Yesterday something incredible happened – Fat Sister’s bump became a baby.

I’m now the exceptionally proud aunty of a beautiful wiggly niece.

Fat Sister, King Russell and the little wiggle are all doing well.

As I held her in my arms for the first time, I looked down at her and ticced:

“You’re parents fucked to make you.”…

A week ago I had a minor operation. It involved a general anaesthetic and a small incision in my chest not too far from the spot where my chest-thumping tic hits it hundreds of times a day.

I’m generally mending well but because the wound on my chest was struggling a bit and hadn’t closed properly, I went back to hospital a few days ago where they dowsed me with iodine and re-sealed and re-dressed the wound.…

It’s late, I’m in bed, and my body’s been exceptionally wriggly for more than nine hours. I’m exhausted and need to sleep, but despite several rounds of emergency medication I’m still just as wriggly.

But I’ve just seen a tweet on my phone that’s made me want to pause the battle to sleep and write something instead.…

I’ve been resting at home after a minor operation on Friday to change my pacemaker battery. As a result my sleep has been a bit disrupted by pain and discomfort in my chest. But last night it was disrupted by something very different – “Iron Ore”

Well “Iron Ore, Yeah!”…

It’s 6am, early morning light is creeping in under my pale blue blind, and through the gap I get a glimpse of the garden outside.

I know the lamp-post’s out there too, but it went off about an hour ago and I can’t get a clear view of it when it’s not showing its illuminated orange head.…

Tics can add an extra element of danger to anything, even getting a haircut. For years I’ve had the same hairdresser, Ravi. She’s patient and fearless and knows exactly what to do with curly hair.

A few weeks ago Ravi cut my hair really short.…