I feel like I may well start sounding like a broken record if I carry on talking like this. That said, I’m willing to take the risk because this shit’s important. Like really important. So buckle up kids, she’s going in for it.

WE HAVE TO STOP DISCRIMINATING AGAINST EMOTIONS.

Before your mouse moves to the little cross in the corner thinking, what an earth is this woman on about, give me the grace of a couple of lines. Just a couple, I promise, it’s worth it.

We need to talk about the British stiff upper lip. …


Despite having written that post last week about how we all have the choice to choose how we feel, which, I still maintain is 100% accurate; I fell into a corona hole. It was almost as if my mind was like ‘Ha! You think you’re so strong and in control, preaching to the world about controlling me..try controlling me now..’ I had a bit of a weird week, a couple of things happened in my personal life which threw me off track, I was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed with trying to figure out exactly what it is I’m…


You know what I realised the other day? Drumroll. I realised that literally nothing that happens in life can impact the way that I choose to feel and that the way I feel is exactly that, a choice. When I feel hurt, I have chosen to feel hurt, When I feel happy, I have chosen to feel happy. This probably sounds a little bit far fetched but the strange thing, is that however much I’ve tried to find ways to prove that situations can fundamentally make me feel bad, it’s actually never the situation. Like ever. …


I got my first real six-string, bought it at the five-and-dime, played it ’til my fingers bled, was the summer of ’69. No. It wasn’t, sorry I’m not that old, but I got your attention right? It was, in fact, the summer ‘07, I’d just finished my A levels and was making the most of a (non-masked, the nostalgia) summer with friends before heading off to University. It was the first summer after I’d passed my driving test so I spent pretty much my entire life zooming around in my VW feeling like nothing could stop me. I was finally…


Just need to find a big enough chair. Photo creds: stephsocial.com

A couple of weeks ago, prior to being plunged back into the fog of another lockdown, I spent the day down at my sisters with her husband and my two little nephews to reconnect with the more wholesome aspects of life outside of the frenetic central London humdrum which invades the majority of my days (despite not having a job…)). …


My life. A story told in stages, by mugs.

I never really planned to go into banking. To be honest, I never really planned to go into anything. Whilst my more motivated friends spent their university summers doing internships or getting work experience trying to build up their CV ready to jump straight into the working world, I was swanning off travelling or falling in love with French boys who woo-ed me with their pain au chocolats & afternoons spent wandering french villages drinking rosé. Suffice to say, I graduated with next to zero idea of what I wanted to do next. …


Coronavirus. Self Isolation. Quarantine. Panic buying. Loo roll shortages. Protein shortages. OAT MILK shortages. The world has gone crazy. London seems to have transformed into a semi-war world where solo people wander the streets, carefully managing their 2m radius from others, maybe smiling to acknowledge the awkwardness of the 2m radius but more likely just looking down to avoid any social interaction (we’re still British afterall). Three months ago, I’d just got home from South America, I was ready for 2020, to make 2020 my year, the year I finally got around to doing all the things I’d planned to…


On a saturday evening a few months ago, at an unknown hour (am I the only person who relies entirely on their phone to tell the time?), sat cross legged facing my ‘sharing partner’ on a squidgy red cushion in a hexagon shaped room lit with tea lights and smelling like incense, I opened my mouth and muttered my first words in 2.5 days. TWO. AND. A. HALF. DAYS.

I wish I could tell you the first thing I said was something profound & meaningful. Something that a yoga teacher should say, like that I felt fully at one with…


I’m a pretty conventional kind of soul. Pretty much the epitome of a home counties child. Born and raised in the beautiful county of Buckinghamshire by wonderful parents as the youngest of four children. My first school was about 10 metres from my parents front door. I biked my bike around the village with friends. Ate sweets on the village green. Made up dances to Backstreet Boys songs, genuinely believing I could become a backing dancer (it was only recently that I realised I have NO RHYTHM). Went to senior school not far from Reading. Decided for a short period…


Being active & busy has been part of my identity since childhood. It’s part of my DNA — both my Mum and Granny have & had absolutely zero ability to sit still. Even when my granny was 90 years old & struggling to swallow anything, surviving primarily on Gu chocolate pots & soup (she was an absolute trooper & wonderful woman, never once complaining of the monotony of her diet), you’d still find her rushing about the house trying to find anything at all to do to keep busy, laying tables, ironing already ironed clothes, baking, doing crosswords, always desperate…

Lucy Puttergill

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