When I was a kid, I remember feeling angry a lot. My anger was fast, scattered and powerful – like those scenes in movies where the bad guy storms in and starts shelling indiscriminately. When teenaged me had the hump, everyone got it. If I had to draw a picture of my fifteen year old… Read More When are children not children? When they are a tempest.
Writing is one hell of a job. I can totally understand those people who give up life altogether and instead find themselves eyeball-deep in the pressure of waking up every day with the belief that they can commit words of value onto a screen/notebook or whatever.
You are my CV. Today I write for a living because you told me I can. You asked me to write for you and wouldn’t take no for an answer. You published me and showed me kindness. You edited me, but were immovable. You believed in me and pushed me fiercely. You scrutinised my words… Read More Dear Martin,
When Martha Lane Fox lost her shit over Alexa, I – a lone woman in the front row – audibly cheered. “We’re about to build a future that is very, very much not female and that is so profoundly bad for humanity. It upsets me that people shout at an Alexa in the corner of… Read More My tits felt huge and I felt small: Why London Tech Week talks the talk, but the reality is very different.
Radio 4 is my morning jam. For years, daughter and I have enjoyed the dulcet tones of John Humphries over cous cous/waffles/crumpets (her. She has the fickle tastes of her mother) and poncey herbal tea (yours truly). Mornings with Auntie are the place where my inquisitive ten year old has made all manner of discoveries… Read More Why ‘The Penis Beaker’ will be the death of us.