I received an invitation last week via The Stilettos Network, asking if I would like to attend a cocktail-making masterclass at the exclusive Colmore Club in Birmingham.
Ooh, yes please!
The venue, which opened in September 2015, is situated in the business district of the city and is owned by Dave Roberts and Jonathan Wilcox. With a beautifully designed social room, board room, quiet study room, kitchen and bar, it offers the opportunity for social gatherings, business meetings, workshops and events for it’s £500-a-year members. I’ve been lucky enough to visit the club before, and it’s absolutely stunning, with the atmosphere, the welcome and the service being exceptional.
The bar is stocked with an impressive collection of spirits, and for those with particularly expensive tastes, a £24,000 bottle of Krug champagne. After previously sampling several of their beautiful cocktails I was particularly keen to try out others that were on offer. Continue reading →
In that email, I’m going to give you a theme. It could be about anything – a time or a place, an event, lifestyle choice, food or a holiday that is approaching. I’m then going to ‘invite’ you to write a blog post about that theme, and ask you to return my email if you’re interested in doing so.
When you reply, I will ask you to include a link to my blog in your post. I’m going to give you absolutely nothing in return, but I may offer you a vague indication that your blog post will possibly be featured on my social media pages. However, I won’t commit to anything – my focus is that your blog post includes information about me.
Would you do it?
To be fair, some of my readers probably would – I’ve known them for a number of years and value their friendship very much. I love promoting other bloggers, and I do so on a regular basis both on the blog and my social media. I don’t expect anything in return when I do this – I love the community and if I can help another blogger I will.
But if you didn’t know me or anything about my blog, I can pretty much guarantee that you’d ignore my email or tell me to get lost. Continue reading →
It was 11am and I was hanging out of the lounge window, smoking a cigarette. My head was pounding from the consumption of my entire bodyweight in Sambuca shots the night before and my feet were swollen and sore from the ridiculously high heels that I had insisted on wearing, despite knowing that I would only last half an hour in them before I had to take them off. I had make-up smeared down my face, my hair was creating it’s own style and had managed to stick up all over the place at the back and to finish the whole ensemble I was sporting my enormous blue ‘Winnie The Pooh’ dressing gown. Gorgeous. I heard the door open and in walked one of my nine flatmates (I lived in a flat of ten at my university Halls of Residence). He’d been up early and was returning from the gym, as he always did at the weekend. He looked at me, smiled and said:
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