Cat Cruse

I'm writing this in that weird bit between Christmas and New Year when you're essentially made out of Quality Street, wine and cheese and you haven't moved further than the fridge for what feels like weeks. HAPPY DAYS. Obviously during this time you need much entertainment in TV format, and whilst the scheduled shows are always great this time of year (I personally am watching Poirot, although I can't take Ron Weasley seriously as a mean old cop - and World's Strongest Man starts tonight which is a highlight of my TV year - anyway...) it is always good to put on a film to fall asleep to with a cup of tea and mince pie around 3pm, isn't it? Yes, yes it is. 


And personally my favourite kind of film at this time of year is a Terrible Christmas Film. By that I mean a made for TV film - Hallmark used to be the gold standard, but honestly Netflix have released some absolute shockers this year- in which two people fall in love and somehow learn the meaning of Christmas at the same time. Usually a bakery is involved. Unsure why. My

So if you would also like to undergo the pleasure/pain, I have done a little round up  - in reverse order - of my top five favourite terrible Christmas films from the (some would say excessive) selection I have watched this year. There are some spoilers but believe me when I say this really doesn't matter, as none of the plots make sense anyway. I really do recommend you watch them all - it's what Baby Jesus and Santa would have wanted...

If you haven’t read Tatler recently (and honestly, who has?) you might not know that in a continuing effort to be the most baffling irrelevant publication still in existence they published an article last week entitled ‘The new rules of posh.’  

Within it, the self-titled ‘style bible’ (whatever that means) listed the things that are no longer considered ‘posh’ – which includes iPads, wearing make up outside London and using mouthwash – along with the things that are. Things you need in order to be considered posh now include having a job (okay good), flying easyJet (bit odd but okay), Xanax (hang on a second) and – really, I am not making this up – having gout.

Gout – you know! That unpleasant inflammatory disease that causes a rash and painful joints! It is the illness Henry VIII died of, which is presumably what Tatler were alluding to, conveniently ignoring that it’s relatively easy to get fat and drink too much these days without cracking open the champagne and killing the fatted goose to do it.




So far, so absolutely mental, but it got me thinking about what I think you need to be considered posh. When I was at school this was relatively easy, because all you needed was to have a slightly nicer than average house or a fancy school bag and you’d be called a posh wanker, but I feel things have moved on a little since then.



And so apropos of nothing and having been asked by absolutely no one, I have compiled my own list of things that I would consider make a person posh (all in good humour, of course). I hope  you enjoy and feel free to add your own in the comments!

Oh HELLO.

It's been a while, but I'm glad you came (I'm singing Britney Spears 'Break The Ice' now. This 'keeping it concise' thing is going really well so far). 

If you used to read my old blog and you have clicked on this post (either from Insta or because I slyly shifted all my old followers over to my new URL without you noticing) then thank you. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for sticking around and still being a little bit interested in my incoherent ramblings. And if you are new then HI, if you want you can follow me too. You can just subscribe via email in the side bar and then you will never miss a post! And if you clicked on this link because you thought 'Catscruse' meant 'Cat screws' and that this was a porn site then sorry you are going to be quite disappointed. Thank u, next. (I don't really know what that means I just wanted to sound like I was down with the kids) (I'm not). 


So I thought for those of you who did follow my old blog I would start by doing a little 'where have I been' piece. If this is boring do feel free to skip over it and I will write something more fun soon, I promise. But here goes.

I have such a love-hate relationship with Instagram. On the one hand, it's this lovely place filled with avocado on toast and nice outfits and hot chocolates with cream and girls who say 'Your hair looks gorgeous, hun,' and on the other hand it's all weird bots following and unfollowing you and commenting senseless things on your photos or asking you to buy their sunglasses, and Instagram refusing to show anyone a photo you edited for two hours, and people who clearly have veneers selling tooth whitening products.


Touching hair: check. Looking down: check. In sketch: check MATE.


But we can't live without it, can we? And on that basis I decided to write down the 26 things that I think all Instagrammers do. (Why 24? I don't know. I couldn't think of a 25th, basically).

Please do comment and let me know that I'm not alone/crazy - and let me know any I have missed.

Oh, the things we do for the gram...



 A few days ago I stood in front of my wardrobe, stared blankly at the clothes looking back to me, and uttered those famous words:

‘I have NOTHING to wear.’


The difference between this time and every other occasion on which I’ve uttered that phrase (usually two glasses of white wine deep on a Saturday night, red in the face with every dress I own screwed up in a ball on the floor behind me) was that for once, it was true. I have just started a new job and I literally cannot seem to find a single thing to wear.



This seems to be occurring more and more - I just don’t know where to shop anymore. I cannot find a shop on the high street that caters for a working girl of 30 (and by working girl I mean a girl with a job, not a prostitute, which would actually be much simpler).
The tube. It's great.

People from other cities will tell you all the time about how lucky you are to have such a great public transport system ('You don't even need a car!' - actually, you'd quite like a car, but you can't afford to park one...but that's another story, never mind), and deep down you are quite proud to be a London commuter. 

But...well, it's awful, isn't it? It's really awful. 

And so on this delightful Monday morning, I have decided to round up the ten things that annoy me most about commuting in London. Please feel free to let me know any I have missed!


1. The people who think it's really fun
The tube being rammed? Doesn't really annoy me.
Obviously it isn't ideal but it's a bit like being annoyed by, say, night time. There is no point in being annoyed about it; it just is. 
The people who think it's absolutely fascinating that the tube is rammed? Who discuss it loudly to each other, debate on why it might be ('Is the district line down? Maybe there's a football game on nearby?') who discuss other options they will never take  ('We could walk to Holborn? We could get an Uber to Clapham Junction?') and who sometimes -  these people are the worst of all - take a photograph, reaching up into the air to take a photo of what is basically just your daily grind?
That annoys me.
Bank in the morning? Always busy. Chancery Lane at 5pm? Always busy. Oxford Circus at any time of the day? Busy. The Northern Line, anywhere, at all times, even the middle of the night? It's ALWAYS BUSY.
And look, I'm really glad for you that you don't know that. I'm glad that instead of spending your morning staring blankly at the back of a man's suit so close up you can see the individual fibres, you are having a lovely relaxing time doing something more worthwhile - eating a hearty breakfast, maybe -  doing some yoga, hugging a puppy.
But please, do not make a spectacle out of my mediocre, painful existence by exclaiming loudly that you COULD NEVER DO THIS EVERY DAY and then proposing you walk the rest of the way 'to get some air.' I thank you.

First of all, I know, I know – many people would think me ludicrous to base any deep discussion on the goings-on of Made in Chelsea: Ibiza. But while past story arcs have appeared somewhat dubious to say the least, the latest love triangle – which has spilled out into the Twittersphere – seems very real, and has opened up some really interesting debates. Not least, in my opinion, in its constant referring to the unwritten rules that female friends should live their lives by – the ostensible ‘girl code.’


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