The reason I don’t like systems or rules now is that I grew up with a lot of extraordinarily weird ones. I was forbidden to speak to people who lived in council flats. “Why can’t I talk to them – they’ve got toilets inside like us?” I’d say to my mother. Got whacked with the hairbrush for that remark.
We had a Scottish-speaking border collie. My mother missed Scotland very much. I don’t feel Scottish at all. There’s no Scottish words for anything modern.
I love Facebook – though it’s a complete waste of time. I want real friends, not cyberfriends. And most Facebook groups they can fuck off.
I find it’s not a glass ceiling for the likes of me, it’s a concrete one.
Always fuck when you first meet someone, because if the sex is shit you don’t need to see them again.
I was 9 when I accepted my parents were just parents and nothing special. My parents read the Sun and the Mirror. I thought they must have picked up the wrong baby. I expected my real parents to collect me – I imagined they lived in Surrey and read the Guardian.
Right now, knowing what I do. I’d have this pile of chips in hand for my next relationship, and as it progresses if they did things that annoyed me the chips would go down – they didn’t change toilet rolls or light bulbs, get the wrong shopping, forget your birthday. Their chips would rarely go up in these circumstances.
I’ve never signed on. Never claimed for anything; never been unemployed for one nanosecond.
Twitter’s for twats. You really can over communicate; we’re communicating piffle sometimes. You don’t need to tell everyone you’ve just had a crap.
I really can’t stand men in their fifties. They are both condescending and patronising.
The class system in this country is the most rigid in the world.
I just like doing things that I haven’t done before.
The dilemma for men is I’m a woman in my early 20s, and consider myself very independent with a healthy, normal, happy life.