Author Archives: Joanna Nadin
These books will save your life
OK. So that’s a slight exaggeration. What I really meant to say was “these books will make you laugh / cry and thus fill an afternoon that would otherwise have to be spent nodding as Auntie Felicity shows your 400 … Continue reading
Back to the start…
So, it’s New Year. And there’s the usual rash of ill-thought-out resolutions and promises e.g. I absolutely will use that pink step machine I bought in a fit of crisp-induced madness for at least fifteen minutes every day. But for … Continue reading
Irresolutions
This traditionally the time of year when I write myself a to-do list of utterly unachievable tasks e.g. a) Learn to like milk b) Remember to take vitamins c) Wear sensible shoes d) And pants e) Train menace to use … Continue reading
When I grow up…
This time next week, I have to stand up in front of hundreds of Bristol uni students, and tell them why I’m a writer. Which has led me to question many things e.g. my sanity when I agreed to do … Continue reading
The ten signs of ageing
Am in state of mild shock. Apparently there are now ten signs of ageing. TEN! I was just about coping when Oil of Ulay (along with a Neanderthal hairline and a tendency to gingerness, I have also inherited from parents … Continue reading
Funny Girl(s)
As you read this I am probably on a train to That London, wearing an inappropriate prom dress and feeling like have just ingested several bowls of porridge and fear. Or possibly (if you are late riser) I will be … Continue reading
Big Bath Blog Story
Mostly I blog about one or all of the following: My daughter, aka the menace, and her habits of singing about dead sheep / demanding a recap of the facts of life. My mother, aka Mrs Nadin snr, and her … Continue reading
Teenage Wasteland
The best thing about writing for and about teenagers, is that it gives you a chance to do it all again, and better. Actually, that’s not true. The best thing about being a writer is being able to watch Gossip … Continue reading
Peopling Paradise
I knew her only vaguely. Billie, I mean. That she was a girl who had been raised In London – Peckham, where I had spent thirteen years – who was then transplanted, airlifted from that teeming, dirty-pavement, all-night city, with … Continue reading
Funny girl
You know some weeks, everything goes a bit pants, and you end up sniveling into a cherry coke and packet of minstrels while watching The Princess Diaries and cursing boys/mothers/small children with a tendency to poo in inappropriate places? Well, … Continue reading