I write a blog because this is a quite acceptable way of being completely self-absorbed. I have much to say about myself and my random life and need a whole website all to myself to share my experiences, thoughts and opinions.
And Lara's Got a Bee in Her Bonnet (Forward Slash Some Poppies on Her Head) My mum (Pineapple founder Debbie Moore OBE) had a party at London’s most stylish venue, The Ivy Club, to celebrate her photo (by Paul Wolfgang Webster) becoming part of the National Portrait Gallery’s permanent exhibition, and because she’s receiving an Honorary Master of Arts Degree from UCA... Read More...
Ooooh, my first blog on my re-vamped Kiss My Cherry website! With a special place for me to yabber on about myself! Well at least, unlike highly irritating social networking site status-update enthusiasts (forward slash “losers”), I’m not going to be re-hashing the minutiae of my day-to-day and broadcasting what I just ate and how bloated I feel. Except on veeeeery slow days. Whilst I’m on the subject of those petri-dishes of vacuity and ego, AKA social networking sites, let me just put it out there; no one needs to know you’re... Read More...
I’m ensconced in bed surrounded by furniture piled up to the rafters because the painters are in (not a crude euphemism.)Every other room is covered in dustsheets and debris which is not wheelchair-friendly terrain. If I attempt to wheel anywhere, I end up dragging floor-sheets, ladders, paint and painters along in my wake. I’m fully dressed, under 2 duvets (heating a no-no with fresh paint) and I haven’t bathed because the bath’s being fixed, although I’m currently in dispute with the plumber over the exact definition of the word “fixed”. He... Read More...
My Mum OBE’s dance studios is TV smash hit. And I’m in it. A bit. I haven’t written my blog for ages because I’m naughty plus I’ve been feeling unwell for weeks which is dull and not great blog-writing material. I’ve had intermittent headaches and nausea, a sore tummy and I’ve been listless as a wilting poppy. See? It’s hard to make symptoms sound interesting or funny, although I did laugh when I was complaining about feeling rubbish to my good friend who nodded sympathetically then said in all serious-ness; “It’s not cancer is... Read More...
Lara and her Mum visit the Queen for some pomp and ceremony OBE stylee Firstly, I must apologise for the late filing of this highly anticipated royal blog. I know you have all (well definitely my mum and my sister) been eagerly awaiting the inside scoop on what really goes on behind closed palace gates and I have been chomping at the bit to spill the jewel-encrusted beans. However, I was struck down by a raging fever mid-Royal Revelations Blog followed by a migraine so terrible and persistent that I would have written my will had I been... Read More...
Lara Dedicates Blog to her Mum; Not RIP but OBE! My blog is very personal. This statement is of course a euphemism for “it’s all about me". Me me me. Me me me me me. And if anyone else gets a look in, I soon find a way to bring it back to my previous point i.e.; me! But today’s blog is quite exceptional because I am dedicating it to my Mum. (Don’t worry she’s not dead.) Now, I do not usually talk about my Mum because then I would not be talking about me. However, without my Mum, there would be no me and no blog about me and you would... Read More...
Because it’s fun crossing out numbers Here I am with Josie who helped look after me when I was a wee bairn and has never managed to shake me off. We are at the Bingo. This is where someone shouts out numbers, you mark them off of your card and in this environment you actually hope your number is up because then you win money. It's fun even if you lose because there are chips. And when we went this week it was £3 for a turkey dinner, glass of fizzy wine, a chocolate-filled stocking and one-man cabaret belting out My Way and That’s Amore... Read More...
I have been looking for a new carer for while now. I say the word “carer” through gritted teeth, I realise people understand it to mean someone who helps a disabled person but it’s a very patronising and wholly inaccurate description; “carers” are no more caring than other people or I wouldn’t find myself carer-less in the first place. My last carer, or P.A, as I prefer to say, Tabby, was a dream. It wasn’t that there weren’t times when she left the front door wide open when we went out or managed to dismantle the “immobiliser chip” from... Read More...