My Bio



Cynical slick chick


New age, old school




Running out of cappuccino sachets


Accidental life coach and practicing mentalist


Bad hair days but sexy hair made me what I am


Floating above castles in the air, from a pipe


What? Again?

My personality test described me as a spontaneous idealist and I have to agree. I am at my best and liveliest when playing with new, creative ideas. I’m a great believer in freedom to express without restraints and being passionate about your work. If what you do doesn’t bring you joy then you shouldn’t be doing it; you’ll never do it well.

I am a creator with two passions: writing and photography which I combine together to create art philosophy:


I have worked for many media publications and companies writing on subjects such as interior design, club and restaurant reviews and interviews.

My most exciting experience was when the Daily Express Newspaper asked me to drive like the clappers to a hotel and interview the Formula One BBC commentator and former racing driver, David Coulthard. I drove so fast that I was there before he was. In my opinion that should have earned me a Ferrari though to be honest I’m more partial to an Aston Martin.

I also write PR for company products, content for websites and blogs.

My personal style is of a whimsical nature. I like to observe people, life and situations and find the humour within; often in a black comedy way. I enjoy reaching into the deeper emotions of readers and making them feel. I write in a storytelling fashion that enables me to engage with the reader and paint a visual picture that they can find some way to relate to.


Hammocks on beaches with a margarita in each hand, junkets, travel, reading, exploring, bacon, freedom, red lippy, cowboy boots, chess, backgammon, word games and psychology for sport.


Hierarchy, control, English weather, black pudding, long queue’s, strawberries, maths, internet failure and spiders.


A free spirited, quirky soul with a passion for the fanciful, that won’t go out in the rain unless there’s a tarantula in the living room or a margarita at the other end.