Last time I visited my hairdresser, things got a little ... well ... hairy. While I was looking for a parking spot, a guy collapsed on the pavement and started having a fit. By the time I'd parked the car, a large crowd of people and a policeman had gathered around him. They looked like... Continue Reading →

I haven't read 50 Shades of Grey. I'm beginning to feel like the only woman in the world who hasn't. It's all anyone seems to talk about. Even my mother bought the trilogy. But I have seen Magic Mike. And I liked it. Not because it had a great storyline or Oscar-worthy acting. But because... Continue Reading →

I'm trying to feel all warm, fuzzy and thrilled for Mrs Woog as she flits around New York  - she's been sponsored to fly there by Garnier for BlogHer, a conference for female bloggers. But the truth is I'm a little envious. OK, slight understatement. I'm deeply, bitterly resentful. Yes, that's closer to the truth. Every... Continue Reading →

All is not well at Housegoeshome. I am, knock on wood, the only family member who hasn't succumbed to illness this week. I'm putting it down to giving up Diet Coke and not drinking alcohol for two whole nights. I am a paragon of virtue. (Until 6pm tonight, when I'll slug a few pre-movie Pinot Grigios before... Continue Reading →

Heston Blumenthal's wacky creations captivated the Sprogs recently, when they saw Heston's Feasts at their cousins' house. So Husband racked up an episode of Heston's Mission Impossible for them the other night. Heston's challenge was to makeover cinema snacks. Perfect, we thought. Until he started experimenting with 4D theatre and providing squirts of scent to accompany movies. The film he chose was... Continue Reading →

Last week, The Australian reported on a study that found kids who go into childcare at the age of two or three are no worse off emotionally than those kept at home. It said, among other things: "Charles Sturt University's Linda Harrison told The Australian the analysis was based on a longitudinal study of 5000 Australian children recruited... Continue Reading →

The problem with blubbering on your blog about being down is that everyone goes on suicide watch. Long after you've hauled yourself out of your hole of self pity, people keep giving you concerned looks, patting your arm, asking if you'd like to talk about it. No, I would not like to talk about it. I am repressed and only capable of expressing... Continue Reading →

Any moment now, my family will descend on the house for Christmas in July Part 2. Husband and the Sprogs are huddled around the TV watching the Olympic opening ceremony. I'm - as usual - cooking This time around it's slow-roasted lamb with assorted veggies, with Christmas Cake Strudel for dessert. The strudel is part of the Christmas... Continue Reading →

I know I should be wallowing in self-pity about living in a nice house with my two gorgeous children, talented Husband and age warts - see Who Are You In Your 40s - but there's too much to celebrate today. Not only is it Christmas in July Part 2 (The Grandparents Arrive), but it's the first... Continue Reading →