So, when an attractive stranger asks me if I want to grab some coffee, all common sense totally flies out the window, and what do I say?
“Sure!” (Insert a little drooling)
And then the worrying begins.
I know, I know, grabbing coffee is totally innocent. Yada yada. But, years of motherly concern, “What time are you going to be back?”, “Be careful when you drink”, have been totally ingrained into my thinking. I mean, I’ve been on the streets at two at night. Alone. In some of the roughest parts of London (yes, I’m a Brit), but those worries don’t stop flying around my head. No matter what. Read More »




Okay, I’ll admit it: I’m paranoid. Seriously. I look over my shoulder when I walk home at night. I don’t accept phone calls from numbers I don’t know. It’s not a fear thing; it’s more irritation that I can be tracked down.
I spend a lot of time telling myself to relax.