My sex ed at school was rudimentary at best and focused very much on the many ways in which you could get pregnant and/or STIs and/or die. Not exactly the Continue Reading →
When it comes to complaining, many New Zealanders cling tightly to their British roots. They’d rather die than send their soup back. But sometimes, sending the soup back is absolutely Continue Reading →
Except I do, of course. And I bought this one because of three things: the title, the cover, and the recommendation. I didn’t know anything about it.
I am never going to stop caring about spilled milk. And here is why.
While I was interviewing him for a different story, Dr Richard Doehring casually mentioned that he was “host to a colony of hookworms.” His tone was gleeful. I thought, wtf?
I’ve said a lot lately that I am not going to write about welfare any more. I am tired. I am so tired of saying the same things over and Continue Reading →
Every day, nine people are diagnosed with breast cancer in New Zealand. Pink Ribbon Breakfasts are held every May to raise money for vital research.
This week I wrote a piece The Wireless about the science – and experience – of fecal transplants.
I’ve been thinking about the Labels post I made last month, and about the many ways in which we define ourselves.
My application for the Supported Living Payment has been approved.