When did everyone become so mean anyway? We all have our secret sorrows. We all have our hidden hurts. And try to remember, that nobody really knows what goes on behind closed doors.
In his beautiful memoir of his late father Blake Morrison asks the question, 'and when did you last see your father?'... Similarly I ask myself when was it I stopped believing I was British? Because believe me it's been a while since I felt that way.
Selfies at their best are, like the fashion magnate claims, narcissistic and unashamedly self-gratifying. At worst? A sorry way to define a generation and a potentially damaging by-product of a supposedly liberating medium.
This week, word broke that Chris Martin and Gwynneth Paltrow had decided to part ways. It was like an oil slick near a crematorium. We knew instantly only seconds would separate us from what can only be a flaming onslaught of hate and sh** that infested the already festering world of Twitter. Everybody had an opinion. The majority of which were smug and snide. Delighted, almost relieved to hear the the "golden couple" had finally failed at something!!!! Marriage!!! YES!!!! We can all sleep at night! Thank God for that.
We all need to do our bit to look after it. It's not always easy being green but there's loads of things we can all do to do our bit. To show my support for the planet this Saturday I'll be heading down to London's Southbank Centre to take part in WWF's annual event Earth Hour.
So, I suggest we take a moment and chill. Reassured by the fact that every baby is different and develops at his own rate (so they tell us) and just enjoy our little nippers.
"How would you like to pay?" Bash in credit card details and notice that the booking fee for each ticket is £7.50. Postage is £2.50. Starting to experience rising anger. Don't get sidetracked.
whatever their ability everyone raised the bar and challenged themselves. Endured a little something, pushed a little further than they usually would, all for a great cause. Some may also have exorcised the exercise demons (sorry) and may feel inspired to take a new path, taking control of their health and well being.
Sometimes people are just fat and happy - which is the sort of people Sally is most frightened of; those of us that stick two chubby fingers up to a world obsessed with the scrutiny of women's bodies, diets that promote starvation techniques and the idea that thinness is somehow related to successfulness. Obesity isn't curable if you don't want curing.
Just 10-days ago came the sad news that the beautiful L'Wren Scott had passed away. I, like many other people, was shocked and read the 'breaking news' stories as they appeared online, wondering what had happened - it's human nature, I believe, to look for answers.
It's not often that I get excited about a classical music concert. Too often they're staid and aloof. But it's all so different when James Rhodes is playing and this week sees him kicking off a packed schedule with a string of shows at Soho Theatre.
Paul Weller cuts a lithe figure in a black crew neck sweater and dove grey slacks that ride a couple of inches off the ground. His round-toed calfskin Chelsea boots gleam under the lights. A flashgun snaps at his every move as his gimlet eye rakes the clothes rack that lines the far wall of the West End showroom.
Mindfulness isn't for everyone, we all are as different as fingerprints and have to find our own way of breaking bad habits that can seriously damage our health. For me having a means of tuning into my mind, checking the weather conditions and spotting if a storm is coming has saved my life.
Did you know about the wall of grief? The wall of grief is weird. It's a part of recovery no one talks about because it really is so odd. In recovery grief is an absolute f*cker. Basically for every bit of big, significant progress made, grief sits just around the corner, waiting.
It's hypocrisy as to why Gaga involved a vomit artist in her performance if she cares so deeply about the issue of eating disorders as she claims? Surely, she would realise the performance would conflict with those who idolise her who are suffering from anorexia and bulimia?
I know I had enough online nouse to do little more than damage what little street cred I may have had with a few painfully unfunny lines. But what about people who may have shared more than they should have, long before they received that promotion back when they thought boardrooms were reserved for [insert expletive] and decided to tweet their feelings?