YOU'LL NEVER WALK ALONE

We all know the word "wigga", well I'm like one of those but for Scousers. Both my best friends Danielle and Tony are from the magical place of purple bins and yellow bus stops and I'm well jealous. Liverpool has undoubtedly THE best nightlife in the UK and I never fail to be amazed by a) the drink prices and b) the sheer amount of fucking cool people. Not only is everyone DEAD nice, or sound as it were, there is an unusual percentage of well-dressed people - from eclectic vintage mongers wearing the best that Raider's have to offer, to WAGS decked out in Cricket's finest - Balmain for a night out? Sure. During my many encounters t'up North I have endured: a visit to A&E after shamefully falling off a bar stool, a freshly opened stream of Champagne straight in the eye and most hideously of all, been comatose on the steps of a strange house - yet I still love it. I know the locals probably think I'm an embarrassing pain in the arse when I say 'pya' or 'meff' but I don't care. I'm a "Fouser" (faux-scouser) and PROUD, laaaaaa.

HOME SWEET

OK, so after an incredibly long period of two weeks I am back nestling in the hearty bosom of my country home. Until recently, my room resembled a dated teenage den of Hello Kitty as opposed to iniquity, however, at New Year we decided enough was enough and sternly discarded of my childhood paraphernalia. Now it's all a bit Farrow & Ball and Cath Kidston, and I love it. Home visits are now like a mini-break in the Cotswolds, I even get folded towels on my bed FFS.