You're Going To Die So Do It Anyway- living life louder

28/11/2025

My new book has begun and I am so fired up for this. This one’s for everyone fed up with society’s expectations: babies, body standards, the endless corporate bu****it, and the entitlement and incel culture that tries to tell us how to live. Think bold moves, breaking conventions, and owning your fire. This is being written with my children in mind as they navigate their 20s because it is never to soon to become a badass.

24/11/2025

24/11/2025

NEW BLOG: I Went on a Date…And Ignored It Entirely
My friend met a guy and wanted to go for dinner with him but didn’t want to go alone, so without consulting me she arranged for a double date with an hour’s notice. I didn’t want to go, but as ever the networker, I thought it might be a new business contact at the very least and a free dinner. So with minimal effort (I didn't even brush my hair) I met them at the restaurant.
In Cyprus unfortunately smoking is allowed everywhere and I detest it, so before I had even sat down there was a cloud of cigarette smoke wafting over the table. So I shook hands and moved my chair back to almost the table behind, which was empty. Right then I was ready to leave.
I didn’t go to charm anyone, make small talk, or nod politely at the wine list. I went to support my friend and maybe, survive without pretending to be someone I’m not. But they had the personality of a piece of cardboard. Communication skills should definitely not be listed on their CV. So I pulled out my phone, something I would be normally horrified if anyone else did. There was a message from my friend sat next to me telling me I was rude. Like I give AF. I am not going to make small talk to people I am not interested in. I was existing quietly in the corner of someone else’s romance, not mine.
Society tells us we have to be engaged in every social setting. Smile, laugh, validate. But why? Just because I share the same space doesn’t mean I owe anyone performance points. And don’t get me wrong, when I am in a setting with people I want to be with, I am absolutely hilarious and entertaining. But this was not that night. I was thinking of ways to leave from the moment I arrived, without bailing on my friend.
I don’t want to date unless they are sending a car to pick me up and meet at the airport for a surprise trip. I don’t want to meet anyone unless it’s a business lead and I don’t want to make small talk with mediocre men in baggy polo necks and ill fitting jeans. So I whatsapped my kids, played on my wordsearch and did anything to kill time for an hour until my friend setted into her date.
Watching from my little bubble, I realized the scandal wasn’t my wordsearch. It was everyone else’s assumption that I should have been entertained or entertaining. I was present without being performative. And shockingly, nothing fell apart. The couple flirted awkwardly. I solved words. The world kept spinning.
So yes, call me rude. Call me awkward. Call me whatever you want. I call it self-preservation, with a dash of rebellion. Sometimes, doing nothing spectacularly well is better than pretending to care spectacularly badly.
Next time, maybe I’ll bring a book. Because in a world obsessed with performative politeness, I’ve found a loophole: polite invisibility.
I don’t think I was being rude, I didn’t even order dinner. I just sat there nursing a pina colada until I felt it was ok to leave. Because one thing I have learned about getting older is that I won’t be fake for anyone.

06/11/2025

Because you're going to die so do it anyway

05/11/2025

Your 50s are your “f**k it” era

04/11/2025

Breaking the Cycle:
I adore my children more than words can ever express. They are the light, laughter, and calm in my world and everything I do is rooted in love for them.
But what many don’t see is that love didn’t come from being taught how to love. It came from choosing to.
I haven’t spoken to my mother in over 20 years. It was the most necessary decision I’ve ever made. I broke the cycle of toxic parenting by refusing to pass on pain that wasn’t mine to carry.
Instead of repeating what I learned, I rewrote it. My children grew up with hugs, honesty, and emotional safety not fear, violence,guilt, or manipulation.
Generational healing isn’t always loud or dramatic. Sometimes it’s just quiet strength, a decision made in tears that turns into peace years later.
I was told from the age of 4 that I didn’t deserve to be loved and despite therapy, that little voice in your head doesn’t go away.
I didn’t have a loving mother. But I became one.
Live life on your terms, choose happiness, choose yourself…. Because you’re going to die so do it anyway

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24/10/2025

I Love My Age — I Just Don’t Want to Look It
It's my birthday next week and I'll be 54. When I was a kid, that seemed positively ancient.
I remember thinking anyone over 40 had basically seen the dinosaurs. Fifty-four? That was retirement, wearing smock dresses and flat shoes and bingo halls. And yet… here I am on the cusp of 54. Still clubbing, still partying.And I love it.
There’s something freeing about being this age. I’ve lived enough to know who I am, and I’ve stopped apologizing for it. I’ve seen my share of wins, losses, heartbreaks, and hilarious mistakes that now make for excellent stories over wine. There’s a confidence that only time can teach, a quiet voice that says, “You’ve got this. You’ve been through worse."
But loving my age doesn’t mean I want to look it or feel it. And I don't. I am stronger than I was in my 30s. My energy is on top form. My joints don’t ache. My face? Well, let’s just say it’s aging gracefully. Sure, I have a few wrinkles, but they’re part of the story, and I embrace modern aesthetics to enhance what’s already there. I’m not hiding my age; I’m celebrating it, on my own terms.
Loving my age doesn’t mean I want to look old. I want to look vibrant, alive, confident and polished in all the ways I choose. There’s joy in taking care of yourself, in combining experience with style, strength, and a little bit of playful vanity
I’m not chasing twenty anymore. I don’t want to erase the years; I just want to wear them well. I want to glow, not for my age but because I feel alive and comfortable in my skin. There’s power in that, in refusing to let the world tell you that beauty has an expiration date.
Fifty-four isn’t ancient. It’s seasoned. It’s textured. It’s rich with stories and lessons and laughter lines that prove I’ve been living.
So book the Botox, have the facials, lift the weights, and throw on an inappropriate outfit because age is an asset, not an excuse. And I plan to live it loudly, beautifully, and unapologetically.