Samantha van Dalen

Sad news this week of two City bankers who committed suicide, both in the prime of their lives. We have all visited that dark place where we have contemplated whether life continues to be worth living. Just this week, a friend send me a plaintive message that read something like this: 'life, job, love, all suck'.
"My boyfriend bought me a vegetarian cookbook for Christmas...even though I'm not one," she laughed. Our eyes met and we smiled. Funny, but if a man I was hopeful about gave me a vegetarian cookbook for Christmas, knowing that I'm not one, I think I would run faster than you could say "Jack Rabbit".
A favourite song of mine and for me the best interpretation of this ultra romantic tune is by George Michael. I used to joke about George being a bit accident prone on my radio show and must say that his ordeals, trials and tribulations in life have added a large dash of pathos to his style of singing.
None of us can save another human being. Each of us has a responsibility to save ourselves. No one is to blame when the easiest option becomes the best option. Life is hard. Life is cruel.
I recently discussed the topic of love and the many different types thereof on my weekly radio show. I was quite alarmed to discover that there are more than fifteen recognised forms of love. I see only one.
I'm that cliché- the middle aged divorcée and nothing could make me run further and screaming, than the thought of life-draining relationship. I think men are nice enough but I've 'been around the block' once or twice and understand that nothing is ever what it seems.
On books As I get older, I tend to read very old books. Centuries old. Modern writing has become something of a mystery to
How to love yourself (and grow half a brain) The recent furore regarding Charles Saatchi and Nigella Lawson is a perfect