs and tiny bays and in general the sort of scenery that makes you want to down tools, buy a stone cottage and start a new life writing children’s books about ancient pirate treasure.

In Port Isaac there’s a harbour, surrounded by stone houses and cottages along impossibly narrow lanes and alleyways, and you can imagine that in the olden days it was very insular and cut off. I feel as though we very much romanticise rural and coastal living in the UK - I certainly have an idealised view of it, probably thanks to the insane cottagecore conditioning we had as kids in the eighties. Victoria Plum. Bramley Cottage. Sylvanian Families. Postman Pat, driving his little red van over those impossibly perfect humpback bridges. It’s no wonder I’ve always yearned for the country life, despite being scared of the dark and not that keen on livestock, big dogs or having to put my car into reverse. (I spend my life reversing along tiny lanes trying to get to a suitable passing point. Tractors will not reverse even if they are right next to a passing point. Lorries absolutely won’t reverse ever, which does make sense. Vans might reverse, if you’re lucky, but not often. So if you’re in a single track lane and there’s any one of these vehicles facing you, you’re shafted. Get used to having eyes in the back of your head and dealing with stress level spikes that are on a par with, I don’t know, skydiving strapped to an instructor who has just told you he often forgets to check the parachute lines, to keep things interesting.)

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Anyway I have a great love for Port Isaac and feel as though I know it inside out. This is because it’s the setting for one of my favourite TV series, Doc Martin, about a morose London surgeon with a blood phobia who has a traumatic career episode and flees from his job to start again somewhere smaller and easier.

We haven’t discussed this, I don’t think, Doc Martin is one of the reasons Rich and I ended up leaving London. I had never actually planned to live in London in the first place, but I moved there when I was a model (2001), and then I met Rich (2003) and he was a die-hard Londoner, and then the concept of being anywhere except London seemed alien and incomprehensible.

We both had work that was based in London and all of our friends were in London, the idea of being anywhere else was never mooted.

Until we started watching Doc Martin. If you haven’t given it a go then you must: it is proper comfort TV, except also absolutely brilliant, with funny acting and amazing comic timing but also some heart-wrenching bits.

And - be still my heart - the frequent panoramic camera shots of Port Isaac, sweeping across the bay and down into the harbour, and taking in all of the wonky little smuggler’s cottages and the tiny lanes… I had always wanted to live in the proper countryside when I was growing up - the whole “rose cottage” fantasy - but something about the easy way of life in the fictional version of Port Isaac made me want to immediately up sticks and get out of the city.

It didn’t help that we used to watch Doc Martin on my work computer, which was in the spare bedroom at the back of our place in Leytonstone, and just over the garden wall there used to be drug deals going on and people stopping their vans to have a wee against the fence and all sorts of other stuff. None of that did much for the “let’s stay in London” side of the argument, I’ll admit; but it was the easy, slow way of life in this fictional Cornish village that totally bewitched me.

I can’t believe it took almost twenty years for us to go and stay there! We visited, a lot, but I have to declare that sleeping there, watching the sun go down and Doc Martin’s house fade into the gloom across the other side of the bay, listening to the seagulls wheeling and screeching, we were living the absolute dream.

I found the cottage we stayed in at Boutique Retreats. They have a very curated selection of holiday cottages on their website, all with beautiful photography, and everything that came up for our selected dates, in North Cornwall, looked really lovely. But when I scrolled to a cottage called Mount Pleasant and realised that it was right there on the cliffs in Port Isaac, overlooking Doc Martin’s actual house, there wasn’t really a lot to mull over. Location perfection.

As a little crash pad it was perfect: dining room and small kitchen on the ground floor, sitting room on the first (to take in the exceptional views) and bedroom on the top.

We spent hours in the sitting room, watching episodes of Doc Martin back-to-back, a splendid rainy Saturday, but we also used the cottage as a base to go off here and there to get food, to wander around the village, to pop to the pub for a pint.

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Before I go off on a little tangent for paid subscribers, detailing everything I ate in Port Isaac and whether or not I regretted it, I want to give you my top three things that must be done if you’re visiting. I mean, MUST. I know I said I’d give you a full itinerary of the trip, but I’ve just realised that I’ve pretty much covered it with the Doc Martin Viewing Marathon, forays out of the cottage for food and these, my three top things:

1. Lobster at Fresh from the Sea.

This is a tiny cafe selling fresh seafood that has been caught that day, and hauled in just a couple of hundred metres away down at the harbour. You could not get fresher. The menu is short, but the lobster here needs no special adornment. Either have a half lobster with some salad and mayo and slices of buttered bread, or have it ready-made into a sandwich - same with the crab. Good God, I dream of this meal at least once a week in between visits. And I only really manage one visit a year. Which means 51 daydreams to work myself into a frenzy about it.

Check opening times here.

2. Port Isaac to Port Quin Circular Walk

To see Port Isaac properly, you must venture up to the top of the cliff behind Doc Martin’s house. This is good, because you can walk past Doc Martin’s house on the way, and shake your head at all of the people who rudely stand at the front door and pretend to knock on it, for photos, even though the people inside are blatantly trying to enjoy their holiday behind those venetian blinds. I suppose they must know what they are in for when they book…

Anyway. Hike up to the top and then continuez a droit to Port Quin for a good old leg stretch. Mind the cows on the clifftop fields. I have bad memories of those cows chasing us when Dexter the dog was a puppy. Would they be the same cows? Surely not. Evil cows. Don’t run over the edge of the cliffs to avoid them, as I almost did: death by cliff fall seemed much nicer than death by cow goring, at the time, but I’m pretty sure my ability to make sensible decisions was compromised due to stress.

3 Ice Cream at The Ice Cream Parlour

I like this spot because you can watch everyone walking down into the village and there’s a bench at the front of the parlour that is a) a sun trap and b) has the perfect people-watching angle. There’s just something very holiday maker-ish about it. Is the ice cream special ice cream you can’t get elsewhere in Cornwall? No. But a good array of flavours and it is creamy and superb - it’s difficult to be disappointed in it. I’m just saying that it’s the location and the bench you want to be reaching for. Get that bench. Get it.

So, that’s where we stayed and what we did, which seems very thin on the ground, now. But I’m not trying to say that Port Isaac gives you a full three-day non-stop action-packed time of it, if you’re sticking to the confines of the place, but it’s the wandering and dondering that is the beauty of it. And eating. Which I am now going to move on to.

All the things I ate in Port Isaac and whether I regretted them:

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She’s right. And I’ve generally been behind with my reading this year, mainly because Rich and I have been working our way through Narcos and Narcos Mexico on Netflix; first the story of Pablo Escobar, which is just superb (who knew there were so many inventive ways to die very painfully at the hands of a drug overlord!) and then the story of the Mexican drug cartels and all of their violent betrayals and dubious senses of loyalty. Honestly, I could write a thesis on Columbian cocaine and its Mexican distribution channels at this point. And I’ve learned a bit of Spanish, even if it’s mainly profanities and insults.

So yes, I’m only on book number twelve and we’re half way through the year. It’s a poor performance really, considering that usually I might rack up (lol) forty or fifty books in a normal year. An hour or two before bed, every night, and then whenever I manage to grab a moment’s peace. I suppose it doesn’t help that we’re currently doing up another cottage* (The Dorset Nest) so that it’s ready to be let out for holidays and so every spare second I have I’m scrolling through pages of lampshades, trying to find antique tables on eBay, squinting at fabric swatches and trying to imagine what they’d look like if they were two hundred times bigger, lined with thermal interlining and hanging from a curtain rail.

Anyway, I’ve ordered a load of books and here are five I’ll be devouring this summer - as well as three from last summer that I think everyone should read. I gave each of these 2025 reads a solid 10/10 and still think about them frequently. If you’re after something summer-defining and memorable to add to your list, that is where I would start.

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Don’t get me wrong: I hate being late and I’m definitely not one of these people who is all for “spontaneity” and “sailing close to the wind”. When I travel, I book in advance and print off my tickets in case my phone battery dies and I like to know exactly what I’m doing and where I’m going and precisely how many stops to count on the metro before I need to get off. And when I’m working, I need to have an approximate idea of deadlines and the overall shape of my week so that I can make sure I fit everything in, and I have both a paper diary and my phone calendar to remind me of all of the life things that need to be done.

But planning too much? Getting ahead of myself and doing my work early? No. It vexes me. Mainly because a) nothing ever goes to plan and then I feel as though I’ve failed and b) if you do things early, other tasks just flood into the space you’ve left, like dry sand running into a sandcastle moat. If instead I leave things loose and vague, if my list is flexible and informal, then anything I do manage to cross off it feels like an epic achievement, and I would rather just tackle things at a steady and undramatic pace than be fighting with myself to free up time that will only be taken up with the next lot of work.

How jolly of me!

Anyway, I’ve confirmed my own belief this month, that getting things done early is a terrible approach to life, because I was too organised and I did make some content earlier than usual and I’ve completely shot myself in the foot! I have now been posting my Monthly Favourites online for around fifteen years and usually I spend the entire month making my shortlist of favourites and then I ruminate over them for a bit, let them stew, and then, at the very last minute, just as Cinderella is about to turn into a pumpkin - I film, edit and upload.

I like this sense of tension and the feeling that I am running out of time - it motivates me. I’d say that at least half of my favourites videos have been filmed under extreme pressure, the main pressure being that I feel like a total berk if I put out the video in the wrong month. January Favourites, say, when it’s February 1st. There’s being fashionably late to the party and then there’s turning up the next morning: nobody wants a guest the day after!

So this month I filmed two whole weeks too early and it shows. Not only had I not accumulated my usual quantity of favourite things on the shortlist to pick from, meaning that my opening favourite thing is “my new pedicure” and a close-up video shot of my feet, complete with sock marks, I also missed out on some amazingly good finds that all happened in the past week. Too late for the video!

Luckily for you, I am my same old skin-of-the-teeth self when it comes to writing the blog post, so not only do you have the official favourites (including the feet) you have a bonus item. I’d give you more but I don’t want to leave myself short for next month.

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There wasn’t even supposed to be an intro to this post. I really need to learn the art of getting to the point faster. But then the journey is as important as the destination and all of that. Favourites:

Ad info: no paid or sponsored content. The Dorset Nook is a holiday cottage I own as a business. Links may be affiliate links, unless stated otherwise, beauty products are sent as press samples with no obligation to post.

My Pedicure

For God’s sake. It’s an embarrassment, this is. The fact I’ve included it as a favourite, not the pedicure itself. The pedicure itself is very good, despite costing almost twice as much as I’d normally pay (Cowshed mark-up, I treated myself when I was at Soho Farmhouse. Something had to lift my mood after the first night.)

What I will say is that I can’t stop looking at my feet, because they are at least twenty times prettier than they were a couple of weeks ago, and I do think that it was money well spent, especially as my pedicures tend to last me at least three or four months before the polish gets too far up my nails! Bargain.

The Other Bennett Sister

One of my favourite things on the telly in a long while, The Other Bennett Sister imagines the story of Mary Bennett (middle sister in Pride & Prejudice) and how she simply doesn’t meet the usual societal expectations of the time. Mary is highly intelligent and observant and has better social skills than any of her sisters but she is not conventionally pretty, she’s not interested in hair ribbons or marrying soldiers and so in her small town setting she’s something of an oddity. Taken out of the small town, however, transplanted into the city, and she is set free - valued, revered, loved.

It’s a brilliant, clever, inventive take and I devoured every minute of it, from the darkest and cruellest depths (emotionally abusive Mrs Bennett, played impeccably by Ruth Jones) to the most gorgeous highs. (There are moments, especially when Mary is being championed by her suitors and her aunt and uncle that you find yourself cheering out loud.) Just watch it. It’s on BBC iPlayer here.

No98 Hydra Bond Shampoo and Conditioner

This surprised me: I don’t often veer away from my Philip Kingsley Itchy Flaky Scalp range, because it’s great on my fine hair and sensitive-ish scalp, but I was swayed towards the No98 range after a few people recommended it and am seriously impressed. The fragrance is strong with this, and it’s sort of a “sexy church” smell, incense-y and heady (though my hair stylist Cassie says it smells botanical, which is probably a less sacrilegious description) so you have to like wearing your scent in your hair, but boy does it make fine hair ultra-soft. I don’t think I’ve used anything so instantly softening on my bleached, fine hair in a long time.

It actually doesn’t feel up to much during the washing process - my hair feels quite dry and tangled after shampooing and the conditioner doesn’t seem to leave that satisfyingly silky residue when you rinse it out, but every time I’ve let my hair air dry after using No98 it has felt incredible. Just beautifully conditioned, but a weightless kind of conditioning, and a clean feel that lasts for days.

I’m not often impressed by haircare because my hair’s needs are so specific - it’s damaged, it’s blonde, it’s fine, it gets greasy on the scalp but then is dry at the ends - but this range is a keeper. You can find it online here.

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Sulis Fine Art

I’m always on the look-out for good, original art. I lucked out in this respect because I was born into a family of artists and so I have some excellent stuff that has come my way, but I have collected from art fairs, galleries, art dealers, antiques markets and flea markets and even directly from the artists themselves.

I enjoy it, hugely. The hunt. But I have to say that it is time-consuming and a long-term endeavour and I am currently on something of a deadline with my new holiday cottage (The Dorset Nest, Instagram here) to get it open for bookings later this summer and I do not have the luxury of spending four years searching out the best paintings!

Step forward Sulis Fine Art, my finest recent discovery. They have over 10,000 original paintings at any one time, all categorised and priced so that you can very quickly and very easily find exactly the sort of thing you’re looking for. Agreed: finding art is emotional, not something you can just sift out by category and price, but it absolutely a game-changer to be able to present yourself with a few hundred paintings that are all in your price range, or that are the size you need for a certain space.

What’s amazing is that I had a few things in mind - subjects - for the paintings I wanted and I managed to find exactly what I had imagined. The beauty of having ten thousand pieces of art to choose from, I suppose!

You can find Sulis Fine Art online here.

Soap Poetry

I leave some lovely welcome gifts for guests at my holiday cottage, The Dorset Nook, and I will do the same for guests at my new cottage, The Dorset Nest, too. People are always delighted. I like to think that what I leave is a little representation of things that I personally love and think are the absolute bees knees.

One of the things is a little hessian bag filled with beauty bits; there’s body stuff by Bramley (independent brand and local to me), including body lotion and bubble bath and a cute little pillow spray for the deepest of sleeps, and then there’s a really rather exquisite soap from small-batch, luxury-quality soap-makers Soap Poetry.

I found Soap Poetry when I was compiling my Books n Chocs post for 2025 and instantly loved the idea behind the soap wrappings, which were made to look like the covers of classic novels. This sort of stuff is right up my street! But then I got samples of the soaps and smelled them and used them and blimey. Just out of this world. You could use them instead of candles or reed diffusers they’re so gorgeously scented - just leave them in the corner of the room!

Impossible to do that though, because you smell them and just want to use them. Buy them for yourself or buy them as a gift (with a plain-covered, fancy notebook, would be perfect!), they are online here. I cannot pick a favourite scent, they are all gorgeous, but OK then, The Secret Garden. Oh wait. Room With A View.

No!

Pride & Prejudice. Yes, definitely that one. Find Soap Poetry online here.

Do you want your bonus favourite? Here:

Dusk Striped Cushions

Honestly, never have I been so amazed with a bargain buy: six quid each for these striped cushion covers and they are 100% cotton, with a lovely frill, and look massively more expensive. I am picky with my cushions, as we may have discussed before, and tend to only get them from three places: Soho Home (although I have been priced out of those, ridiculous price tags, someone is obviously on laughing gas in their head office), OKA (I grab them when the sales are on, which is now) and Graham & Green.

I rarely veer away. But I loved the colours of the stripes on these and at six quid a pop I didn’t think I could go far wrong. Not for 100% cotton! I stuffed them with slightly oversized feather inners from Graham & Green and they look stupendous. Really, really chuffed. They’re not my usual muted colour palette but I do like the odd splash of brightness (don’t think I’ve ever shared my bathroom on here, we need to do a house tour!) and I also think that they (or the extra ones I’ve ordered) will look marvellous in the new Dorset Nest.

You can get the striped cushion covers here - there are also larger square ones for £8 each! Beautiful as outdoor cushions in the summer, if you remember to bring them in and not get them wet. (So, indoor cushions but used outdoors then.)

Here’s this month’s video with a Dexter the Dog health check-in, video of my toenails and - OH! - I’ve just realised, a trip into my bathroom! That worked out well! And if you enjoyed this post, don’t you think you might massively enjoy my Sunday Times bestselling book, How Not to be a Supermodel? It’ll make you laugh a lot, cry a bit and never, ever want to be a model. You can listen on Spotify or Audible or buy the paperback version here.

I’ve tried to write this post about luxury hotels four times now, but I keep getting the feeling that it’s a bit pedantic. Nit-picky. A whole seven minutes (ish) of your precious time that will be taken up with my luxury hotel gripes. Life’s too short! Let it go! It’s all first world problems of the highest order anyway!

But then, I thought, no. If nobody ever calls out these things, the overpriced restaurants serving reheated frozen food, the fancy resorts charging a fortune for sub-par experiences, then will anything ever change? And what about the people who will spend their hard-earned cash and come away disappointed? Do we owe it to the people after us to firmly, yet politely, voice our concerns when it comes to value and quality?

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After all, it’s not just the yacht-owning banknote-flinging minority who are booking these hotels and restaurants and resorts, I’d hazard a guess that a huge percentage of the guests are people who are treating themselves to what might be the holiday of a lifetime, or the one-off ultra-special anniversary meal. There’s a lot of expectation and emotional energy involved when you’re spending way out of your comfort zone - I now know this from much, much experience!

Picture it: you’ve saved up for a romantic weekend away at a hotel that looks as though it represents the absolute pinnacle of indulgent luxury; you’ve splashed out on the room size above the one that looks like a broom cupboard, you’ve come to terms with the fact that the price you’re paying doesn’t even include breakfast. You’ve justified the whole thing by reasoning that you only live once, you’ve had a tough year, the tyres on the car will surely last another few hundred miles if you drive very, very carefully.

And it’s going to be amazing! Nobody would pay those kinds of prices for a hotel room if it wasn’t simply the best place that had ever existed! Would they? I mean, you get what you pay for, right?

Not always.

Here are some of the luxury hotels I’ve stayed in over the past few years and the things that have let the whole experience down. They might seem rather petty, on paper, but each time the annoyance and then the feeling of disappointment really spoiled the ambience:

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I am trying to book the annual family holiday “somewhere warm” but after the very expensive semi-disaster that was Ikos Olivia last summer, I feel as though I’ve lost my confidence. That was supposed to be the sort of holiday I’d rave about for years to come - a benchmark of holiday perfection. The fact that it fell short, despite its glowing online reviews and real life recommendations, has made me dithery. Especially because there’s no way I would spend that kind of money again: not to be squeezed onto sun loungers with barely a whisker’s breadth between them and to have to queue up to get into a buffet for mediocre lunch. Not when you can pay a fraction of the price for a little villa somewhere and enjoy freshly-cooked food at a little taverna nearby.

(Above: queueing up to get into the buffet at ultra-all-inclusive luxury resort Ikos Olivia.)

This is the eternal holidays-with-kids conundrum, though, isn’t it? I’ve spent a lot of time ruminating over this and going round and round in circles with my pros and cons lists. Reasons hotel resorts are great: the kids are always occupied and there’s ice cream on tap and you don’t have to cook or clean up and there’s a beach right there and you can just leave the towels on the loungers and not have them all hanging over the balcony to dry and someone comes to empty the poo-roll bin next to the toilet and you can have a little cocktail after dinner and feel as though you’ve stepped out of your normal life for a week.

But OH MY GOD! Reasons they are bad: you also have to be in close proximity to hundreds of people you don’t know, a metre away from someone at breakfast who is Facetiming with their Nan through the speakerphone of their iPhone, six feet away from a couple on the beach who are complaining about their nuggets and chips being cold. And even if people are just normal, non-obnoxious holiday-goers, it’s still loads of people and surely being funnelled into the same ten acres of Truman Show village is the exact opposite of what you want to reset your mind and relax your body?

Maybe it’s just me.

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A villa, one situated as remotely as possible, would seem like the answer wouldn’t it? Except no! Also not the escape from reality one so desperately desires, because what about going to Greek Lidl to buy three dozen 2L bottles of water and milk that will curdle before you get it back to the house screams relaxation to you? Name me what it is about a car hire queue that whispers mind and body purified. Does “checking a small-size hatchback (manual gearbox) for existing damage and then negotiating a cliff-edge whilst trying to find a road sign that looks a bit like a dolphin” say emotional reset?

And then what? What about when you lie down by the pool and the kids are bored within an hour, so you have to get into the car to go somewhere, but the interior of the car is burns-level hot and the pleather takes the skin from the backs of your thighs, would you call that a break?

I can now see the appeal in all sorts of holidays - package, luxury, self-catering, even camping - but I can also identify the things I know I’ll hate, just by imagining myself there. And all this is why it has taken me since the end of November to create a very short list of holiday options but an incredibly long accompanying list of all the potential things that could be wrong with them. Send help. (If you’re desperate to see the options list, I might consider sharing. I’m just worried I’ll decide on the villa option and then one of you will have swooped in and booked it.)

On the flip side of all this, I recently went on a three night break to Cornwall with Rich and the dog and it was an absolute roaring success! No notes whatsoever! Give us a week in a luxury resort in Halkidiki and we will count the ways in which it falls short of expectations. Three nights in Port Isaac with freezing temperatures, a too-small bed and a bathroom that was a ten minute walk from the bedroom? Couldn’t have gone better. I don’t think there was a single moment of stress; it was just a totally chilled-out few nights with no solid plans, no high expectations but a real sense of having stepped out of the norm.

I should reiterate, for full transparency, that we were sans kids. I do think holiday success rates tend to shoot up exponentially when you take kids out of the equation, because it completely removes the “same shit, different scenery” element.

I’m not saying I don’t love family holidays - they’re getting easier every year, and with children who are now aged 9 and 10 I feel we might have even hit the sweet spot - I’m just pointing out that an adults-only holiday is always going to be instantly more relaxing. (I’m understating it here to be polite: trips and holidays without kids are hundreds of times more relaxing.)

Anyway, I have analysed our Cornwall trip and worked out why I think it was such a success and I am writing the reasons down here, in this commemorative post, as a handy reference guide. I can look at it when I next book a holiday, which will be soon, and completely ignore all of my own advice. Here we go.

Reasons our mini break to Port Isaac was so good:

Familiarity

I had, until now, always been slightly bemused by people who went to the same holiday locations again and again. There’s a whole world to explore! Why an earth would you visit the same place numerous times? There are quite a few places I really like going back to again and again. New York would be one, though it’s been a while. The Greek islands. Paris. Cornwall. I’ve been to the Lake District dozens and dozens of times, ditto the Isle of Wight (both of them thanks to various relatives living there) but somehow I always feel that the annual “proper” holiday should be to somewhere new and unexplored.

And I do love an adventure, I really do - it’s the spice of life! - but is it not also the case that it’s a bit of a risk, when it comes to holidays? A bit of a gamble? Because pictures lie and online reviews can never be trusted and you never entirely know what’s going to be waiting for you when you arrive? The “exclusive” hotel, jammed in amongst seventeen others that look almost identical. That turquoise sea view they promised that’s only a sea view from one particular spot, if you stand on the toilet seat and crane your neck out of the tiny window. The Air BnB with 4.7* out of 5 that turns out to be next to a sewerage works and a bar that plays Europop until 1am.

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I have to wonder whether there’s a certain comfort in knowing what to expect when you get to your holiday destination. Because we went to Port Isaac, a place we have visited loads of times before, and we had a really great time. Was there something very soothing about knowing what to expect? (Port Isaac and my sheer love of it needs its own post. I realise I’m stacking up extra posts like a house of cards, here, making an absolute rod for my own back, so you might be getting holiday content for the foreseeable!)

When I booked the holiday cottage I knew precisely where it was, I knew what the view would be like and where we would go to the pub and where we’d eat dinner. My mind was clear from all of the usual holiday admin that arises - itineraries, where to park, how to find the accommodation, locating a shop that’s open late in case we need supplies… I had none of the mental mayhem that usually dominates my first night away.

No Flight

Listen, I’m not saying I want to spend every single holiday in the UK for the rest of my life but I do find travelling abroad stupidly stressful. I think Rich does too. This is very odd, considering we are both seasoned travellers who have spent large proportions of our adult lives globe-trotting for our respective jobs, but it’s true. I don’t mind it so much for work stuff, but when it comes to relaxing holidays I can’t say that being herded through an airport with tens of thousands of other people to then sit in a little tin can in the sky makes me feel particularly zen.

The travel part of the holiday ends up pretty much cancelling out any of the relaxation I might gain from the lounging about part, and that’s if everything goes smoothly with car hire and flights being on time and luggage turning up and directions to accommodation being accurate.

Also we both really dislike flying. Rich moderately, me to the point where I have to deep breathe my way through take-off and landing. I wouldn’t say it’s a proper fear of flying, because I will and do fly, but it creates a lot of internal stress that I could do without, if I’m being entirely honest with myself. I do love the guaranteed sunshine and experiencing different parts of the world but equally I travelled a lot in my twenties and so I have a good idea of what I’m missing. I don’t yearn for far-flung places, though I did used to love an American road-trip…

I have noticed that I am far more relaxed and happy when we’re on a UK holiday, whereas many people can only feel truly happy on holiday if they’re abroad. Different strokes. (But, watch me book flights to Greece next week because the “annual holiday abroad” tradition is so deeply ingrained within me.)

Holiday Cottage

My fondness for holiday cottages is well-documented. I’m so into the top-quality self-catering option that I have my own holiday cottage business (The Dorset Nook, and another one coming soon!) and have booked more of them to stay in than I can even remember. I like them because in general you get masses more space than you’d get in a hotel room, you get more privacy, more flexibility to do what you fancy - eat out, eat in, eat crumpets and jam in front of the fire - and you usually pay way less, for all this, than you would a hotel room.

In the past I have been more inclined to book hotels when it has just been the two of us travelling - it has felt more luxurious, more of a treat - but we have had so many mediocre hotel experiences over the past few years that we have almost entirely knocked them on the head. Even my former “top hotel favourites” have disappointed, recently, with terrible sound-proofing issues and other annoyances that have been unforgivable for the price.

So this time I wanted a treat-y feel but without the usual hotel issues and I found a lovely little cottage, right up on the cliff in Port Isaac. It was near enough perfect. Not quite like being in a hotel, luxuriousness-wise, but with amazing views from the windows and its own little garden overlooking the harbour and a total price that was loads, loads less than booking a teeny room at one of the trendy hotels in Cornwall. Did we go for bougee cocktails before sitting down to the sort of dinner that comes with starched linen napkins and smears of foam on the plate? No we did not. We had a pint in the pub and fresh-from-the-sea lobster and it was the most perfect combination we could have asked for.

I questioned whether I was so satisfied with this because we’re getting older but then I realised something else that made the holiday so good:

We Had Low Expectations

By low expectations I don’t mean that I had set the bar low. I didn’t book a holiday fully expecting the location to be rubbish or the cottage to be disappointing. I mean that this wasn’t one of those high-stakes holidays that has the weight of everyone’s happiness resting upon its shoulders. I didn’t over-plan anything or gee the whole thing up in my head in the way that I normally do, especially when I book a fancy hotel stay. I didn’t allow my imagination to run wild, picturing myself eating brioche French Toast on a canopied terrace looking out over the spa’s “healing sound garden”. I didn’t spend hours looking at restaurant reviews on Tripadvisor. I didn’t really care what we did and that was the beauty of it. I realised that a lot of the things I think we need to tick off, for it to be a successful time away, I don’t really like doing anyway.

Finding a different restaurant every evening. Jam-packing the week with special “adventures” to find hidden coves and white-sand beaches that can only be accessed by canoe, at dawn. Ticking off the “must-sees” from the guide book. Fun if the inspiration to do something different suddenly strikes, but I don’t think I need to pre-plan an entire itinerary packed with these things anymore. I quite like the idea of not having to plan anything at all. (Which, to go full circle, was one of the only resounding successes of the Ikos trip: the fact that everything was done for you and no decisions needed to be made. I could truly relax, when I wasn’t feeling ripped off.)

My God, am I coming across as the most boring person in the world? Feel free to unfollow! I’ve done my little list, anyway, for booking the perfect holiday:

1. Don’t fly anywhere

2. Go somewhere familiar

3. Self-cater

4. Don’t overspend and therefore have ridiculously high expectations

Now all that’s left to do is not take any of my own post into account and book a swanky hotel somewhere an eight hour flight away that’s hideously out of my financial comfort zone.

Do you want me tell you about why I love Port Isaac so very, very much? Would you like a run-down of my Cornwall mini-break with Rich? If so, give this post a “like” (press the heart button) and I’ll do a little diary covering where we stayed, where we ate and the thing we did for eight straight hours on the second day. (It’s not that, are you mad!)

If you’re a paid subscriber, look out for a bonus post called “Let-Downs in the Luxury Sector”. This is fast becoming my Mastermind specialist subject - swanky hotels that disappoint, posh brands that fail to deliver - because it riles me no end that we save up for these things so that we can treat ourselves, be wowed by an experience, have our socks knocked off, yet the reality often falls so much shorter than expectation. Expect that at the weekend - one to read as the weather starts to gear itself up for the mini heatwave, if you’re reading in the UK! Woohoo, 29 degrees, who needs to go abroad anyway?

This is my skin at 45. Every year I share my skincare routine and update the online world with any changes I’ve made and results that I’ve seen. This is a slow, relaxed process - I take a lot of time to make these skincare changes and assess whether they’ve had any effect. My face is like some sort of weird, private experiment that I continually observe and critique, which is possibly a terrible idea in terms of my mental health but really excellent for anybody wanting to know what really works!

I’ve been writing and making content about skincare for over sixteen years now and before that I was an international fashion model; I suppose that I have been in mild pursuit of “the best possible skin” for most of my adult life. I say mild because although I have a profound interest in beauty, I’m not preoccupied by it. I have clear limits to what I will do to my face, because although I do care about my looks and I want to feel attractive, I care about my life and my brain and my happiness more and I refuse to entertain this idea that there are things about my physical appearance, especially as I age, that should be “fixed” with procedures involving needles and knives that will poke and pinch and prod me and generally make me feel very upset.

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What I’m saying, without opening up a right can of worms, is that I am relatively low-key: if you’re after the latest advice on facelifts or trending miracle products then this isn’t the place. I haven’t had any injectables or interventions and don’t intend to - unless my eyelids continue to fold over at their current rate and end up hanging directly over my eyeballs, like curtains, thus impeding my vision. Or my neck wattle gets so loose that it becomes a health and safety hazard, for eg if I’m operating heavy machinery or, I don’t know, skydiving, and I can’t have any dangling items.

Then I shall consider it. Or perhaps I won’t. Eye curtains could have their own set of special benefits.

So, at 45, here are the things I do to my skin that work for me. Things I have tested over years - not weeks or days! - using products that I have selected as my favourites from the thousands and thousands of products that have crossed my desk. The basic routine is this and has barely changed for years:

Morning

Quick cleanse - Antioxidant serum - Moisturiser/SPF

Night

Big cleanse - Retinoid - Moisturiser

or

Big cleanse - Peptide serum - Moisturiser

but there are some little additions and bonus steps scattered here and there, like exfoliating masks and - big one - my Current Body LED mask, so I’m going to break it all down for you and go through it step by step.

AD info: this post contains a paid partnership with CurrentBody, who I am proud to have worked with for years - you will see why if you carry on reading! Outbound links are affiliate links and beauty samples are included that have been sent to me with no obligation to feature.

CLEANSING

I cleanse twice a day. My morning cleanse is nearly always a cheat’s one: a quick swipe over with Bioderma Micellar on a cotton wool pad, or some exfoliating acid if I want to kill two birds with one stone, ssshhh. But in the evening I do my mega-cleanse, with a cleansing balm massaged in to break down all of the dirt and SPF and makeup, then warm water to loosen it all and a warm flannel to get it all off.

If you have never cleansed in this way before, by massaging in an oil or a balm (or a robust cream cleanser) and then wash-cloth-ing it off, you are in for a treat. It’s a proper deep clean, with an added bit of light exfoliation from the physical action of the cloth or flannel, and you can break down eye makeup and mascara (non-waterproof) along with everything else and then press the flannel over the eye area to remove.

It’s joyful. I find it very relaxing, especially the massaging-in bit. If you currently do a quick facial wash that lathers up and leaves your skin feeling tight, or you just use cleansing wipes, I can almost guarantee you that you’re not getting all of your face off, especially if you are using products that are designed to stay glued on, like sunscreen and longwear foundation and setting sprays.

Cheap and amazing place to start with a cleansing balm?

Weleda Skin Food Cleansing Balm (here)

Inkey List Oat Cleansing Balm (here)

ANTIOXIDANT

After the dirty-stop-out cleanse in the morning, it’s on with an antioxidant or vitamin c serum. I use this, religiously, because it’s a layer of protection against all of the things that your skin comes into contact with during the day that have the evil intent of shrivelling your face up prematurely into something that looks like one of those grapes that has rolled out of the plastic tub of grapes and gets stuck at the back of the fridge and looks like a deflated balloon.

Vitamin C is also great for brightening and, used consistently, can give your skin a more even tone. I have nothing bad to say about this step - I would not bother to put anything onto my face that wasn’t going to do anything - but what I will say is that if any step is going to make my skin rear up in disgust and then start to itch, it’s the Vitamin C step. I have to be careful. Here are my most-used antioxidant/vit c serums:

Medik8 C Tetra Advanced (here)

Skin Rocks The Antioxidant (here)

Cerave Vitamin C - very purse-friendly option by comparison (here)

MOISTURISER/SUNSCREEN

Or moisturiser and sunscreen, or just sunscreen. The sunscreen is the vital part, here. And most SPFs are now formulated so well that they are hugely hydrating, whether it’s a light gel texture or a richer, more nourishing cream. I’m not going to lengthily bang the drum about sunscreen, you know the drill: if you’re using all the other stuff and layering on mists and lying there under sauna blankets with golden collagen eye patches on BUT YOU’RE NOT WEARING AN SPF IN THE DAYTIME?

You may as well not bother with any of it, if you ask me. It’s like running up the down escalator. Sun exposure is the singular biggest thing that will prematurely age the skin, no amount of correction will ever be as good as the prevention, in this case, and there are sunscreens for all budgets and all skin types and all preferences. I use these loads:

Naked Sundays Cabana Clear Gel - absolutely weightless on the skin, no issues with eye stinging (here)

Alpha-H Daily Essential Moisturiser SPF50 (here)

Tatcha The Milky SPF is new and expensive but my God, gorgeous. Instant love for this. It’s here.

I have upped my sunscreen use recently, even from last year, and now I use the leftover excess on the backs of my hands, too. I am full-on sunscreen a-go-go. As I said, I think it’s probably the most important thing you can apply and it’s never too late to start!

OK, we’re onto the evening routine. You’ve done your day, loaded up with sunscreen and 36hr wear foundation with setting powder and setting spray over the top and now you need to get a chisel out to get it all off. OR you can use a cleansing balm and flannel, as suggested above! And then it’s:

CURRENTBODY SKIN LED MASK TIME

Apart from L’Oreal Telescopic Mascara (have repurchased dozens of times), I do not think I have used another product so consistently and for such a long period of time, as the CurrentBody Skin Red Light Therapy LED Mask. I started trialling this mask when it was still in its original form, the Series 1, but have now been using the CurrentBody Series 2 for two years, religiously, at least three times a week, and I can’t see myself stopping.

The results? They weren’t instant, by any stretch of the imagination - I actually think the first time I trialled this mask was for a 30 day challenge, and I had to feed back that I hadn’t seen much change! - but after a few months of very consistent use, I saw a very noticeable difference to just how even and smooth my skin looked. I didn’t have any obvious pigmentation issues, or areas of concern in terms of crepey skin and so on, which was possibly why it was so hard to observe any change over 30 days, but a couple of months in I caught my reflection and thought I had some sort of blurring makeup on, when in fact I was makeup free. My skin looked more even, more smooth and where my fine lines had been increasing everything seemed just a bit ironed-out and fresher.

Whoo! I mean I haven’t looked back. If I was a dedicated guinea pig I’d do half of my face with and half without for a couple of years but I have my limits! The thing is with LED masks, you have to have the right conditions for the red light to be effective. You have to have consistent coverage (lots of the trendy masks are rigid and don’t shape to the face, so the LEDs can’t possibly all be at the right distance from the skin), you have to have precise wavelengths (even the smallest deviations in wavelength can affect results) and you have to have the right dose. More is not necessarily better!

In the years I’ve been working with CurrentBody I’ve been really impressed with their transparency when it comes to results and their dedication to making sure that each and every mask is delivering on results. They use a process called Veritace® to test every single LED in every mask and make sure that it matches clinical standards; nobody else does this. They guarantee the level of results they claim to give, which is HUGE.

Consistency and patience are key with the CurrentBody LED mask: there’s one set programme of 10 minutes, so you don’t need to worry about session lengths, just make sure you put the mask on 3-5 times a week. I do it last thing so that I can mindlessly scroll cushion covers on OKA and Graham & Green just before I go to sleep, but you can use it on clean skin any time of the day. Listen to a podcast. Snooze. I honestly find it one of the most relaxing habits I’ve ever adopted!

And for skin that looks blurred when it’s not being blurred? Fresher, brighter, smoother? Erm, it is not a hardship to lie there pretending I’m on a hot alien planet. (Niche, don’t judge.) Here’s my makeup-free skin, taken next to a window in an attempt to hopefully show you the evenness of tone and the general brightness I’m talking about, and next to it a photo that was taken just before I started using the LED mask:

The one on the right is almost three years old (I’ve chosen it because I was makeup-free - I was having my colours done!) but I think that the skin around my eyes and the general texture and tone of my skin is much better now than it was then!

If you’ve been dithering about trying the CurrentBody Series 2 Mask (I personally think the Series 2 is a very, very worthy upgrade - it has a snugger fit, has better coverage, has been tweaked since the first version) then I have a Current Body discount code running:

CBRUTHC

that gives you 10% off. You can find the Current Body LED Mask Series 2 online here, £399.99 down to £360.

Yes, it’s a serious investment, but I have started to break it down to cost per month and two years in I’m at around fifteen quid. A pound per LED session. The price-per-wear can only keep on reducing, unless my dog gets hold of the mask again and this time successfully chews through the wire.

RETINOIDS

So. CurrentBody mask onto cleansed skin and then it beeps to say it’s finished, and then what? Well, if it’s a retinoids night then I’ll use a retinoid, if it’s a night off (I alternate, just because I like to pack in a load of peptides and hydration in between) then I’ll use a peptide serum.

There’s a LOT of chat about retinoids. I’ve tried some of the strongest out there (I often use a bespoke Renew & Me cream, which has prescription-only tretinoin in it) and I do think that there’s nothing quite like them for skin-smoothing and spot-stopping and wrinkle-decreasing and just about anything else you can think of.

Some dry my skin out terribly, long-term, and so I now follow any retinoid with a massive dollop of moisturiser, because it does seem counterintuitive to use a retinoid to help plump the skin from within but then look like a dried husk come morning.

I wouldn’t use a retinoid until mid-to-late-thirties, personally, but that’s because I think GOD LIVE YOUR LIFE WHILE YOU CAN AND ENJOY YOURSELF GET A DOLPHIN TATTOO AND DO SOMETHING INADVISABLE WITH A SPANISH WAITER, hardcore skincare actives can surely wait until you’re too old to go on an 18-30 holiday? Each to their own. But also, these things are POTENT and I think that people are using really strong stuff at younger and younger ages and there’s no need. They have smooth skin.

If you are mid/late thirties and above, highly recommend retinoids. They are the dons of the skin serums and creams world - pretty much nothing they won’t try and tackle. If you’re worried about where to start, I like the Medik8 Crystal Retinal range, it has loads of strengths starting with “1”, which is formulated for even the most sensitive skin. You can find them here.

Skin Rocks Retinoids are also staged and excellent with three levels (here) and I do really like the various retinoids from Beauty Pie. Youthbomb Extreme (here) is their most potent (I still find it easily tolerated) but the far cheaper Super Retinol range (here) is properly excellent.

Ooh! I’ve just remembered one of the things that I’m not sure I was doing, when I wrote last year’s skincare routine: rollering retinol onto my neck wattle! Was I doing that? It’s this brilliant stick from RoC - the Derm Correxion Retinol Firming Stick, here - and it’s not actually a roller at all, but it’s shaped like one and so it does feel as though I’m rollering not swiping.

Anyway: I was making a conscious effort to include my neck and chest into my skincare routine (v important, I can tell you, now that I have a face that looks a bit like it has been kept in an airtight container whereas my chest that looks as though it’s made from beef jerky) and I realised that I was always missing out the bit under my chin and at the top of my neck. The RoC roller is the PERFECT shape to fit into this area - it’s very satisfying to apply.

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PEPTIDES

On the other, alternate night, I use a peptide serum. Peptide serums also claim to do nearly everything that retinoids do, which is confusing, but they are different and are great for skin strengthening and boosting collagen production. I like to think of them as medics, for some reason. On my retinoid night I have a load of heavyweights come in and batter the crap out of my skin, for its own good, and then the next night the medics tiptoe in and give it a sports massage.

This is singularly the worst analogy I have ever come up with so I’ll move swiftly on.

I like:

No7 Future Renew Damage Reversal Serum (here)

Medik8 Liquid Peptides Advanced (here)

MOISTURISER

I let the serums do the box-ticking and tend to keep my moisturisers quite simple and light. Though actually, a lot of the ones I use on rotation are also packed with extra goodies. I suppose what I mean is that I don’t think too hard about them - their main purpose is hydration and a lovely squelchy waterbed feeling of plumptiousness when I awake.

Some regularly used:

Beauty Pie Power Elixir Moisturiser (here) (very similar in feel to the Tatcha Dewy Cream)

Weleda Skin Food Light (here)

Aveeno Calm & Restore Night Cream (here)

It’s too expensive to be any kind of sensible, but I love the face mask and this feels like a leave-on version: Dermalogica Multivitamin Power Recovery Cream. If you ever see it on a good offer, it is lovely.

EXFOLIANT

Totally forgot about exfoliants, and now if I add them in at the right place it’ll mess up my streamlined routine overview! I use two types of exfoliant, quick swipe over after the morning “cleanse”: a general, gentle one for most days of the month with a mixture of acids to brighten and smooth, and a BHA one for PMT week to keep my pores cleaned-out and spots at bay. Here are some I have on rotation:

Yepoda Porefect Pad (actually good for PMT week too!) here

Skin Rocks Gentle Acid (here)

Paula’s Choice BHA Exfoliating Liquid for PMT week (here)

This is by no means an exhaustive list of my most-used or favourite skincare products. It’s just a taster, with some options in different price brackets. I hope that you find it useful - you can see that it’s really very few steps, and each step serves a definite purpose. I’ve missed out eye cream because I’m going to talk about those separately, soon - I swing between thinking they’re a great concept and also thinking I may as well just use my face products all over - and I’ve also missed out face masks that I do in the bath because although I get great pleasure from this part of the routine I’m not actually sure it’s strictly necessary. I’ll ruminate and then do a post on that too!

If you’d like to read last year’s skincare post then that is here and the one from the year before, My Skincare Routine at 43, is here.

I’m loath to use the word “project” because it makes me sound as though I’m pretending to be an interior designer, which I absolutely am not in any way, shape or form, but I’m not sure how else to differentiate between episodes in my seemingly continuous stream of house renovations and room refits. In the past ten years I’ve done three whole-house renos, two mega-extensions and turned a garden shed into an all-singing, all-dancing ranch-style work cabin.

What else should I call these undertakings? Should I be cute and label them adventures? Or, worse, journeys? “Projects” lends the whole thing an air of professionalism, I think - makes my relentless succession of property transformations sound more legitimate. Organised. Which it is, this time, thank you very much: it is very organised. Because I’m not doing this interior for myself: it’s for my client, who has a small holiday cottage business focusing on very high-end, beautiful places to stay in Dorset…

YES THE CLIENT IS ME!

Well done if you put two and two together. Some of you are so astute. No flies on you. It’s me, the holiday cottage business owner. I already let out The Dorset Nook, which is a gorgeous cottage on the Jurassic Coast, and in a couple of months I will be adding The Dorset Nest to the mix. A beautiful fairytale thatched cottage in a tiny village in the depths of rural West Dorset. I just need the interiors woman (me) to get her act together with an interiors and furnishing scheme that comes in on budget, which has been set by the owner (also me), so that the builder, decorator and project manager (Rich, conveniently married to me) can get started.

PERUSE THE DORSET NOOK

The problem is that I find the whole process far too enjoyable. Searching for property, weighing up the suitability of it, working out how I’d turn it into something delightful, it’s virtually irresistible to me. I would rather look at houses and plan out their interiors more than almost anything else in the world. I’ve been preoccupied by the whole thing since I was small: obsessed with dolls houses and their furnishings and wallpapers and tiny accessories and then, as I got older, generally just fascinated by interesting houses and their owners and all of the decisions the owners make, consciously or without really knowing it, to make their homes unique.

I wanted to own a bed and breakfast when I was growing up - not because I particularly relished the idea of having to get up at 5am to make Mr and Mrs Ravenscroft a boiled egg each before their early departure, but because it would mean lots more rooms to decorate and find furniture for.

Dwellings, in general, just make my heart flutter. Anything from Mrs Tiggy-Winkle’s burrow to huge stately homes, the witch’s cottage in Hansel and Gretel to a fisherman’s loft in a barnacled harbour: show me them all! I want to know what the kitchen table is like and what patterns they have on the curtains and how many blankets are layered beneath the little patchwork quilt.

(There’s a strong lean, I have to say, towards cottage-y things and old houses when I’m doing all of this swooning and heart-fluttering. The fact I live in a quite masculine-looking mid century house does not escape my notice or curiosity and we shall return to this subject shortly.)

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So yes, you can imagine that doing up an entire little thatched-roof cottage, for my actual job, is heaven on earth. But still, there’s this familiar sense of anxiety about it all. What if I choose the wrong things? What if I paint it all bright green because I think it’s edgy and then have to tell Rich to paint over it again because I hate it and it takes four coats of Obliterate before the green stops showing through? (True story.)

Shall I tell you where I start, when I’m thinking about colour schemes and how to decorate? When I’m working out how I’m going to furnish a room? Rhetorical question, actually, because I’m going to plough ahead whether you like it or not, but if you really don’t fancy hearing about my big sack of samples (lol) then navigate away from this page and read one of the many articles about the Met Gala that are floating around.

The following steps are the ones I take when I’m thinking about how to do a new room - or entire place - and panic that I have no idea where to start. Are these tips? Possibly. But it’s more of a thought process - a little guide to finding out what you like and then some pointers on what to do with that precious information.

1. FIND OUT WHAT SORT OF INTERIORS YOU ACTUALLY LIKE

This might sound obvious. Maybe you’ll say, I really like rustic farmhouse chic. Whatever that is. Or I love a Miami South Beach vibe. (Again, no idea. But keep going.) The problem with this, saying you love a certain style, is that it doesn’t help much if you don’t have a wood-beamed farmhouse kitchen to do up, or a white-rendered art deco house surrounded by palms.

What I think you have to do, personally, before you do anything else, is work out what exactly makes your heart beat faster when it comes to houses and interiors. You could even start with these styles you’ve just mentioned. What is it you like about the farmhouse look? Is it the cosiness? Is there an elegance to it? Is it the use of natural materials like oak for the beams and stone for the flagstones?

I think the best way to find all of this out, to work out what sort of home you want to create, is to collect together lots of pictures that you love and find out what links them. Do not use Pinterest for this, or Instagram, it’s too easy to go down a rabbit hole and also half the photos now seem to be AI which means that those interiors don’t even exist. Madness to use it as a starting point. What’s better is to get two or three interiors magazines instead, in real life. They could be old ones, it doesn’t matter, because we’re not following trends, here, we’re working out what calls to us.

Ka-kaaaa!

Sit there with the magazines and some scissors and cut out all of the images that you’re drawn to - it could be anything from a teapot to a mattress advert - and then take a good look at the collection at the end and be honest about what reels you in.

Is there loads of bold colour? Or are you drawn to clean, minimalist spaces? Realise that you can love both and also you can have loads of different interiors styles in the photos that you’ve selected. I live in a mid century house that could have been designed by AI using the prompt “James Bond ski lodge owned by an evil oil baron” but I also go silly over teeny cottages with log-burners and can’t get enough of silk pleated lampshades and oak-framed carver chairs. I have a cabin at the top of my garden that serves as my work studio and that looks like something out of Yellowstone, crossed with Soho Farmhouse.

The things that tie them all together? These spaces? I’d say the first thing is natural materials. Wood and stone. And then loads of layering of materials - wood next to stone, wool over wood, pattern over pattern. A muted colour palette of earthy tones. Cosy but calming on the mind. And everything looks lived in, but also sort of refined and well-considered. I think?

So. Cut out the images that make you feel good. Work out what it is about them, down to the most basic, basic element, that you love. Write those things down on a little checklist. Make that your mission statement for when you’re doing your house or room. Or even choosing a new sofa, changing a paint colour, thinking of how to frame a picture - if you’re dithering, go back to your checklist and your little pile of images. Does what you’re choosing make you feel the same way?

2. NARROW YOUR MATERIALS AND COLOURS DOWN TO A VAGUE PALETTE

You don’t have to do this. Or anything I’m suggesting on this page for that matter. This is just what I do and it’s very helpful to have it to refer to when I need to stop dithering about. If you’re prone to procrastination then sometimes too much choice is the enemy! I like to have a basic palette of ten or so paint and wallpaper colours and a few textures and materials that always make me feel at home and good about life. Velvets in dark, rich olives and deep figs. Weaves in multi-tones of warm brown and purplish beiges and taupes and hints of green. Faded, antiqued rugs, heavily patterned.

It has taken over ten years to really narrow things down to the shades I know I love, but now that I have, every successive project is a million times easier. (For paid subscribers, there’s a breakdown of my colour palette and the fabrics and textures I use again and again later on in this post. If you like the layered, lived-in look that I tend to go for then they’re nice resources to bookmark. You can use a free trial to unlock it, too.)

They’re usually warm neutrals, often with a red base. When I veer away from these, it’s always a mistake, which is why I really don’t like our bedroom wallpaper. It makes me feel edgy. It’s a palm leaf print but greyish-green and it’s out of sync with the entire rest of the house. And the ceiling is light! The contrast is too much, it irks me every time I look up, which is a lot, because it’s a bedroom and I spend much time horizontal.

Anyway! I think it’s quite fun putting a palette together. You can get big colour sample sets with large swatches from Farrow & Ball, they give you a better idea than those tiny squares, if you’re being all professional about things, and you can take the large swatches out and place them all side by side and so on. Great stuff. Hours of fun if you, like me, are unhinged about this sort of thing.

And this is where Pinterest does become helpful, because you can search pictures by paint colour and then hundreds of rooms come up and it gives you a good idea of what you might want to add to your shortlist. But keep referring back to your little original “love it” images - which tones drew you in then? Why? How do certain colours make you feel?

3. PLAY ABOUT JOYFULLY WITH SAMPLES AND SWATCHES

The most useful thing I ever do, when I’m thinking about how to decorate or furnish a new room (or cottage, seeing as though that’s what I’m doing at the moment), is haul out my gigantic bag of fabric and wallpaper samples. I also have bits of wood flooring in there, parts of floor tiles and even short sections of aluminium window frame. I’ve collected all of these over many years, but I love to clank them all out onto the floor and see how various textures and finishes sit together. It fulfils some kind of artistic need in me, without me having to draw or paint, which I’m rubbish at, so I find the whole thing very therapeutic.

The wallpaper and fabric samples are easy to collect. Most online furniture places will send you fabric swatches for free, John Lewis will do it with curtain fabrics, upholstery fabrics and wallpaper samples, Next will send curtain and upholstery squares. So will Dunelm. All convenient places, off the top of my head, it takes minutes to order them and it’s absolutely invaluable to see the real life materials in front of you and hold them in your hands.

Oh! And collect the samples in the colours and fabrics you are drawn to, NOT the ones you think will “fit your aesthetic”. Do away with this idea of an aesthetic, anyway: personally I want to live in a home that feels like me, not in a theme-park! OK fine, if you do your bedroom and it’s totally, like, Parisian Girl chic, then whatever. It has happened naturally. Don’t set out with Parisian Girl chic as your specific aim: remember the sorts of things you were drawn to in your pictures! Use the force, Luke! Don’t be swayed! Always go back to your little mission statement! Things I am drawn to.

4. BUY THINGS YOU LIKE

Once you’ve sorted out what colours you love, and whether you get turned on by flocked floral wallpaper and contrast neon woodwork or walls painted stark white, you can begin to look at things to order. But - and this seems like a really obvious one - only buy things you actually like. Don’t buy something you think is alright because it’s in the sale, or because it’s grey and so is your rug and so it’ll kind of match. Don’t buy just because “it’ll do”. There are so, so many options now of absolutely everything, in every single price range, from lamps to armchairs, from garden swing seats to toasters; there will almost always be an option that stands out to you and makes you think yeah, that’s the one I love!

(OK maybe not toasters. But actually yes, even toasters, because maybe you’re thinking you’ll get the pink SMEG one that you’ve seen loads of people feature on Instagram but when you go back to your mission statement, it says clean, graphic, calm, ordered, monochrome, and if those are the things that make you go ooohh then I would highly recommend the Dualit Architect 4 slice toaster. You’re welcome.)

There were only supposed to be three steps to this “where the hell to start with doing a house” thing, I’m not sure how we ended up with four. I think it’s because I started to dip into the “buying things” quagmire, when I was only going to talk about paint colours and fabrics. If you like this sort of thing, I can share the mood boards for the new cottage - The Dorset Nest - and tell you what I’ve ordered so far. Let me know in the comments, or click the heart button. You can follow The Dorset Nest on Instagram here to be the first to know when bookings go live and I also have a dedicated interiors page, @casacrilly if house stuff floats your boat!

Now for my vague, not-too-strict colour palette and most-used fabrics panel:

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So do click play on the video screen once you’ve finished reading: some newer subscribers may not know this, but the Youtube video is actually the main event. I have been filming my favourites for well over a decade and I enjoy it because it’s a nice chance for me to waffle in a more relaxed way about things such as cat sick, aching wrist joints and hair thinning.

And if that little teaser doesn’t hook you in then, quite honestly, I don’t know what will. Let’s get cracking on the favourites.

Ad info: no paid or sponsored content. Post contains affiliate links and press samples sent with no obligation to feature.

BareMinerals Complexion Rescue Luminous Skin Tint Foundation Stick

This is not the foundation to buy if you want proper coverage, where your skin is no longer really your skin but a layer of clever pigment and blurring stuff and whatever other lovely trick the cosmetics company has up its sleeve. This is the foundation to buy, however, if you don’t actually like foundation, prefer lighter coverage bases like tinted moisturiser and are seduced by anything that is ridiculously quick and easy to use.

Because this, my friends, this stick of dewiness, could not be any quicker or easier to use. You just take off the lid, scribble it over your face like a demented toddler and then quickly blend in with a brush or sponge. You can use fingertips, yes, but for me that renders the stick format of the product totally pointless because the very beauty of the stick is that you don’t have to get your hands dirty. Just bish bash it on and blend.

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And it’s sheer, this Luminous Skin Tint Stick. But it gives a healthy glow and just enough colour to knock back redness and dark circles a little and create a more even skintone. Those who prefer the undone, no-fuss look, who want that barefaced kind of chic, who dislike looking “made up”, who want to apply the sheeniest layer of something in the quickest possible time: they will love this.

It’s smooth and creamy to apply, excellent for drier skin, slips a little on oilier patches by the end of the day, but works magnificently well if you just spritz a bit of setting spray over those areas if you need more longevity. For people who simply want a touch of colour and polish to see them through from 9-5: marvellous.

It’s £28.50 here: shade-picking felt complicated, but I trusted Findation to choose me the right one and it came up with 06 Ginger. Added some warmth and initially I was scared it would be too orangey on me but it blended out to perfection!

Oilatum Bath Emollient

I ran out of this last week and I think the fact that I immediately ordered another bottle, without hesitation, speaks volumes. Oilatum Emollient is a bath additive that helps to keep very dry, sensitive skin hydrated whilst you soak. I started using it when I had that weird shin eczema flare-up from hell after spending three solid days in the Center Parcs pool. I knew that baths weren’t ideal in that scenario, but I find it hard to live without them - they are a central part of my unwinding evening routine and also necessary for me to function, professionally, because I have all of my best ideas in the bath. (True fact. Also when driving. Or on the rare occasion I have a facial or treatment. Basically I have my best ideas when I can’t write them down.)

Anyway, I chucked a bit of this into my bath each time and I’m sure it helped to keep my shin skin soft and supple, rather than unbearable itchy.

I also like the Aveeno Oat Bath sachets for skin-soothing and softening, and they are made of oats rather than, er, paraffin, which definitely sounds a lot more wholesome doesn’t it, but I find they make the bath a bit messy. The Oilatum is quick and convenient.

Oilatum Emollient for Bath is here online.

Vita Liberata The Glaze Peptide Tanning Serum

I can’t remember the last time I used proper fake tan, the one where you can potentially dye yourself a totally different colour, complete with mottled tie-die effect behind the knees and between the boobs and anywhere else you didn’t allow to dry properly for at least nine hundred hours before dressing.

This Glaze, from Vita Liberata, is not one of those fake tans. This is a peptide serum, first and foremost, delivering potent skincare ingredients and helping to smooth the skin and give a proper glow. The natural tan aspect is the bonus element. It’s subtle, but it’s absolutely there - and in the same way as the Bare Minerals foundation stick, above, it’s for people who appreciate low-key beauty that enhances and subtly “takes the edge off”.

That’s actually how I’d describe the level of tan: it takes the edge off. Gives a hint of sunkissed warmth. Two applications and you start to feel as though you’re really relaxing into your non-existent beach holiday in the Maldives - the glow is deeper, the colour is more obvious. But still entirely foolproof.

(I mean, obviously follow the usual self tan rules, like washing your hands afterwards and avoiding very dry bits if you have knees like velcro etc.)

Is there a smell to this? Faint. It is in no way overtly biscuity. It’s about the same level as the Gatineau Gradual Tan, which - if you asked me to compare - I’d say is slightly more potent, in that the effects are perhaps more visible after one application, but a different type of body product. It’s a creamy body lotion with a bit of tan, whereas the Glaze is all about the peptides with a bonus sunkissed glow.

You can find the Vita Liberata Glaze here, the Gatineau Gradual Tan is here.

Oh my God I almost forgot: the packaging! I love it. So tactile, so stylish. So unique. 10/10 for the bottle design, it’s one of the loveliest things I’ve seen in ages.

Beauty Pie Leave-In Conditioner

This is fast becoming my most-used leave-in conditioning product. Over the years I’ve had very long attachments to Aveda’s leave-ins (smell glorious), Kerastase pre-styling conditioners and, most lately, the Moroccanoil leave-in conditioner. But I have to say that the Beauty Pie spray is the most foolproof for me, with my fine hair that has the tendency to go limp and flat at the roots: I can spritz it in pretty much all over and I get soft, silky hair that never feels weighed down or greasy.

The Moroccanoil spray is more potent, and leaves a glossier sheen, but I do find it very easy to go OTT with it and end up with a little more, er, silkiness, than I had bargained for. Both are beautiful products.

My dry, bleached hair needs the extra stage of conditioning - even though 95% of the time I let it air dry naturally, without a little spritz of something nourishing it just dries into a bunch of semi-brittle frizz at the ends. With the conditioner applied when it’s half dry, it’s more manageable and has shine. So there.

You can find the Beauty Pie leave-in here and the Moroccanoil one here.

OKA Cushions

Oh! And just like that, we’ve gone from conditioners to cushions. Really you need to watch the video below to get the full sense of how much I love OKA cushions but to precis:

1. They are of a very respectably large size, 51cm, so they look luxurious and imposing and non-apologetic. If you layer them with other non-OKA cushions, they seem to lift the overall feel of quality and excellence, they’re team players like that.

2. The prints and fabrics are lush.

3. They usually have fancy trims on them, whether it’s fringing or piping around the edge, and I think that these little details make all the difference.

I don’t feel I need more reasons, I have said my piece. When I originally raved about OKA cushions it was because there was a sale on and the sale usually brings them down to a price that is not horrendously more than the fancier ones at John Lewis. Well worth the extra investment at any rate. Then everyone asked about them again but the sale had finished, so I felt bad. Now I’m writing about them again and they have 30% off this weekend on selected styles!

You can find the whole range here.

Right, get stuck into the video and learn more about my wrist pain, knee pain and thinning hair.

Now for two things that were definitely not in the running for my monthly favourites round-up. An observation and a semi-rant, especially for paid subscribers, because I know how you love it when I moan:

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I don’t even know how I ended up in a go kart; the day started very normally and I had no intention of spending my evening surrounded by kids who were hyped up on blue slushies, breathing in air that was approximately 87% carbon monoxide and squeezing myself into a contraption that looked like something I made from Meccano, Christmas ‘87.

But my nine year-old wanted to go, he was allowed a “treat” of his choosing for reasons I won’t bore you with and that is what he chose. He’s quite into the Go Karting idea, in the way that nine year-olds are into anything, ie for around three hours until the next enthusiasm comes along. I am not into the Go Karting idea, because it has to be one of the most expensive hobbies a child could come up with, after, I don’t know, horse-riding. Skiing? None of these things are within my remit, I have no idea, I’m just guessing. They all sound expensive and look expensive. We had Youth Club and Brownies in my day and both of those cost 75p per session.

(My Mum will be going crackers if she reads this. YOU ALL HAD MUSIC LESSONS AND THEY COST ME A FORTUNE! Which is true. But at least with music lessons there’s some sort of cap to the equipment needed. You just buy one flute, for example. You don’t then have to buy shoes and saddle for the flute, or tyres and petrol for the flute, or pay for the flute to go somewhere that has snow and a ski lift. I’ve lost my way with that analogy, haven’t I?)

Anyway, yes. I have no plans to allow Go Karting to become a hobby unless the nine year-old suddenly displays some kind of superhuman prowess for taking chicanes at top speed, but the odd go, now and then, totally on board with. And yesterday was a “now and then” so I went online to try and book a session. Popular, this karting thing! The only session left for kids was in something called “family hour” and, the booking site stated, an adult had to “race” too.

Picturing happy mums and dads pootling about the track, waving to their little offspring and generally having a wholesome time, I booked two adult tickets (no way Rich was getting out of it) and one for the nine year-old and off we went. Checked in. Bought balaclavas. Gloves. Got handed racesuits, which were actually quite cool-looking. Changed into the racesuits, which frankly looked ridiculous on us adults but cute on the nine year-old. Went and stood with the other families down in the pit and - OH!

What other families? No other families, that’s who. Just eight other kids ranging from approx. nine years old to maybe twelve or thirteen, and then me and Rich looking like the village idiots, standing there gigantically with our stupid balaclavas on, about three feet taller than the next tallest human. You know the adults who go on the tiny children’s rides, at Disney, without children? That’s who we looked like. I felt as though I’d gone to a party in fancy dress when everyone else was in normal attire. Never have I felt so conspicuous.

The balaclavas didn’t help. I was hoping there’d be a bit of Days of Thunder frisson, perhaps Rich would look a bit titillating and I’d later want him to, you know, fine tune my engine. But no. He had a black balaclava covering his head and lower half of his face and looked like a medieval baron awaiting his chainmail before battle. I had a bright blue balaclava on that exposed my entire face and looked exactly like Dangerous Brian.

The indignity didn’t stop there. Have you ever tried to climb into a Go Kart? Recently? The angle at which you are required to descend into the seat is barely achievable unless you’re at an age where your skeleton is yet to fully fuse together. You must lower yourself to ground level, with your feet and legs extended all the way in front of you, basically cantilevering yourself to defy gravity, all via the knee joints. I almost snapped. Try doing that with nine boys lined up in their karts behind you. Wearing a crash helmet that’s making you feel incredibly panicked. (I’m a bit claustrophobic. Hadn’t ever thought putting on a crash helmet would trigger it but there you go!)

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Now before we go on know this: I am no stranger to the concept of the racetrack. I was car obsessed as a late teen and into my early twenties and the entire road system of Redditch, Worcestershire, was my racetrack. How I’m still alive I have no idea. It wasn’t clever, and it makes me physically cringe now when I think about it, but you feel invincible at that age and I did learn how to recover from high speed spins, slides and potentially fatal skids at a relatively tender age. Sorry Mum. Fast forward a few decades and I’ve also done a little bit of low-key racing about the place at Silverstone, with Porsche: I get the general gist of what you’re supposed to do. Go as fast as possible but take the best, most efficient lines and do not spin or hit the barriers or other cars.

“This is NOT bumper cars.” Said the safety man in our safety briefing, which we all had to sit through for twelve minutes but then promptly forgot half of.

So the only part I wasn’t worried about was the driving part, not in the slightest. I love driving. Go Kart track? Not. A. Problem.

Well. I can tell you that a go kart is nothing like a car. No heated seat, which is one of the great joys in life in my opinion, but also, steering so heavy that it was like trying to drive one of those eighteen wheeler American trucks from the 1950s. I’ve driven a World War 2 tractor (don’t ask) and that had lighter steering than my go kart! I immediately felt my wrists start to seize, the muscles going into spasm. Every corner felt like a monumental effort, like I was the captain of a ship trying to navigate away from an iceberg during a world-ending storm.

But it was all good fun once we got started. Rich warned me not to be competitive, which I didn’t quite understand because I am the least competitive person ever, and hello we were racing with children so it wasn’t as though I was going to be blocking them from overtaking me, whilst at the same time aggressively overtaking those in front, all whilst screaming “TAKE THAT, YOU LITTLE MOTHERFUCKERS!”

Was it.

So apart from the lasting damage to my skeletal-muscular system I have no real complaints, other than it was very noisy (which I hate), fume-y (gave me a headache) and people kept crashing into the barriers which meant we all had to be on a go-slow every thirty seconds. Have you ever driven a go kart at walking pace? It feels like the most pointless exercise ever invented. I’d have rather just been able to put my brakes on and have a little rest. Stretch out the wrists. Do a bit of meditative body-scanning to see whether all of the parts of my spine were still connected.

I know what you’re asking yourself: where did she rank on the leaderboard? And I shall tell you, if you insist. Third! Absolutely bloody delighted, even though the majority of the competition hadn’t had twenty-eight years of driving experience and were half my height. You have to take the wins where you can in this life, even when it’s a bronze. Had people not kept crashing all over the shop - amateurs - I’m pretty sure I’d have been up there on the podium, shaking champagne all over myself whilst all of the normal parents watched on, thinking what is that mad bint DOING?

I do wonder what the other parents thought of us, me and Rich, whizzing about on our human-sized karts while all the miniature people did their thing. It was all a bit Gulliver’s Travels. And I couldn’t understand why these parents weren’t having to race too, when I was sure that the booking form had explicitly said family hour and that adults had to race alongside their children. I was going to take it up at reception on my way out but I was too busy inwardly gloating. I had come third, not rammed any children out of the way - not even my own child! - and had even mostly kept my cool when one of them had overtaken me when the yellow light was flashing, when it was STRICTLY NO OVERTAKING YOU LITTLE SHIT!

Would I recommend it as an adults-fun activity? Not really. I woke up with hands that felt as though they’d spent the past eight months digging me out of Alcatraz and a backbone that apparently had fused itself into one unbendable unit overnight. My neck! My back! But third. Out of eleven. The thrill. Maybe it was all worth it…

*this is a joke, I do actually do quite a lot of heavy lifting. But the side to side steering movement is another thing altogether, I think.