My BBC interview with Fred MacAulay

I discuss online dating and my new book, Casting The Net, on the BBC Radio Scotland show, Macaulay and Co. My interview starts at 42 minutes in.


My book is published!

Snap it up NOW from Amazon for £1.99 at the link below.

Also available as a paperback for £6.99 at the second link

My book is due out early June!

My book is due out early June!

Here’s the front cover of the book, which is about my online dating experiences. It’s based on the blog you read here, but is an ‘uncut’ version packed full of the juicy bits The Herald couldn’t allow. It also has an introductory chapter explaining how and why I started online dating. You can keep in touch by liking my author page on Facebook here

Gone With The Wind

What’s the etiquette in a one-night stand? I’d never had one so was a bit flummoxed the morning after.

 The Clown had been thoughtful enough to set his radio alarm clock for me but, once The Today Programme clicked on, I was on my own. He’d reached over, scratched at my back, then rolled away into sleep again.

He obviously wasn’t getting up to make me a coffee or see me off. But should he? What are the rules here? I shrugged to myself, thinking I’ve shamelessly thrown myself at this man so all thought of ‘etiquette’ is long gone.

It was awkward, creeping around in the Clown’s silent flat. I’d prefer to have just unlocked the door and slipped out but I couldn’t find my coat. He’d thrown it somewhere last night. I had to go back into the bedroom and shake the slumbering oaf awake to ask where it was.

Keep reading here

Say Hello, Wave Goodbye

I told my sister, Jenben, I was going to The Clown’s flat so there’d be a witness should I never return.

 There’d been too many Crimewatch reconstructions where I’d shout at the screen ‘don’t go down that alley! Of course there’s a murderer there!’ I could just see my Clown demise re-enacted on the BBC with people discussing it on Twitter the next day: So she met this evil Clown online, yet still went willingly to his flat? Was she mad?
I was due at his flat for dinner at 8. At 8.35 I was still pacing the floorboards at home, knitting my fingers together. I texted Jenben, I can’t go.
She texted back right away, Julie you’re going to ruin this.

She’s right but I can’t phone a taxi. I can’t leave the safety of my warm flat to venture into his heartless territory. My phone goes again. It’s him. Have you left yet? I feel a snarl of anger. He’s kept me waiting for months, so he can wait just a bit longer.

Keep reading here

Thorn In My Side

I was hit with another panic attack that morning. I stepped onto the train for Glasgow Central and as soon as the doors slid shut it swooped down on me.

 The panic went straight for my throat. I wanted to claw the doors open and jump onto the tracks. I wanted to strip my coat off and howl. I moved quietly towards the doors, in a quintessential British terror of ‘making a scene,’ and stood there praying for the next station so I could jump out.
Why did I get back on a train? I placed the fingertips of one hand on the glass of the door to try and feel how close fresh air and escape was. I screwed my eyes shut and tried to make my mind glide off somewhere cool and empty. As we pulled into Crosshill, I had given up my British decorum and was hammering the ‘open’ button. The doors slid apart and I got out onto the beautifully cold platform and watched the train disappear. It’ll be an hour and a half walk into work. I’ll be late now and will have to explain and apologise and get my pay docked but I was just so glad to be off that train. I put my iPod on and tackled the long hike into work.
Keep reading at HeraldScotland here

Please, please, please let me get what I want

The Chief was dishing out tough advice. ‘I’m bored hearing about The Clown. Put an end to it, before I do you in.’

‘Put an end to it how?’

‘Just say ‘Is it yes or no. If it’s no, then f**k off, Coco.’’

‘He’s not called Coco,’ I grumbled.

‘Mr Chuckles then, or whatever this total and utter d**k is called. Either get him or move on.’

‘He’s busy. He can’t just drop everything because I want to pin him down.’

‘Rubbish! What’s a clown got to be busy about?’

I shrugged. ‘Juggling.’

‘Then you need to ask if you can put up with a man who devotes so much time to playing with his balls.’

‘I’m just worried,’ I told him ‘that he’ll pull out at the last minute.’

‘Why, he’s not Catholic is he?’

To keep reading, go the HeraldScotland here