Born and raised in the South East of England, I worked in London for ten years as a journalist* I had a little bit of money saved which could have gone on a house deposit or a year in Australia. For reasons I may never go into, I chose the latter, buggered off and had four glorious, ridiculous years in Sydney before waking up on new year’s day aged 33 with crepey cleavage and a sudden and fierce urge to return to London to find myself a man.**
Two years later, job done, me and the man moved back to Sydney for 18 months where we became parents to BUB.1 and I became an Australian citizen. On arriving back in London I fell pregnant again with BUB.2, and six months later moved to Hertfordshire, just north of London, to have him. Not one to sit still, eighteen months later we moved again, back to the village where I grew up.*** Still close enough to London for WW to work there and close enough to my parents to allow me to get a haircut or eat an occasional meal sitting down. We then preceded to have BUB.3 and sitting down became a distant memory.
So Disco. A play on words. A place to write. I hope you enjoy it!
Love Disco xxx
*My journalism career spans business, technology and marketing; the glittering hair and beauty world; the hilarious and heart-wrenching matter of parenting, and a number of tangents in between. These tangents have seen me live in Australia for six years, gain Australian residency and then citizenship. They have seen me interview the man who discovered Oasis, the founder of Moshi Monsters, chat to Davina McCall, interview the naked creator of The Lovers’ Guide (I wasn’t expecting him to take his clothes off for the photographs!), talk to Noel Edmonds about TV and meet my Mum’s teenage idol Adam Faith. I’ve interviewed CEOs of the largest technology companies, stood next to Bill Gates eating a hot dog and I’ve met Buzz Aldrin. I’ve ridden a donkey in Nazareth in a pencil skirt and floated in the Dead Sea, walked on hot coals in Dubrovnik, ridden down the Pacific Motorway in the Gold Coast on the back of a Harley Davidson, eaten crab in Jaffa and reindeer in Oslo and had my palm read inaccurately on Sydney Harbour.
**Sydney had a lot of eye candy but none of Willy Wonka’s everlasting kind for me. For the purposes of this blog, and with utmost respect, I shall herein refer to my man as WW.
***In manner of a deranged human boomerang. Just call me Dorothy