10 Swedish tips for not freezing to death

In Stockholm I spent my first winter getting by wearing knee-high football socks under my jeans and my feet freezing in Converse, but now I understand the wisdom of an old Swedish saying, which goes “There’s no such thing as bad weather, just bad clothes.” This winter thing just got real.

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The Festivus Edition

Christmas should be all romantic and beautiful, there should be comedy mishaps and action adventures with unlikely endings and my unrequited love should run and kiss me in the street. But none of these things have happened.

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The Thinx Underwear scandal in the Republic of Williamsburg

Recently, the company Thinx, which makes, and I quote, “underwear for women with periods”, met a lot of resistance when trying to buy advertising on the subway - the same actual subway that features ads for breast augmentation, tv show promotions that require Nazi insignia to be pasted the length of the train carriage, cocaine dependency studies, scary liver cancer posters, lawyers with phone numbers like 1800-MARGARITA, dead rats, abandoned condoms, alive rats, and Dr Zizmor. But still, periods are apparently more offensive. So I decided to buy some Thinx.

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Greetings from 3am: Insomnia

I guess I've never been a great sleeper. Mum tells me that when my sister and I were little, she would hear us talking to each other and come in to tell us it was past our bedtime. She'd soon realise that creepily, we were in fact already asleep, but with our eyes wide open, having a nonsensical conversation from the depths of our subconscious

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The John Cusack-Style Top 10 Plan

Depression is not a new thing for me, I have been struggling with it on and off since my teens with a pretty bleak period in my early 20s. Generally these days, it’s under control, even if it lurks just out of my consciousness like a nightmare I can’t quite remember but sure as hell don’t wanna have again.  

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Welcome to Twin Peaks

Most people who know me also know that I am a very, very big fan of David Lynch. This all started when I accidentally watched Eraserhead on public broadcasting at midnight when I was 16. It was like someone had lit a match in my brain. I wasn’t allowed to watch Twin Peaks when it was first broadcast, but when I was 17, I fell absolutely in love with it, and would search in vain for cherry pies to eat with my friends while we watched the show at each other’s houses (usually we had to settle for doughnuts, as Australian summer isn’t exactly conducive to an abundance of cherry pies). 

So now, many years later, I finally made the trek to the Pacific Northwest, where most of the series was filmed, with my friends Marley, Andreas and Simon.

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Random Acts of Travel

Recently I realised that I don’t do a lot of things (take a trip to Twin Peaks, indulge in 5 star hotel weekends, spontaneously rent a cabin in the woods, take a train to the mysterious Sleepy Hollow, attend midnight horror movies from 1981 which may or may not  feature Ernest Borgnine) because I’m single. Last Halloween I overcame my fear of awkwardness and discovered that it is actually possible to attend films alone, especially at midnight (and especially if they feature Ernest Borgnine). After that hurdle was cleared, I wondered what else I could conquer.

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Rearranging deckchairs on the Titanic?

"If There Is I Haven't Found It Yet" is an extraordinary play. Somehow it manages to be both very much of this moment and peculiarly British, and yet universal.  You could set it in New York and it wouldn't cease to be relevant, although the particular self-persecution did strike me as rather English, not to mention the mini moral panic about tomatoes flown in from Spain and purchased at Tesco, Evil Tesco of all places!

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The Fear.

This week, the fear of learning to snowboard. I know what you're thinking. It's "Are you SURE he's not plotting to push you over the edge of a mountain and make it look like an accident and you will be found 127 hours later with one less arm?"

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The List.

The Nightclub door List is a myth. The List is New York's answer to a comprehensive record of the entire membership of the Illuminati. Obvious you say? Well yes. But the problem is, if The List doesn't in fact exist, then how on earth do you get on it if you're not insanely beautiful? I think I have an answer.

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