Pop

Pop

Pop Music is evocative and few people can recall the headiness of youth without linking it to a soundtrack that drips, stickily with audio nostalgia. Sometimes, memories are tinted rosier by the opening bars of their 16 year old self’s favourite album and, often, the...
Hangovers

Hangovers

By Flora Cramp The Cramps have an Easter Sunday tradition of visiting Auntie Maureen, taking her somewhere ‘nice’ where she can have a walk and eat a scone, and then arguing about whether Paul Shane was in anything after Hi-de-Hi, until it’s time to go home. My input...
Sweary Freebies

Sweary Freebies

Morning All, Amongst what I believe is known as a ‘Portfolio Career’ I do graphic design and other digital jiggery-pokery, which should really be far beyond my lady-brain and yet somehow isn’t – how curious! Anyway, last week when I really...
Tights

Tights

So I bought Grazia the other day, but didn’t read it because I knew it would either bore me to frumpy tears, or force me to be shrill about the amount women are encouraged to spend on fucking handbags. But anyway, that’s not what I brought you here to talk about. I...
Running

Running

By Flora Cramp Last Boxing day, when I was too full to do a jigsaw or argue with my dad, I sat in the chair near the cat litter tray with a bottle of sherry, and stared at the wall for six or seven hours. Ignoring my mum’s conversation about whether Jeremy Irons had...