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Six things to remember when you’re moving house

07/05/2017 by Charlotte Leave a Comment

We’ve moved. Not far, just around the corner in fact, but we may as well have emigrated to the moon, such was the level of admin and boxes and general chaos involved. But we’re in now and the new flat is slowly starting to feel like home. The rest just feels like the results of a jumble sale I attended whilst drunk and bought everything in sight, but we’ll get there.

Next time we move (which will be NEVER by the way. We’re just going to have to stay here forever), there are a few things I’d like to remember in order to make the whole process easier on my mind, so here they are. Writing this means I’m not currently doing unpacking, as I should be, and for such an escape I’m very grateful. I hope reading this provides a distraction from whatever much more worthwhile activity you’re supposed to be doing too.

1. All being well, you won’t look back

I felt quite emotional about leaving our old flat. It was the first place we’d owned, the flat we left that September afternoon and headed off to the Cotswolds to get married, the safe space I could never wait to get back to after work or socialising or doing a big shop. To suddenly step outside of those walls felt risky – what if we didn’t feel as happy elsewhere? What if the next owner didn’t appreciate the perfect arch of the ceiling above the lounge like I did? What would next door’s cat do without me? Who would she ignore now?

But the time comes to move on and though it’s laborious and dusty and, at times, downright soul destroying, the process of packing up is actually rather helpful. You’re so happy when you’ve finally got all of your belongings out the door and into the van that you’re more than ready to get going and never look back. Also, if you’ve given the whole thing the appropriate amount of thought, you’re probably moving somewhere you like and that will enable your life to keep moving in the desired direction. And for that reason, it makes sense to just keep looking forward with optimism, and only to look back with gratitude for what a happy time you’ve had until now. (Mitsy Cat, call me!)

2. You really should do a clear-out before you pack up, but don’t beat yourself up when you inevitably don’t

Looking through the madness of belongings we brought with us to our new home I am reminded of the level to which ‘F*CK IT, JUST PUT IT IN A BOX’ became our home move mantra by the end. You imagine that you’ll spend the weeks before you go sorting through every item you own and only bringing with you the most vital and useful of belongings. But this is not reality, or it certainly wasn’t for us. Mind you, I did try. I will remind my husband forever of the fact that when I suggested we get rid of anything we didn’t need before the move, he said: “I want everything I own“, as if to suggest that I was the sole hoarder among us. I can confirm now that we’ve moved and are surrounded by boxes which may as well have been labelled ‘WHY WOULD ANYBODY EVER BUY THIS’ that he no longer stands by this statement. (But I don’t mention it. Much.)

3. The good news is, you’ll still be you when you get there

The building itself is only part of the reason you’re happy where you live. The roof and walls and floor are critical, of course, but it’s you that makes that house a home. The relationship you have with yourself and whoever you live with. The life experiences you prepare for, recover from, and dream of beneath that roof. The friends you cater for, laugh with, and console on the sofa over cake and tea and the sound of a colours wash spinning in the machine in the background. That’s where the real happiness lies, and that can be recreated anywhere, I’m sure of it.

4. The bad news is, you’ll still be you when you get there

I fell into the same old trap once again. You know, the one where you believe that in this new house you’ll be a tidy person, and in this house you’ll own less stuff, and in this place you’ll be a calmer, more together and focused person. Guess what? A property doesn’t just change your personality overnight. It’s nice that we’re now trying to cut down on the level of crap we own, but we’re never going to be minimalists. I’ve got a box upstairs especially for old greetings cards, which also contains a leaflet I made during A-level French explaining how to conjugate verbs. You know. JUST. IN CASE. I’m not good at letting go and that is OK. Je ne regrette rien.

5. That miscellaneous box of wires is going to follow you around for the rest of your life. Just accept it

I don’t know what most of them are even for. Some of them are ethernet cables; I believe we have about 300,000. There are also approximately 250 European plug adapters in there too because HEAVEN FORBID we should actually manage to remember to pack one when we go on holiday and miss out on the opportunity to purchase yet another at the airport. As for the rest, your guess is as good as mine. All I know is that they have followed us from flat to flat for the past nine years untouched, except by our fear that they might one day come in handy. If you came here looking for the very definition of a first world problem then I think you just found it.

6. Nobody knows what’s around the corner

Change is scary, I’m never not afraid of it. Be it the small, such as a new brand of orange squash or the suggestion that we should go out on a Monday night. Or the big, like a change of address, or a new local cat to make friends with (it’s going extremely well so far with this one, BTW). But life wouldn’t be half as interesting without change. We simply couldn’t move on without it.

My dad has said to me each time we’ve bought a new home to remember that there will definitely be something wrong with it that we don’t yet know about. That’s just the way it works. So what matters is that we like the place enough to endure the cost and the admin that comes along when we discover what it is. And it’s strong advice.

You never know what’s going to happen, all you can do is make what feels like the right decision based on the information in front of you, and then move forward without regret. And just as you don’t know what trouble might be around the corner, you never know what fresh joy is waiting for you either. The only way to find out is to risk it.

I am brave and so are you

02/04/2017 by Charlotte 1 Comment

I’ve been thinking a lot about bravery. Not large-scale, obvious bravery, deserving of medals and ceremonies, but everyday acts of courage that can easily go unnoticed.

What requires each of us to be brave varies enormously. Something I have to be brave to get through might not even make it onto the list of things you’d worry about. Similarly something that keeps you awake at night might feel as simple to me as opening the fridge, or buttering a piece of toast.

And I think that’s what makes it difficult. That sometimes we feel we’re wrong for needing courage to endure parts of life that others would find easy. But we’re not.

Sometimes it requires bravery for me to go and meet friends for dinner. You wouldn’t think it – I’ll enjoy getting ready, I’ll be the one to suggest a restaurant, and I’ll crack jokes every ten seconds from the moment we sit down because HEAVEN FORBID there should be a moment of silence. But my heart will be beating faster than it should. I’ll be hoping hard that I won’t f*ck up. I’ll be giving myself silent pep talks throughout, including reminders to breathe. And I’ll be looking forward to getting home and looking back on another night where I proved to myself that I’m OK. It doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy going out, there’s just a lot going on behind the scenes, as there is for all of us.

But then other typically scary activities won’t frighten me at all. I’ll happily do a bit of public speaking and (as long as tripping hazards are kept to a minimum) I’ll probably enjoy it. I’m also rather partial to a roller coaster. I like interviewing total strangers too. But ask me to walk into a pub full of friends and I’m gonna need a second to prepare myself. We’re all different. There is no right or wrong way to feel.

But it can feel like there is, and that influences how we deal with it. It’s much easier to berate ourselves for feeling nervous, worried or upset than it is to just admit it and accept that it’s OK. We assume others would judge us if they knew how we felt so we get in there and do it to ourselves first. How remarkably unhelpful our brains can be.

I am brave and so are you But this is not how we treat our friends. So many of our conversations with each other are about courage. About being brave enough to speak up at work, to ask for what we want from a relationship, or to overcome our imposter syndrome and keep following our dreams.

We use such kind language with each other. Any time a friend says they’re ‘ridiculous’ for feeling a particular way our immediate response is “No, you’re not”. It’s so obvious that it’s automatic. Their feelings are never invalid, so why do we think ours are?

Ever since I started freelancing, bravery has become a much bigger part of my life. And I think it’s done me good. I simply cannot make any progress at all if I’m not brave. No emails would be sent, no fees would be discussed, and no articles would be written as I’d be too afraid to start typing. But every time I overcome a fear I’m encouraged to do it again. Because each time I’m gathering more evidence that it’ll all be OK. That I will cope and I will learn. And that the worst-case scenario is not just bearable, but worth the risk.

When my anxiety was as its peak I used to sit on the train and wonder how many other people were having to work as hard as I was to hold it together. Now I know that the answer was undoubtedly loads. Every person is being brave in some small way, you’d just never know it from looking at them.

We should all be better at acknowledging when we’ve been brave. We should swap the story we tell ourselves around so that what we hear is that we coped brilliantly, not that we were stupid for ever thinking otherwise.

Because it’s OK to be who we are and that doing so takes courage. Accepting that might be the bravest part of all.

You’re not the girl you think you are

05/02/2017 by Charlotte 8 Comments

You’re not the girl who eats too many crisps. You’re the girl who likes to see potatoes put to good use.

You’re not the girl who couldn’t get a boyfriend until she was 20. You’re the girl who was biding her time.

You’re not the girl who should be ashamed of every rejection in her inbox. You’re the girl who was brave enough to try.

You’re not the girl whose use of social media is tedious and lame. You’re the girl whose use of social media is just as tedious and lame as everybody else’s.

You’re not the girl who’s too old to be afraid of the dark. You’re the girl who’s wise to prefer a world she can see.

You’re not the girl who once tripped over her clothes, fell face-first into a wall and never got over it. You’re the girl who learnt the hard way that long skirts are more dangerous than they appear.

You’re not the girl with the freaky double-jointed elbows. You’re the girl with a built-in party trick.

You’re not the girl who needs the toilet every 30 minutes. You’re the girl who can sometimes wait for 35.

You’re not the girl who cries too much in good times and bad. You’re the girl whose eyes overflow when she cares.

You’re not the girl who got sick on a night out and ruined everybody’s fun. You’re just the girl who got sick one time. It happens.

You’re not the girl who has eight marshmallows with her hot chocolate. You’re the girl who has nine because YOLO.

You’re not the girl who never stops making stupid jokes. You’re the girl whose comedy has niche appeal.

You’re not the girl who shouldn’t admit to listening to Westlife on a Sunday night. You’re the girl who knows a good key change when she hears one.

You’re not the girl who gives too much advice. You’re the girl who’s trying to help.

You’re not the girl who wears too much mascara. You’re the girl whose mum has said “Charlotte, are you unwell or have you just not put any make-up on yet?” enough times to know what she needs.

You’re not the girl who’s forever got her eye on the door. You’re the girl who just needs to know she can always go home if she wants to.

You’re not the girl who wasted Saturday night watching TV and eating Pringles. You’re the girl who’s finally learnt to have a rest when she needs it.

You’re not the girl who shares too many anecdotes about her baby nephew. You’re the girl who’s allowed to be proud.

You’re not the girl who owns too many grey t-shirts and notebooks. You’re the girl who knows that’s simply not possible.

You’re not the girl who lets her past dictate her future. You’re the girl who gets to start a new story every day.

You’re not the girl you think you are. You’re a woman who’s doing just fine.

La La Land: Seven lessons you learn when following your dreams

18/01/2017 by Charlotte Leave a Comment

20170114_150307 I don’t always love musicals. I tend to want everyone in them to calm down. But not this time. I loved everything about La La Land: the singing, the dancing, the romance, and ohmyword the soundtrack. (For those in pursuit of joy: it’s on Spotify).

I also loved that this is a film about following your dreams, the ridiculousness involved with putting yourself out there, and the compromises you have to make to get what you want (granted with more dancing than I’d considered incorporating before, but maybe it’d help?).

It’s funny, one moment you’re laughing in the face of inspirational quotes, clicking away from articles offering career advice, and declaring war on anybody who talks about being ‘meant’ to do a particular job, and then all of a sudden you’re every single one of those guys rolled into one. I blame age – it makes the need to enjoy your life feel so much more pressing.

Whatever your aim – mine is writing for a living – you learn a lot whilst trying to make it happen. So for anyone considering chasing a dream, here are some of the lessons I’ve learnt so far, and I’m sure there will be plenty more to come…

1.You have to learn to SAY it.

What do you say when somebody asks what you do? Or when they ask how the writing/comedy/acting/photography is going? Perhaps you’re more naturally confident than I am, in which case GOOD KEEP THAT UP, but if not, you have to find the courage to answer this question properly.

On the inside I’m absolutely obsessed with writing, with being published, with coming up with new ideas, and with getting better at it. But because there are so many people doing it, and so many versions of what ‘good’ looks like, I’m afraid of looking like a fraud or somebody pursuing a pipe dream. BUT what I’ve learnt is this: a) I’m not either of those things and b) Even if you feel that way, you have to learn to act like you don’t. People won’t give you work or recommend you if you’re too afraid to even say what you want, and you won’t feel confident enough to try if you don’t hear it from your own mouth. And anyway, the more you speak to people, the more ideas you’ll get, so you need to do it. People are asking how it’s going because they’re interested, so take a deep breath and have the chat.

2. A ‘Yes’ strategy is a good place to start

You never know where opportunities are going to lead you, so when you’re starting out and you don’t have any or much work, saying yes to what comes your way isn’t a bad strategy. Of course, there are caveats here – make sure it’s something you want to do, that you’re happy with the money, and that you have the space and time to do it. I just mean that it doesn’t have to be precisely what you want to do in the long term from the start, as the experience will still come in handy. At worst, it’ll teach you what you don’t want which is also a useful lesson.

3. Someone in the crowd could be the one you need to know

Yep, I’ve had that song in my head for days and now you will too. Meeting people, speaking to strangers on the phone, and generally going out into the world and saying “You don’t know me but here’s my heart and soul, want to buy it?” is a necessary part of trying to build a business or a career for yourself. Do not be afraid of this. It is 100% worth it and often fun. And anyway, there is simply no way around it; the odds of somebody coming round to your house out of nowhere and offering to pay you to write/act/tell jokes/sing songs for them is very low, and to be honest I’d be very wary of anybody who does.

4. Compromise is very much part of the deal

Films don’t document people working on Sundays when everyone else is out eating roast dinners or walking dogs; nor do they show people hunched over their laptops, typing away into the night because they have a deadline that they couldn’t hit during the day because they have another job. But this can be the reality of dream chasing. It certainly is for the writers among us. I would describe myself as ‘In a serious relationship’ with my desk, my laptop, and about 45 different Moleskine notebooks. It’s OK, they’re all fine with it.

There’s glamour and joy to be had, for sure – a byline, a pay cheque, your face on TV – but most of the time it’s just me, a blanket, my computer and all the empty packets from snacks I’ve inhaled. I’m happy with that, but I appreciate it wouldn’t be for everyone.

5. Patient friends and family are everything

There’s a bit in La La Land where Sebastian drives to Mia’s house and insists on taking her to an audition because he believes in her. These are the kinds of people we need in our lives. People who won’t get cross when we have to opt out of going to a party because we have a deadline, but who will instead make us a drink before they go – because not only do they understand our life goals, but they also take hydration seriously.

6. You have to learn when to rest

Why didn’t you go on holiday last year, Charlotte?

Oh because I was too busy chasing my dreams.

And what are your dreams exactly?

To write for a living so that I can travel and enjoy my free time on my terms.

Right…

Breaks matter. They matter to your health because life is tiring, they matter to your relationships because to have them you need to actually spend time with people, and they matter to your work because you can only create great things if you look after yourself. So you need to get good at figuring out when to work and when to rest. As I discovered early on, if you just wait until you fall over to realise you need to stop, you’re leaving it too late.

7. Comparing yourself to others is NOT helpful

I’ve written about this lots of times before (and most recently in this post), but it needs reiterating to remind myself and anybody else who spends too much time online. It is healthy to look at somebody who has done something you would also like to do and think “How can I learn from them?”, it is not healthy to think “I am a failure because this has happened to them and not to me.” Do you see the distinction? Good, now paint it on your bedroom wall or your phone screen. None of us has enough time to waste worrying about why we’re not somebody else. We’ve got much more important sh*t to do than that.

Growing up and learning to find your voice

09/10/2016 by Charlotte 4 Comments

Step right up We were watching that episode of The Simpsons where Bart fights back against Nelson’s crew when they pick on Lisa and he gets beaten up for it. Marge wants Bart to report it to Principal Skinner but Homer says he can’t, it’s against the code of the school yard, which states:

Don’t tattle
Always make fun of those different from you
Never say anything unless you’re sure everyone feels the same way you do

So instead, Bart puts together an army and teaches Nelson a lesson. It’s every bullied child’s dream outcome and makes for a great episode. We had it on video at home so I know it pretty much word for word.

That code really does exist, or it certainly did at my school. To tattle or ‘dob in’ as us cool kids used to call it was very much frowned upon. Rule 2 was definitely kept to – sometimes at my expense, sometimes at other people’s, and I wouldn’t go back to that way of life for all the money in the world.

And rule 3 – I followed that so closely that I’m still learning to break it. I’m 31 years old and I know I don’t always value my voice. And I don’t think I’m alone in that – I think lots of us struggle to remember we have as much right to speak up as anyone else.

When we step into the real world, independence forces us to stand on our own. And with that comes a daily set of decisions – about whether to stand up for ourselves, for other people, and for what we think is right. Sometimes we make the correct call, sometimes we pick the wrong argument, and sometimes we walk away, never knowing what we could or should have done.

How to interact with people is a life-long course that we never finish taking. And the hardest part, in my view, is working out how to stand your ground without smashing it to pieces. How to say your piece without just screaming the house down or calling people names. How to come away having made a sound argument and, ideally, having persuaded somebody to think a little differently.

If having arguments with people in your head isn’t one of your favourite pastimes then I guess we’re just very different people but I do it ALL the time. I run through exactly what I’d say if only I had the guts and the promise of no repercussions. I’m excellent at it when I have total control, but sadly the world will never know.

In reality, speaking up can sometimes feel like a maverick thing to do, even when it’s totally justified. Whether it’s to say no, I’d rather we didn’t split the bill, I only had a tap water and a side, or, actually, that was my idea, not yours and you know it, or I’m not going to let you speak to me that way, fighting back can feel so bold. I am doing it now, more and more, but I’m never not shaking afterwards.

There are lots of things that can make speaking up feel like the hardest thing in the world. Louder voices, hierarchy, education, subject matter. Sometimes you worry that you’re going to ruin a nice time by contradicting a group decision or a consensus. But it’s OK – as always, it’s all about how you say it. Think like a human being and you’ll be fine.

I’m talking about this now because it feels more important than ever that we’re not afraid to speak up for what’s right. There’s a lot of nastiness, a lot of hate, and a lot of frightening rhetoric around. In this country, in the US, all over. And if we don’t speak out against it and challenge those trying to marginalise and disempower people, it’s going to become the norm. Then goodness knows what comes next.

Of course, what I’m talking about is more complex and important than minor social disagreements, but empowering yourself to take those on puts you in a better position to tackle the big stuff when it comes – and anyway, this is also where you’re likely to hear a lot of it. Whether it’s misogyny over the dinner table or racism on social media or bullying amongst so-called friends – it’s our duty to call it out and push for kindness, equality and understanding instead.

I have a voice and so do you and we don’t just deserve to use them, we have to. If The Simpsons has taught us anything, it’s that bullies know exactly what they are, they just think they can get away with it.

31 things that continue to surprise me about being alive

10/07/2016 by Charlotte Leave a Comment

IMG_20160707_160600 It’s birthday time for me 🎂 and this year I’m turning 31. It’s not Big News like turning 30 was – there’s no ’31 things to do before you turn 31′ lists to read. (I assume because people think the only thing you really need to do by this point is recover from turning 30).

Nope, it’s just a middle of the road, hardly worth mentioning sort of age, and I’m fine with that. It’s nice to go under the radar for a little while.

But just because 31 isn’t considered to be a particularly remarkable milestone, it doesn’t mean I have nothing to say. Regular readers will know that it’s become something of a tradition for me to write a list as long as my age to mark my birthday – a decision I imagine I will regret enormously by the time I turn 75.

When I turned 29 and 30 I jotted down a series of things I had learnt. So this year – in the interests of keeping things fresh – I’ve opted for a list of things that continue to surprise me about living in the world. Because the older you get, the longer that list becomes.

1. That there are people who do not like Jaffa Cakes.

2. That after almost 11 years together, the text message I’ve sent my husband which has provoked the most positive response to date said: I’ve managed to fix our WiFi.

3. That the lyric ‘My mama don’t like you and she likes everyone’ was all it would take for me to like Justin Bieber.

4. That, rather than a hilarious joke, ‘This train is delayed due to a lack of driver to drive it’ is a commonly used excuse for transport disruption.

5. That the amount of money you spend on a pair of shoes has absolutely nothing to do with how much they are likely to hurt your feet.

6. That the glare I gave the man on the train who said “I’m on my way to London Houston” didn’t turn him to stone.

7. That I once offered a friend one of my pick n mix sweets and they took the single, giant fondant filled liquorice lace I was clearly going to save till last. WHO DOES THAT

8. That it’s possible to select an outfit to wear at at 8am, and then realise you hate it more than anything you’ve ever seen in your life by 10.

9. That after two years as a glasses-wearer, I still fail to anticipate what will happen when I open the oven or dishwasher door whilst wearing them.

10. That eventually my life would be divided into two halves: Before I started enjoying gin, and after.

11. That there is nothing quite like the incredible sense of achievement one feels following the successful usage of drain unblocker.

12. That intense feeling of loss a woman feels when she looks in her make-up bag and discovers that her blusher has shattered into a million pink, dusty pieces.

13. That there is nothing more frightening than the prospect of hearing a recording of your own voice.

14. That there is so much happening in the world, and yet I still feel the need to correct people when they say ‘I’ when they should be saying ‘me’.

15. That I still get invited to parties.

16. That I ever thought simply wearing my sunglasses over the top of my glasses would fill the gap that only prescription sunglasses can. (And how unbelievably heavy that felt on my face).

17. That I get worryingly close at least once a week to sending an email that features the word ‘afterboob’ instead of ‘afternoon’.

18. That there would come a time when somebody saying they spent an afternoon reading a book – rather than looking at any kind of screen – would seem like the greatest demonstration of willpower the world has ever seen.

19. That my husband expects to receive the kind of praise one might reserve for a person who has just run the marathon for simply putting a wash on.

20. That nothing on this earth – not purchasing an appropriately ripe avocado, or figuring out what level of postage to put on a package, or attempting to cook one of Jamie’s 30 Minute Meals in less than an hour – is more difficult than finding a Friday night on which all members of a female friendship group are free to have dinner together.

21. That the simple act of removing the Facebook app from my phone has done more for my mental health than any holiday ever could.

22. That one minute you swear you will never let a single crumb come near your precious new phone or laptop, and the next you’re tapping at the keys with peanut butter-covered fingers like there’s no tomorrow.

23. That expression friends make when they discover that you’re left-handed. Like they don’t really know you at all.

24. That however hard you think it is to make a human being love you, it’s a walk in the park compared to trying to befriend a cat.

25. That just because a hangover isn’t there when you wake up, it doesn’t mean it’s not coming for you in a few hours’ time.

26. That admitting that you suffer from anxiety is like mentioning that you own Adele’s album ’25’ – dude, everybody’s got that.

27. That I remain incapable of having a conversation with someone who is crying without also crying myself.

28. That some gluten free brands have the audacity to call the crumbly slices of disappointment they produce ‘bread’.

29. That I now live in a world where recognising people because you’ve seen photographs of them on the Internet is considered evidence that you have strong social awareness, and not that maybe a restraining order should be issued.

30. That for so many of us it’s not until we reach our fourth decade on earth that we start to realise what it is that we want to do with our lives.

31. And that if the speed of the last 31 years has taught me anything, it’s that we don’t have time to spend a single second doing anything else.

23 unspoken promises behind every great female friendship

05/06/2016 by Charlotte Leave a Comment

1.That neither of us will ever say “I really shouldn’t” when the dessert menu comes and let that stop us ordering something.

2. That you’ll never mention it when I show up in a piece of clothing that clearly should have been ironed. I know it, you know it, but I just couldn’t be arsed, OK?

3. That wherever we are and whatever we’re doing, cake will always be an appropriate snack.

4. That if one of us fails to get the job or the boyfriend or the house that we wanted, the other will provide the required dose of IT’S THEIR LOSS ANYWAY, BABE, YOU CAN DO SO MUCH BETTER to restore our faith in humanity.

5. That whatever it is, you can tell me.

6. That you’ll smile and nod when I start talking about the level to which it is currently KICKING OFF in Coronation Street [or enter your own televisual favourite here] – despite not watching, caring, or wishing to hear a single detail more about it.

7. That if there is something on my face that shouldn’t be there, you will tell me STRAIGHT AWAY.

8. That I will always let you finish having a well-earned moan before I start to explain why things really aren’t that bad.

9. That if I’m being a dick, you’ll let me know. And that I’ll have the courage to do the same.

10. That when you ask me how ‘following my dreams’ is going, you’re prepared for a long and emotional response.

11. That when I cry at your wedding/birthday party/leaving do, you’ll be kind enough to lie and say that nobody noticed.

12. That we’ll run all photographic evidence of a night out that involved dancing passed each other before uploading it to social media.

13. That we can discuss the highs and lows of having bodies, bowels and brains without embarrassment. There’s no room for shame between friends.

14. That I may not have the required skirt, hair, or ability to kick my legs more than two inches above the ground, but I will be your cheerleader for life.

15. That ‘because I was planning to spend today doing absolutely nothing’ is a perfectly reasonable response to the suggestion of a get together. Everybody needs their space.

16. That I won’t let you walk around with food all over your top. I can’t promise I’ll always have a replacement on me, but I will dab the hell out of that stain like any good friend should.

17. That we won’t feel the need to beat each other around the head with our mistakes – but just to slowly place them under the other person’s eyes if it looks like they might accidentally start walking down that road again.

18. That a ‘What are you wearing tonight?’ text message sent ahead of an evening out will always receive a thorough response to ease the nerves of the woman who sent it (who is no doubt currently on her knees in front of her wardrobe and claiming she has so few clothes that she may as well just cut three holes in a bin bag and wear that etc.).

19. That we’ll both just pretend not to notice what happens to our hair in hot weather.

20. That you understand that when I buy a bag of Percy Pigs, it’s because I want to eat every single one of them. Best get your own packet, yeah?

21. That if you choose to spend your life with someone, I will not let you settle for anything less than the superhero you deserve.

22. That we’ll put the necessary effort in to making sure we’re still friends when we’re old and grey.

23. And that you’ll be kind enough not to mention that I am already both of those things.

Solitude is good for you, loneliness is not

29/05/2016 by Charlotte Leave a Comment

No matter what I’m doing, where I am, or who I’m with, I’m always conscious of the next time that I’ll get to be on my own. It doesn’t matter how much fun I’m having, the knowledge is always there, like a security blanket I never thought I’d need.

For me, solitude is as important as breakfast. I need a strong dose of it everyday to help me stay upright. Partly because I have social anxiety, so get-togethers can be a bit exhausting, but also because I’m 30 years old and this is what it’s like to be a grown up – we love other people’s company but we enjoy our own just as much.

Sometimes I wonder if I look forward to a social interaction being over as much as I do the event itself. I feel a great sense of achievement when I’ve been out and had a great time – when I’ve been to a party and stopped noticing whether I’m enjoying it or not because I just am. I love coming home knowing I’ve done some seriously good socialising and then feeling free to enjoy a spot of solitude because I’ve earnt it.

Time alone hasn’t always felt so precious, though. I’ve written before about how we all have to learn to love our own company. When I was at university, my friend Emma and I would hang out – sometimes in lectures, often at her house, mostly in Primark – and then she’d disappear off for an afternoon nap to prepare for whatever evening activity we had planned. She needed a rest and some shut-eye before further fun could commence.

But I didn’t need this break. We still laugh now about how I’d say “If you need me, I’ll be at home, lying down with my eyes shut,” because I wanted to join in but I just couldn’t nap. (I still can’t, actually, unless I’ve had an alcoholic drink, in which case NIGHT NIGHT.) I didn’t know what to do with the time. I was bored on my own, I’d have to go and buy a magazine to entertain myself. I’d will the time away until somebody was free to come and play with me.

And yet now I crave that time. Modern life demands a lot from us. We work, we go out, and we’re all constantly in touch with each other via phones and emails and apps I sometimes wish had never been invented. If a colleague says they have no plans for the weekend, you can hear the office groan with envy at their freedom, everybody else’s diaries gasping for a gap to pop a wash on, do the weeding, or just lie down.

It’s hard to keep going non-stop for days on end. We need time when we don’t have to think about making the right facial expression or saying the right thing. A bit of space to think it all over, or to think about nothing; to be alive but hardly moving. I like to have a bath and do a face mask. I like to watch Friends episodes I’ve seen so many times that it feels like some of the storylines actually happened to me. And I like to go to bed without having to set an alarm because – for once – nobody is expecting me to be anywhere the next day.

I say all of this mindful that I can enjoy occasional solitude because it’s a treat, not a constant. I’m not lonely. Leon will be home again in a few hours, all being well. I have dates in the diary to see my friends and family soon which I’m looking forward to. Without these things it would be a different story. It is for so many people. The joy of solitude is not to be taken for granted because it’s only a pleasure when it’s a break from the norm.

The realisation hit me hard after we got married that even forever has an end point, that we’d signed up to be each other’s world and that we were relying on each other for company for the rest of our lives. I’ve had to force myself not to worry about it all the time, but I try to hold this knowledge close when I’m frustrated to find the fridge door has been left ajar, or that a world of grated cheese has mysteriously appeared on the kitchen worktop after somebody has come home from the pub. I try to think – what does it even matter? A love of cheese was all I ever wanted in a man. We can buy more. I’m just glad you’re home.

Like everything in life, it’s all about balance. I’ve spent today alone. I made a bacon sandwich and set the smoke alarm off. I listened to Hugh Bonneville’s Desert Island Discs and cried twice, as is standard for an episode of D.I.D. I saw for myself what it means when a cat starts digging a small hole in your back garden (no, it is not treasure they’re planning to bury). And I sat outside and wrote this.

But tomorrow I’ll be in company again and I wouldn’t have it any other way. What’s important is to know yourself well enough to build in what you need, and to try not to budge if anyone suggests that you do otherwise. You can feel it in your bones when you need a rest. Look in the mirror and your eyes will beg you not to leave the house, to stop just for a little while.

I am grateful for a life that is busy enough for a spot of alone time to feel like a treat. Like all luxuries, a life filled with solitude just wouldn’t be right, but a regular dose will do wonders for your health.

On getting older and making CHOICES

15/05/2016 by Charlotte Leave a Comment

When I sit down to write this blog, I rarely know what I’m going to talk about until I start typing.

I tend to perch myself on the edge of the sofa, thus adding an element of drama to proceedings, turn over all the things I’ve been thinking and talking about in my mind, and then start writing about one of them. (I realise you didn’t necessarily ask about my writing process, but I’ve been enjoying the My Writing Day series in the Guardian so much that I just couldn’t help myself).

And today, that process made me realise that the subject of most relevance to me right now is the variety of CHOICES we make as we get older. So here’s some thoughts on that:

When Wednesday rolls around and I have special, dedicated time for doing my freelance writing thing, the whole day is about choice. Who will I pitch to? Which idea is worth pursuing? Will I let myself be distracted by the pile of hand-washing that suddenly looks so appealing now that I’m supposed to be doing work? Or will I chase the dollar and get to 6pm before realising I haven’t breathed an ounce of fresh air (or as fresh as London can offer) since yesterday? So many choices and so little time. I spend hours wondering if I’m making the right decisions, as I’m sure we all do.

On a related note, I’ve come to realise how helpful it is when editors choose to spend a few seconds sending a response to a pitch to let you know that it’s not quite right. Nobody likes to be rejected but it’s still so much more helpful than silence. I can tick them off on my list, move on, and try to do better next time. I know that people are busy – and that lots of editors receive so many emails each day that responding is just not feasible – but when you spend your day seemingly sending emails into the abyss, it’s good to feel acknowledged, and hopefully one step closer to getting it right.

Our time is precious and choosing who we spend it with is a serious decision. Sometimes we choose to fight for more time with a person, and sometimes we decide to step away because, for whatever reason, the relationship just isn’t giving us what we need. My new rule is: if it feels like someone is stealing your time rather than giving you the gift of theirs, it’s time to make a change.

This week I chose to take Facebook off my phone. It was making me feel anxious and stressed and constantly in demand and I didn’t like it. Even though the little red notifications were rarely aimed at me personally, I felt that if I didn’t click right now to see what was going on, I’d be missing out or being disorganised in some way. I haven’t ‘left’ Facebook – chill out – I’ve just left it on my laptop for looking at when I want to, rather than carrying it around in my hand all the time. And I feel a lot better for it.

I like writing on here about my life, the lessons I’ve learnt, the things I find interesting, and I like sharing tips and advice that I can only hope someone will find useful. Whether you write for a living or for fun, you have to make a choice about what you will and won’t share. Whenever I come to this blog, I think through the unwritten policies that decide what I write about. For example, I want you to feel like you know me but not so well that I may as well have hung my laundry around your lounge. I want you to know that I’m human without making myself too vulnerable. I want to talk about my marriage without sharing so much that I somehow bring it to an end. It’s nice to have a place where I make the rules – and where I can choose to break them any time I like.

For the last week or so I’ve been getting up just a little bit earlier than usual to start writing some fiction. I don’t really know how to do that (but does anyone before they try?) so I’ve just been sitting down with a pen and my idea and seeing where it takes me. I do about 20 minutes a day whilst still wearing my pyjamas and with my husband sound asleep upstairs and each session gets me about two or three pages of words. Not words I’d like anyone to read right now, mind – my goodness no – but it’s a start. I realised that if I wanted to try, I needed to choose to find more hours in the day. It turns out they are there if you’re willing to respond to a slightly earlier alarm.

It’s very much acknowledged now that we’re a bit older that we have to build time into our lives to do nothing. To choose to have days when we class ourselves as being busy, but what we mean is that we’ll be busy doing nothing. Looking after ourselves. Managing our mental health. Eating our way through our second bag of Wispa Bites. Whatever. This time is ours. Please don’t come round.

We’re about to go on holiday and I’m choosing – as much as possible – to have an internet free time. I want to look at Florence, not my phone. I want to scroll through lists of gelato flavours, not pictures of other people’s lattes. And I want to talk to my husband face-to-face, rather than typing away about idontevenknowwhat on a device that I’m becoming more and more sure is trying to kill me. I choose to have some time off, and I can’t bloody wait.

A love letter to all the sweaty girls: You are not alone

24/01/2016 by Charlotte 1 Comment

Tray chic There are so many things that women are conditioned to think they’re not supposed to do. Sweating is one of them. Going to the toilet is another.

And it’s so strange because both definitely happen every single day.

As a woman who has always suffered from the charmingly named condition EXCESSIVE SWEATING I can confirm that this belief is particularly unhelpful.

There are people who say that men sweat and women perspire. Well, you can call it what you like, but it’s the same thing. It’s as basic as coughing or sneezing or yawning so loudly that you sound like Chewbacca. We all do it.

Yesterday, whilst out dancing at a friend’s birthday party, I was reminded of my true sweating credentials. I moved seamlessly from looking like a person who’d put a good couple of hours into straightening her hair, applying liquid eyeliner, and colouring in her lips with a pencil, to a shiny-faced mad woman who appeared to have just done 20 lengths in the swimming pool, and no amount of hand fanning, forehead dabbing or sticking my face out of a window could stop it. I mean, everybody was hot but this was ridiculous. If only I’d been flexible enough to slot myself into the Dyson hand dryer in the bathroom, I would have done it.

I first discovered that I had this issue when I was a teenager. As if growing up wasn’t already hard enough – boy troubles, friend fall-outs, and a permanent fear that I was going to be called a weirdo was already keeping me busy enough – but then I had this little treat thrown into the mix. Thanks very much, genetics.

It didn’t even have to be hot. I just had to be awake. Of course, heat made it worse, but for the real sweaters among us, Winter is no holiday. If anything it’s worse because nobody expects to see somebody mopping their brow when it’s minus one outside.

I became super strategic in my clothes buying. I knew what types of colours and materials were most likely to show patches, and which could shield a day’s worth of salt loss. I didn’t have much money at the time – because who does at that age – so I kept a small number of tops on rotation that shielded me from being outed as the sweatiest girl in town.

And then one day I heard my dad talking about a special type of deodorant that can help people who sweat too much. I’d never told anybody about my problem before – I just assumed I’d have to live with it forever and hope that eventually I’d grow out of it – so I was ecstatic to hear that maybe there was a way out.

I booked an appointment with my doctor and had to stop myself from crying when I asked him to please prescribe it for me. I was 16 and awkward and desperate to feel normal. It was going to take a lot more than a sweat gland annihilating roll-on to do that but it was a bloody good start.

And ever since then, things have been better because I’ve had some control. Like so many situations, knowing that there’s something you can do about it is everything. Of course, it doesn’t mean I’m cured, it’s just much more manageable. Now it only really kicks in when it’s actually hot, which helps.

Thankfully it doesn’t really affect my self-esteem too much these days. And I have a critical moment that happened in February 2006 to thank.

Leon and I had only been together a few months and we went to see The Arctic Monkeys play in Leeds. This was prime Monkeys time – we were at university in Sheffield and the whole city had gone mad for them.

We went to the front and jumped around and it remains to this day some of the most fun I’ve ever had. When they went off stage I realised my entire head, back, and chest was soaked, my hair was like wet string, and my eye make-up was a distant memory. I looked at Leon and said:

“Sorry, I must look disgusting.”

And he shook his head and said:

“No you don’t – you just look like you’ve had a really good time.”

And ever since, I’ve held onto that answer.

I know that if I go out and let my hair down, I’ll end up looking like I’ve been left out in the rain. I know that dancing for five minutes does to me what 45 minutes on a treadmill does to other people. When I look in the mirror I do feel pretty alarmed – I mean, that level of perspiration does nothing for a heavy fringe; if I went out partying more frequently I might need to reconsider my hair style – but at least it shows I’ve had a good time.

I’m not writing any of this down to gross you out, though I guess there’s a chance it might have that effect. I’m writing it down because this is the internet and those of us who have learnt to deal with the little surprises that life throws our way have a duty to talk about them so that others know that they’re not alone.

I think things have moved on quite a long way since I was young. The This Girl Can campaign has done us the world of good. Hey, guess what, women exercise and when they do it, they look like everybody does when they exert themselves – hot and a bit red in the face – and nobody cares.

We could spend our lives being worried that we might accidentally be revealed as having been human beings all along. That we’re not all that different after all. That our bodies need to do things to keep us alive.

But that feels like a terrible waste of time. For every moment that we’re doing that, we could be dancing to Beyoncé or Taylor Swift. Or The Arctic Monkeys.

I can’t imagine they’d let a bit of sweat get in their way.