Old school, hell yes. Old fashioned, definitely. Avant-garde in my approach to most things, certainly. Prude, nuh uh.

When I was growing up, we always knew that there wasn’t really sage in the Robertson’s spice jar, it was another altogether more fun herb that our parents had very well hidden at the back of that high kitchen cupboard.

My parents were a product of the 60’s and 70’s, for sure. I never saw them stoned but I definitely remember…

Everyone knows it. I’ve been shouting it from the rooftops for months. Being single is just about the best thing since sugar free ice cream.

Imagine my surprise then, sitting with a friend whom I’ve known for, like, ever and has been one of my dearest male friends and someone I can’t imagine not having in my life…. And finding myself strangely, disturbingly, scarily daydreaming about what it could be like to date him.

Oh my God, am I losing…

I’ve recently blogged about an Octopus Wingman. What about my experiences as a Wingwoman, you ask, pleadingly?

I am quite a little bit of a social butterfly. You know, especially near to pay day. I make an effort to mingle and meet new peeps, hoping that someone will share my penchant for good manners and have them join me on my Manner Mission.

One of my Eastern Capers has recently moved to Skaapstad, and, being the welcoming, embracing…