Work is tiring.

Oh yes, I did just say that.

I’ve completed my first week of proper, adult work (this is not to say that I have never worked before – indeed, I was a shop manager in my previous life) and I am tired. Today, I slept until 2. Yesterday, I slept until Mama Fox phoned me at 5 in the afternoon, and I fear I would have slept even longer had she not acted as a wake-up call.

It is strange to be back at work full time. I have not had full-time employment since my early uni years, when I would return to my hometown during the holidays and work every hour under the sun to try and claw my way out of the depths of my overdraft. When the company I worked for went under (Principles, RIP), I was about to start the third year of my degree course and decided to concentrate on that and survive on what I could. And so it was for my subsequent third year of uni (yes, yes) and post-grad qualification, whereby I became rich in qualifications and far less so in monetary terms. Needless to say, academic life, followed by the now inevitable period of unemployment, has bequeathed me a sleep pattern best described as chaotic, bordering on nocturnal. 9-6 (and no break! How and when will I nap?!) is going to take some getting used to.

Friends, I have spent most of this weekend asleep, and I am still tired. How long before I emerge from my unemployed, student chrysalis as a fully functional grown-up?


I’m writing this way ahead of time (Sunday, no less) as I’ll be back in my home town this week for Mama Fox’s birthday. She may be the wrong side of 45, but there’s life in her yet, so I’m sure I’ll be running around like a blue-arsed fly for most of next week. All of her gift demands have been met – the realistic ones – but I’m sure she’ll come up with a few more. Wish me luck.

This week’s Tuesday Tune is a catchy little thing. Oddly, it is one of those songs that sounds better live than it does in the actual radio edit. Anyway, I like it; the sexy Southern lilt, the guy with the impressive beard, and the fact that she can bust one hell of a move.

Ice Cream Fashion

Imagine, for one moment, AnOther opened an ice cream parlour. All the flavours inspired by looks of the fashion season. You’d come, right?

Fuck, yeah!

Illustrations by AnOther’s Tom Baxter. Concept by Laura Bradley and Agate Belcen.

Marc Jacobs’/Stracciatella

Nicolas Ghesquiere for Balenciaga/Nocciola

Fendi/Banana (Miss Fox’s favourite)

Haider Ackermann/Triple Chocolate

Raf Simons at Dior/Pistachio (Mama Fox’s favourite!)

The Staves

Lovely, lovely, lovely.

In other news, Mama Fox is in LDN today, woo! She rarely comes down to see me as the Underground terrifies her (It took several phone calls before she felt sure of the route from Marylebone to Holborn – it’s four stops), and she is inexplicably more broke than I am. We have a fun day ahead of us getting free hair cuts and trying to find somewhere to eat in Central London that will accept Clubcard vouchers. We know how to live.

I fink u freeky

I thought I would celebrate this fine tuesday evening with a little tune.

Listening to this song reminds me of the time when one of Mama Fox’s stoner colleagues (she was manager of a kid’s playground, it was the late nineties, and all the male staff had waist-length hair) first played me something by The Prodigy, and blew my 10 year old mind.

S Club 7 this is fucking not.