I am part of a wonderfully engaging online community that shares baking mishaps and celebrations, reading and viewing recommendations and watch-outs along with a rather over-indulged sense of worth when it comes to grammar and the use of the English language. We love to share typos, puns and general alliterative joy.
Last night I started a conversation (because that’s what I do in online groups) that garnered only 23 likes but more than 220 comments (and growing). It overflowed my cup of inspiration so I’ve spilled it all into a blog post, for wider enjoyment…not to mention my own amusement.
If you are prone to self-harm when you read typos or a whole bunch of corporate wank and weasel words, then this post may not be for you. Proceed with caution. Continue reading
I got an email from a client the other day that was signed “Love, Jeremy” and it made me smile. It’s not that long ago that I would have baulked at that sign off. Inappropriate. Unprofessional. Lazy. Would have been the words I’d have used to describe my instant reaction – most certainly followed by a reluctance to do business with the writer of the email.
My communications career was born in Government. Where writing etiquette was important and certain expectations needed to be met if you wanted to be taken seriously. A casual style meant a casual attitude and a casual attitude meant you were unlikely to be offered a place at the table with the big kids. I followed these rules for a very long time despite itching every time I wore the cloak of the traditional professional.
Anyone that’s read my blog knows that I am now a different type of professional. I’m a self-appointed professional rule breaker. I abhor complexity and get a bit stabby at any form of unnecessary formality. I constantly straddle the line between corporate (where the bills get paid) and creative (where my soul gets fed). Continue reading
The invitation was very clear. It was just for me. I’d know everyone who would be there and I didn’t need to dress up. In fact, I didn’t even need to talk to anyone all night if I didn’t want to. I could simply show up, remove my bra and just tuck myself up in a luxurious king bed. From 2pm.
It was an invitation I sent myself. I’d decided, very last minute, to celebrate my 46th birthday with a gift so heavenly that it wouldn’t have occurred to single-me how precious and rare such a gift would become. I was gifting myself ME. More specifically I was gifting myself 24 hours of complete and utter selfish abandon in a five-star hotel with a view of the city I adore but don’t make the effort to see anymore. Continue reading
I like drinking. You only have to glance at my social media feeds to know that. Red wine features everywhere in my pictures and my words.
Drinking is in my DNA. Sometimes I think it’s actually red wine that flows through my veins and keeps my heart pumping (truthfully, my heart is probably pumping in spite of how much I drink). Continue reading