Its no secret that the French are quite into cheek kissing. I'm not very good at. Which is unfortunate, as get it wrong and folk think your a bastard.

There seems to be a knack which I just can't pick up. You should only really kiss family and close friends, everyone else can make do with a handshake or even just a bonjour (if they smell). Where I get caught out is I am expected to kiss all Raph's family and friends - even the ones I have never met. Theres usually only about two seconds to decide whether they deserve a smooch or not, so theres been many a stranger in the Alps thats been mighty taken aback by my forwardness.

The other extreme is when I forget altogether. Usually made worse by someone else walking up five minutes later for a smooch highlighting my snub, and then I am shamed. Or worse still, someone walks up five minutes later and kisses me - in the snubee's eyes I've just turned round and told them to get fucked.

I'm good at kissing grannies though. I always remember to kiss the granny.




Triangles are the bane of lawn and garden enthusiasts everywhere, though they mainly thrive in hot and dry conditions. As an annual weed, it quickly sprouts roots that crowd out all circles, squares and hexagons. If you're not vigilant, they can take over your garden faster than you can say "get out my fucking garden, triangle".








I'm itching now, the frantic half arsed cleaning has begun, along with the fidgeting and bitchy remarks.

I couldn't find my trusty nicAssist inhalator this morning (that looks not dis-similar to a tampon) so I have decided to draw whatever is in front of me when I would normally smoke.

This may end up as a collection of disastrously shitty drawings, but I'll post them up anyways, good and bad. They will be numbered in the order they are made with no commentary, as I know there is nothing more tedious than a ex-smoker bitching and moaning about how much they miss smoking.

Apart from non-smokers bitching and moaning about how much they hate smoking.

I jest.


quitting, again

Now that I am literally too poor to continue smoking, the time has come to quit, again. Usually when I quit I am full of determination but this time its just resignation. Maybe this is better, I don't know yet.

My tobacco running out coincided with my after dinner cigarette which was quite nice. It meant I could smoke my 'last cigarette' whilst looking up at the stars, and I even added a nice song on the old ipod for good measure. I shant tell you what, just to keep the moment sacred and that.

The stars here are frigging amazing. They're probably just the same as anywhere else out in the countryside, but I didn't get out of Glasgow much before I moved here, so I still get a bit shocked and awed on a clear night. Raph often catches me sitting in the dark on the balcony smiling at the sky like an imbecile. He thinks I'm a wank.

Anyway, all this meant it was one of my most enjoyable 'last cigarettes' yet, a little like saying farewell to an old friend. An old friend who talks shite, smells and makes annoying little holes in your clothes when your not looking; but one I'll miss all the same.


Haughty Bitches sticker pack

To aid my narcasistic need to be on every corner of the internet I now have a spanking new Etsy shop here.

These bad boys are an etsy "exclusive" and shant be sold anywhere else until next month.

quel temp fait il?

The weather yesterday was maybe the best its been since I got here, and so far today seems to be going along the same lines, hurrah! Not a cloud in the sky but a teeny tiny cold wind to stop me melting into a puddle of sweat - which happened a lot this summer. And everything is so green! Everything always seems green here -probably because it is- but in sun like that it almost sparkles, and warms my cold Scottish heart. Even the crickets and grasshoppers didn't bother me. Normally they freak me out a bit as they look like mini aliens but yesterday they added to the countryside/mountainside soundtrack quite nicely. All is well and good. Apart from the wasps. Wasps are arseholes.



I was right up near the top of the mountain tiling the flat we're moving into during the winter today. The weather was pretty shitty, so as we were so high up we had to walk through real live clouds to get back to the car.

I was bitterly disappointed to discover that clouds up close are not like a mixture of candy floss and cotton wool as I had imagined most of my (apparently naive) life, but just boring thick fog. Freezing cold and wet thick fog actually. Raging.


haughty bitches

Without my noticing, my 'mini zine' grew into a small book. They're now printed, bound, hand numbered and ready to find new homes.

Tis a limited edition of one hundred, 180mm x 148mm, b/w 28 page bad boy (or bitch) and is available at Analogue, the Fruitmarket Gallery, Red Door Gallery and online here.

milk magazine

Eddie Yuen Label is a var nice man and has featured me in his weekly column at Milk Magazine (HK), merci!



Just back from a wee holiday in Glasgow and I'm done in. Ran my self ragged trying to meet up with everybody and even managed a few jaunts to Edinburgh and Ayr to play tourist. It was exhausting but lovely, even if the weather was shite.

After bitching and moaning about Scottish weather and strangers asking for cigarettes for two straight weeks, I was alarmed to find my self getting a bit teary on the drive back to France from Geneva. To make it all the more mortifying it was Raph's mum and sister who had picked me up. I flung on my sunglasses in hope of disguising my episode so Agnes and Melanie didn't think I was distraught to be back in their company but this just made matters worse. For one, it was overcast with no sun making my eye wear a little conspicuous. I then discovered trying to wipe my eyes discreetly underneath massive shades was impossible and just made them steam up leaving me a blinded, sticky red disaster. Thankfully nobody mentioned it so either they didn't notice or were just as mortified as I was.

Today though the sun is out, the birds are singing, and after much cheese and chocolate yogurts I am more than happy to embrace French life again. I'm a fickle little bitch.