There is something that has been bothering me. I noticed it first on a TV ad, and then again at the weekend in a flier that fell out of a magazine.

It’s bath fillers.

‘What the hell is a bath filler?’ I hear you cry, your forehead crinkling in confusion, and you may well ask. In my mind a bath filler is a young man draped in robes, with a crown made of leaves, who fills your bath for you with fresh goat’s milk while you lounge back, sipping champagne and eating peeled grapes, handed to you by a young maiden. It sounds so decadent, what else could it be?

It’s a tap.

An actual tap. View Post

A couple of weeks ago, I went to Bath university to see England play Australia. They won. It was awesome.

It was the first proper live netball match I have watched that wasn’t being played by slightly wobbly mums, and it was incredibly inspiring – we all came away absolutely buzzing, and with big plans for our own netball team.

Less inspiring though was the team mascot. The event was packed out with women and girls, and yet at half time they got this: View Post

There is one simple question that splits parents neatly into two groups. Two groups who each take equal offence at the other’s morally reprehensible approach to parenting. If you are looking for something that defines the difference between a yummy mummy and a slummy mummy, this is it.

(Ooooh, what could it be??)

No, it isn’t the breast vs bottle debate.

It has nothing to do with your feelings on state vs private education.

It’s not about washing your hands before meals, or how much television you let your children watch.

It is this:

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