In case you haven’t heard me bang on about it enough, last week I was really ill withe the flu. It was awful – it takes a lot for me to down tools, stop work and call in the big guns (i.e. Grannie) for help – and I was in bed for close to a full week.
Cleansing balms are the best. We are so lucky to be alive in this magical age where we don’t have to dry our faces out with foamy soaps but can instead look after our skin with oils and balms.
Good times, people. Good times.
So let’s talk about my number one, shall we? The amazing, the magnificent: Clinique’s Take The Day Off Balm.
Last year I was lucky enough to do a few photoshoots, some for magazines and a couple for brands. Aside from making me feel like a monumental twat on occasion (Heidi Klum I am not), it’s largely a fun experience, something that’s a little outside of the day to day.
I must go in a Boots store at least once a week. I remember it from when I was spending my very first wages from my very first job as a pot washer in the pub in the next village. I earned the princely sum of £3.00 an hour – I can still see the orange eyeshadow palette I bought from No7 that autumn. It ROCKED.
My tastes have moved on a bit since then but my Boots loyalty has not.
I‘m constantly talking about how tired I am. The affect this tiredness has on my all-over wellbeing: my skin, my eyes, my fitness. My sleep deprivation touches every part of my life and I wholeheartedly believe that if I got more sleep my life would be completely different.
It’s winter beauty time!
I’m probably not going to endear myself to anyone by telling you this, but ever since I have switched to Paleo my skin has been insane. Insane in a good way. I had one zit the whole of last month and it was one of those hormonal ones that arrives in THAT WEEK and disappears as soon as the tampons get put back in the cupboard.
Autumn is the season when my skin starts freaking out. It becomes a shade of what I like to call ‘farmer rugged’ thanks to a combination of the cold air, central heating and lack of sunshine. I get dry patches on my nose and cheeks and as an added extra bonus due to the house move I’ve noticed my forehead lines are getting deeper.
When I was in London for BritMums recently my roomie Steph and I took our old decrepit arses out for dinner. We ate at The Diner in Shoreditch, somewhere I used to frequent in the heady single days of yore. They do a great burger, their cheesy fries are amazing and they add alcohol to their milkshakes. Enough said.
As you may imagine, a restaurant like this is full of lots of young people.