June has been, in two words, sweaty, and busy; particularly the latter part of it. Today the weather has broken a bit and I feel all motivated after – and I’m not being dramatic here – feeling like it was all entirely impossible due to the heat for at least a week solid. I’ve phoned two tradesmen to fix various things and sorted a dogsitter for a holiday I am absolutely going to book at some point. I’ve even mopped the kitchen, not that you’d notice.
Despite the heat June has, hands down, been my favourite month of this year to date. Want to know why? Read on…
(If you want to read my other monthly updates stretching all the way back to January of 2024, you can find them all here).
It was Izzy’s birthday
Obviously a red-letter day in everyone’s calendars: Izzy, our golden Labrador whirlwind, turned three this month.
She celebrated in style with a full-on dog food birthday cake, a fancy bone, and some squeaky toys that cost the equivalent of a small car payment and lasted a cool 17 seconds before being de-stuffed with the efficiency of a tiny, furry serial killer.
Note to self: encouraging her to eat birthday cake may have been a tactical error, as yesterday she also helped herself to my son’s birthday cake… and let’s just say, the atmosphere in the house ever since has been medically uninhabitable. Dickhead.
She’s lucky she’s cute. And three now. Practically an adult. She should know better.
I briefly considered a festival and remembered how old I am
It’s been far too long since I saw decent live music outside of the odd local cover band, so at the start of the month we booked tickets to see The Haunt. It was a lovely little venue in Soho, the kind where you can actually see the whites of the band’s eyes – and unfortunately also the screen brightness of the man in front filming the entire gig on a boomer-style phone case that flips open like a paperback.
Why? Who is watching this back? Who has ever watched back gig footage filmed vertically on a Samsung Galaxy from 2017?
Anyway. Great band, slightly less great audience behaviour. 4 stars, would go again (without the man).
Then mid-June came along with Download Festival, and I’ll admit, I was tempted. My boyfriend was already going, and a friend had a cheap ticket going spare. It’s definitely the most ‘me’ festival, musically speaking. I could quite literally walk to Reading Festival, and yet I would rather walk into the sea than spend a weekend pretending I know who Chappell Roan or Travis Scott are. (I’m sure they’re wonderful. I’m just too old. And too tired.)
I almost caved. I looked at dogsitters. I browsed camping stoves. And then, one night, I slept terribly in my own bed for no reason (shout out to perimenopause: stealing joy and oestrogen since 2023) and woke up so wrecked I thought: No. Absolutely not.
Because while I love the idea of live music, I do not love:
- Shitting in a portaloo so grim it would require therapy to get over the trauma,
- Trekking two miles through mud to get to said toilet,
- Sleeping for approximately three hours a night on a half-deflated and possibly damp airbed with teenagers screaming the latest hilarious saying (I doubt it’s people yelling ‘Dave’ over and over anymore) and a bladder that now wakes me up every four hours, minimum.
I am 41. I’ve had two children. My camping-without-electricity era has closed. My relationship – and pelvic floor – wouldn’t survive it.
So that was a no. However, in a burst of spontaneity, we did go to see Guns N’ Roses at Wembley. We’d won the tickets, and thought, why the hell not?
A few observations:
- Doors were at 3pm. We rocked up at a reasonable hour like normal humans with jobs and missed all the support and the first half of the set. (Apparently, Axl Rose has a bedtime now.)
- His voice… bless him. I don’t know if it was the stadium acoustics or just the passing of time, but let’s just say it wasn’t peak Axl.
- Sparkly blouses are great, but there may be an age cap on rock stardom. When your vibes are giving more ‘nan’ than ‘frontman’ I’d say it’s time to consider jacking it in. And I say that as someone who owns leopard print dresses and special insoles for my shoes.
Am I glad I went? Yes.
Would I pay £200 to see them? Absolutely not. £40 for the parking and just north of eight quid a pint was more than enough.
I got a slushie maker and now I’m 40% French Martini
What started as ‘probably a fun treat for the kids’ has rapidly spiralled into adult cocktail slushie addiction. The French Martini slushie has changed my life. The frozen spicy margarita healed something deep within me. The wine slushie? A terrible mistake we don’t talk about.
It’s the gadget I never knew I needed; and now I basically run a one-woman summer drinks stand in my kitchen. You can find out more about it here:
Thorpe Park: Still hot, still queues, still fun (somehow)
Six years to the day since my last visit to Thorpe Park, quite by accident, I subconsciously decided to commemorate the occasion by doing it all again – this time with my boyfriend, as a sort of birthday treat.
It was HOT, the queues were long, and there were swarms of schoolchildren absolutely everywhere. So, basically exactly like it was six years ago, had I bothered to remember and then used said knowledge to inform a decision. Never mind.
Still, we had a genuinely great day. We got on most of the rides that we had hoped to, screamed at appropriate volumes, and did not wait in line for hours a ride that unexpectedly closed when we got to the front of the queue.
Turns out, queueing is far more tolerable when you’re not doing it with overtired, overpriced, sugar-sticky children and instead with someone you actually like.
Would recommend.
Lunch at Dishoom: Spice, Daal, and a distractingly attractive waiter
Last weekend we were invited to try The New Dishoom in The Yards, Covent Garden, which has all gone a bit posh now. I remember when Covent Garden was full of street performers and sticky floors, and now it’s all bright murals, trendy outside seating with trendy people who probably don’t use the word trendy, and brunch menus with font hierarchy.
Anyway, Dishoom. It was great.
When we arrived, there was a queue outside so my advice to you, dear reader, is that if you fancy it then book in advance as otherwise you’ll have a wait on your hands. Luckily we had a spot reserved on the veranda looking out onto The Yards, a bit shaded (thank the lord, it was a HOT day) but with the roof and windows open. Best seats in the house, I reckon.
I had the Goan monkfish curry, which was quite spicy (actual kick-you-in-the-sinuses spicy). That said, I love monkfish and this was a good one: tender, flavour-packed, and with a good fish-to-sauce ration. Probably not one for the spice-averse, but if you like your lunch to fight back a little, it’s spot on. My boydfriend had a biryani, and although I tried it and it seemed pretty decent, I was really all about my chosen dishes.
I also had the black lentil daal, which I remembered very fondly indeed from my first Dishoom experience some years ago. It might technically be a side but deserves far more respect. Comforting, rich, and creamy; you really need to get a roti with it for the full experience.
I also had a cocktail because it was lunchtime and I am a grown woman with decision-making autonomy. It was delicious and slushie and we know how much I love a slushie cocktail.
Our waiter was unmistakably attractive, and pretty good at his job too; he recommended stuff to us and didn’t forget to top up the water.
Would I go back? Absolutely. For the food, especially the lentils. And possibly the waiter.
We were gifted the lunch in exchange for social media content, which you can see on Instagram and Facebook, and if you want to find out more about The Yards then they’re on Instagram, and there’s a website here. You can find out more about Dishoom and their various locations on their website.
Locked and Liquored up: A boozy afternoon at Alcotraz
After lunch (and a brief recovery period from the Goan monkfish), we headed across town to Alcotraz, which bills itself as a ‘prison cocktail experience’ because that’s exactly what it is. You don an orange jumpsuit, smuggle in your own booze, and get locked in a cell while sassy inmates mix you dangerously good drinks.
Despite being allergic to immersive theatre, I actually loved it; it was silly, chaotic fun with genuinely great cocktails and a basement setting that’s mercifully cool when London forgets how weather works.
Not cheap (around £40 a ticket, plus your own alcohol), but a brilliant novelty if you’re after something different from the usual pub.
Bonus: if you do the 4.40pm experience, you can be tipsy by 7pm and still make it to your mate’s 40th. Highly recommend.
You can read a whole review here:
We went to the seaside!
My kids’ school always has an INSET day on or around smallest’s birthday. This time it fell on the Monday before and we had planned to spend the day at Longleat Safari Park.
However, the combination of the heat and the fact that my car doesn’t actually have working aircon put paid to that idea (and thank GOD, because it would have been a feat of endurance just to see some wanking monkeys) so we did a day trip to Bournemouth beach instead.
We got the very last parking spot right next to the beach, at a car park I vaguely remembered from when I last visited Bournemouth 15 years ago. I’m pretty chuffed with myself there, won’t lie.
We all had a lovely day but bloody hell, were we all knackered, grumpy and over-sunned afterwards. Despite using around 4 litres of suncream we all got burned and I am sure I gave myself actual heatstroke. We Brits just aren’t made for it!
Talking of the heat…
I do not do well in these conditions. So a massive shout-out to my emotional support fan, the Shark FlexBreeze, which was kindly sent to me by Very for a blog feature but has since become my full-time life partner. It’s been on almost constantly this week, and I’ve even tested out the misting attachment which, to my surprise, doesn’t just lightly spritz your knees, it actually keeps you properly cool.
And miracle of miracles: it’s quiet enough for me to sleep through. Which is saying something, because I am a terrible sleeper at the best of times.
Also stepping up in this heat is my Peugeot Saveurs wine cooling sleeve. Thanks to this gloriously simple invention, I can sit out in the garden all evening without having to get up and down for fridge refills, thus avoiding waking the dog, who thinks every movement is code for walkies.
Peugeot Saveurs also sent me an electric wine preserver, which, in theory, is a great way to keep your lovely £3.99 Aldi bottle of plonk fresh for days. I’ve charged it. It’s ready.
I’ve not actually needed to use it yet, because I haven’t had any wine left long enough to preserve. And finally, and entirely unrelated – a moment of appreciation for my salt and pepper mills. They are stylish. They are satisfyingly weighty. They are the exact colour of ‘I have my life together in 2025’, even if I’m eating fish fingers off a dinosaur plate. Yes.
Other things I wrote this month:
I’ve not been quite as prolific as I was in May – probably because of all the things mentioned above – but I have managed to knock out a few posts here and there. Here you go!
And I think that’s it. Well done for making it this far, I was rooting for you. Now it’s time for me to chill the fuck out.
If you enjoyed this and you’re feeling generous, you can buy me a cup of tea or a glass of wine – or donate to my houseplant addiction fund – here.
You can also see my Amazon wish list here.