Chronicles of a Trailing Spouse...

) I've just finished reading Caitlin Moran's brilliant new rant 'How to be a woman', which claims to be 'The Female Eunuch' , written from a bar stool.  It is absolutely hilarious, and addresses all the issues that modern women have to contend with, from periods, high-heels, abortion, childbirth, Brazilian waxes and what to call your vagina --  to the bigger questions of modern feminism (or lack thereof) and why it's fallen off the radar of late. In an age where more little girls want to grow up to be the glamour model  Jordan   -- whom Moran describes as 'Vichy France, with tits' --  than a schoolteacher or doctor, we have to ask ourselves what happened to feminism; where did it all go wrong? In a brilliantly simple excercise to ascertain whether you are indeed a feminist or not, she advises - "Put your hands in your pants. a) do you have a vagina? and b) do you want to be in charge of it? If you said 'Yes' to bot...

Since DH and myself are once again separated  by oceans, continents and time-zones (we will join him after Christmas), and without the all encompassing sorrow of hovel-house, nightmare neighbours or fears over DH's liberty, I find myself now free to focus 100% on being a demoralised single-parent. They don't! As I write, I am sitting in the cafe in Eason's bookstore, nursing a cappuccino, facing the self-help section, which given my current state of mind, seems appropriate. From where I sit, Louise L. Hay assures me that I can heal my life; Paul McKenna promises that he will make me sleep (not without wine he won't) and  Sherry Argov explains why men marry bitches (apart from Brad Pitt, generally they don't: Men are uncomplicated creatures and prefer women of a similar persuasion --insofar as is possible, what with them being women and all -- and want to marry a woman who will make his dinner, give him a cuddle and occasionally go down on him.  And if...