I was hygge before it was cool.

Last month I went to my parents house for dinner, the lighting was low and candles were burning. 'It's huh-gah,' my mum proclaimed and with that the term 'hygge' officially became mainstream.

The thing is, I'm Scottish so I'm used to long, dark, cold winters. And I'm lazy, so I'm used to long periods sat on the couch in fleecy pyjamas with the heating on. Since buying a flat 4 years ago I have shunned expensive nights on the town in towering heels for cheap nights in the flat by candlelight. It's not that I'm trendy, it's that I'm tired and skint.

I don't need a 'Little Book of Hygge,' I was rocking a grey cotton lounge combo long before EasyJet started offering cheap returns to Copenhagen.

Like 'Normcore' and the 'Dad bod' before it, 'hygge' has taken a simple concept and given it a rebrand. Staying in, being at home, spending time with family: all everyday, unglamorous albeit fulfilling achievements. Yet without the sexy skandi terminology why are we so ashamed to just stay at home and vegetate?

The period between Christmas and New Year is the perfect time to exercise your right to lounge, so put on your comfiest pyjama bottoms and a jumper that has seen better days and chill the fuck out. 

Turns out I do need the Little Book of Hygge

An ode to the Pret Christmas sandwich.

My favourite part of Christmas is the eating: tonne boxes of Celebrations, M&S party food and enough roast potatoes to cater for a small principality. There is no festive feed mightier however, in my humble opinion, than Pret's Veggie Christmas Lunch.

A Christmas sandwich is a wonderful thing: an edible celebration contained within two slices of delicious bread. It is a taste of the best of times that can be eaten at the worst of times, a little bit of festive cheer for a long train journey or a joyless lunch stuck at your desk.

Pret offers 2 Christmas sandwiches (3 if you count the vegan one, I don't) and while the traditional meat number is delicious it is the vegetarian alternative that has my heart. Perfectly roasted chunks of butternut squash sit alongside something akin to stuffing, nutty and rich with a surprisingly fruity edge. Add in some mayo, some rocket and a smattering of crispy onions and you have a taste sensation. Just thinking abut said sandwich has made me ravenous.

Basically what I'm saying here is go to Pret today for your lunch, buy it, eat it and feel fucking fantastically festive. No need to thank me.

Treat Yo'Self

Sometimes, despite your best efforts, the simple stresses of life permeate your soul. I'm talking about the everyday Everest's: a particularly painful week at work, an empty bank account a fortnight before payday, the anxiety of an overdue smear. Like Jenga, these individual non-issues stack up unsteadily before one rogue piece (a misplaced set of keys, a finger burnt while cooking dinner) renders the whole thing a messy heap.

So how can we help ourselves when we feel overwhelmed? 'Don't worry' is a comforting phrase but I'm the kind of person who assumes my boyfriend's been in a terrible car accident if he's over 15 minutes late getting home from work. When I was young I would lock myself in my bedroom and cry if a member of my household was poorly, worried about what fate awaited them.

So, to stop myself from crying in the work toilets or reaching for a weeknight bottle of wine, I've found a few things that help me look after myself:

Sheet Masks
I am obsessed with Japanese style sheet masks. Soaked in cooling serum, these super thin cloth/paper masks require the wearer lie down for a minimum of 15 minutes. May I recommend pairing with a comedy podcast for ultimate escapism.

Walking
Going for a walk in the crisp winter weather is perfect for clearing your head. I find I get some of my most rational thinking done when powering home from work after a hectic day.

Netflix
Get into a TV show with loads of episodes and get caught up in somebody else's world for a little while. Warning, binge-watching American Horror Story may result in some weird dreams.

Writing
While my inability to write as regularly as I'd like makes me agitated, I find quiet comfort in composing these mundane monologues. Carefully selecting words and phrases challenges my brain and calms me down.

Eating pizza in my pants
Because sometimes carbs and the Kardashians is just what you need...

A winter walk

Forget FOMO, this Autumn it's all about GOMO (Getting Out More Often)

As autumn makes itself truly known with a blanket of glorious russet leaves underfoot and a cool, crisp chill in the air, it's hard to resist the overwhelming urge to hibernate. Outside is cold and inside is so very warm (if you are as lavish with the central heating as I am). 

The term hygge is this year's buzzword and while the Danish wellbeing philosophy of hiding away from the elements certainly has its place we shouldn't use this as an excuse to avoid living life. The lead up to Christmas is jam-packed with fun things to do, so I’m going to embrace autumn and GOMO (Get Out More Often).

Halloween

Halloween is an underrated holiday in my opinion. Every year since I was small I’d start planning a costume weeks in advance and my Mum would ensure the house was suitably spooky for a night of dooking and guising. This year I’m hosting a small soiree complete with cake pop eyballs and bloody punch, the scariest thing will be fitting more than 2 people, in costume, inside my tiny flat!

Bonfire Night

I’m a little bit scared of DIY displays after a rogue rocket came straight for me and burnt a hole in my brand new Skechers in 2001. That being said there are some perfectly safe Firework spectaculars going on all over the country where you can watch the sky light up in glorious technicolour.

Autumn rambles

There are few things more satisfying than walking through a carpet of crunchy leaves. Autumn is breathtakingly beautiful in its gold and copper glory and the weather is perfect for long walks with loved ones. Grab your coat, wrap up warm and head out into the great outdoors.

Run for it

I’ve signed up for a hill running event in March (full disclosure, it seemed like a good idea after 2 glasses of wine) so I’m going to use the autumn months to get into running. I figure if I can find the willpower to pull myself away from Netflix to do exercise outside in the cold then I’ll feel unstoppable.

Whatever your plans for autumn, you can promote, manage and host your own successful GOMO events with event planning software from Eventbrite.

The gruesome cake pops

The perennial pains of shopping for wedding guest get-up

I love weddings. Dressing up, drinking all day, slow-dancing with the one you love: all excellent things. I adore watching as soulmates exchange vows, best men tear up and Fathers beam proudly. Full disclosure, I am also obsessed with canapés. What I strongly dislike however, is finding the perfect outfit to wear to watch your pals get hitched. 

Despite my penchant for the colour pink I'm not really a girly girl and when donning my gladrags I like to feel comfortable and look cool. The unofficial uniform of a female wedding guest is body-con or flashy florals painstakingly picked from your local department store. These particular styles make me feel fat and frumpy and uninspired (no offence Coast, it's not you, it's me). 

This week has been a race against time to find something, anything, to wear to my cousins impending nuptials. I am one high-necked, unflattering dress away from a full fraud investigation on my credit card. Yesterday, in a leather pencil skirt, I threw on my running shoes and hotfooted it across town on my lunch break in search of something spectacular. It was a sweaty affair.

What I found was something safe: a black, boxy blazer/blouse hybrid that when teamed with black shorts looks smart and simple. Yes, it could probably also be worn to a funeral but with a 'statement' bag (when the cashier said this I immediately liked the bag 75% less) it will do the job.

I know it shouldn't matter what I wear, it's all about the bride etc but there is NOTHING less forgiving than a candid, high definition wedding photograph. Especially, if like me you have been blessed with the world's most expressive face. 

But basically, the moral of this story is there's something out there for everyone to wear to a wedding in order to feel like the most sparkly version of themselves even if you drive yourself insane trying to find it. And anything goes (except perhaps a long, white gown).

The life-saving blouse. £36 Topshop

Things they don't tell you on Instagram #2

We are living in the age of the #health hashtag. Our social streams are awash with clean eaters and bikini clad burpee babes. Our beloved carbohydrates have been replaced with vegetable imposters and I'm here to say what others won't: cauliflower rice is pretty crap. 

Let's face it, cauliflower would be lucky to make it into anybody's fruit & veg top 5 unless smothered in a rich, silken cheese sauce. So when you have to whizz it in the food processor, squeeze out the liquid (rendering your fave dish towel unusable) and flavour it with a million things to make it palatable it seems like a waste of bloody time. 

Courgetti is marginally less offensive but is best enjoyed raw so that when smothered with bolognese and half a block of Parmesan it has a texture that is vaguely akin to pasta. As soon as you try and warm it through it becomes a soggy, squidgy mess. 

Lettuce wraps are also a thing and I am ashamed to admit that I have, on occasion, used them to wrap fajita filling in place of a gluten laden, kcal-tastic tortilla. But I didn't enjoy it, I was just trying to be 'good'. 

I know we should look after our bodies and that replacing refined carbohydrates with more nutritious alternatives is a positive lifestyle choice, and one which I endeavour to follow (at some point). But let's cut the bullshit: pasta is delicious, rice is nice and bread is best. Nothing compares...

This was a sad day. 

the consequences of living for the weekend.

I, like many of my peers, am the epitome of a weekend warrior. A classic 9-5er, by COP (or whatever other moronic corporate acronym you despise but definitely use in work emails) Friday I can hear a Prosecco cork pop from 50m.

The thing is I'm just not built for binge drinking anymore. As I write this, on a Wednesday evening, I am still faintly aware of Sunday's abhorrent hangover lurking around in my temperamental gut. It has taken 2 pizzas, a Nandos, a mountain of mac and cheese, endless cups of tea, countless cans of Diet Coke and hundreds of comforting cuddles to help get me back to normal. And that's just the physical symptoms.

For me, the emotional aftermath of a heavy weekend is often as debilitating as the actual hangover. I feel anxious and sad (especially when my rum-fuelled drunk persona has been 'annoying crying girl') for days and the slightest thing can bring me to tears. Scuffing the shit out of brand new silver boots for instance.

This week, drowning in the depths of this harrowing hang, I cry; "never again". Until next Saturday that is...