I never took to Big Jane, an enormous doll with tarantula eyelashes that my parents bought for a small fortune. I loathed her, and the only time she came out of her cupboard was when the church needed her to play baby Jesus in the nativity plays.
A supposedly romantic dinner in Paris turned sour when the man opposite said: ‘I think you’re the funniest, smartest and most interesting woman I’ve ever met – I just don’t fancy you.’ Talk about an Eiffel of dreams come crashing down.
I identified as a four-year-old and absolutely smashed it in the local primary school’s egg and spoon race.
I never have to report where I’m going or tell anyone what time I’m coming home – heck, I don’t even have to come home! And often don’t. Places to go! People to see!
She started to sweat profusely, then went into a kind of shaking tremor where I could see she had lost consciousness. Fainting, or a heart attack? I summoned up the zero amount of medical training I have and started to fan her profusely with the inflight magazine.
Rain, rain and more rain. There’s nothing quite like this country’s weather to send Brits scurrying to websites, fantasising about how much happier they would be if they left the drizzle behind for a new life in the sun.
I’ve always been fascinated by history, especially the Romans who I have always admired for their building abilities, which they managed to fit in between eating grapes, shagging each other senseless, and killing each other in amphitheatres.
Breasts were also a big problem. I had, and continue to have, problems understanding why girl dancers as young as four need breasts, but that was, and is, very much the norm. To this end, two mini aircraft hangars were fitted into each of our dresses, and we joined this army of breastless breasts marching, in unison, like some glorious, sequined, Himalayan range.
IKEA is like giving birth (I imagine): it’s hell while you’re going through it, but the end product is well worth the wait.
I realised it’s always been there in the lyrics, but revisiting the show in 2024, it took on a new resonance. As ‘Swiftians’ hit the headlines on a daily basis, worshiping their idol, Taylor Swift, I was struck by the ‘Christians’ comparison. A cult following.