I'm tying myself up in inarticulable knots this week, thinking about how to write about International Women's Day, writes Liz Breslin.
Eighty-nine years of bridge jumping and a sign is trying to stamp out decades of local history with no consultation or sense, writes Liz Brelin.
Once upon a time, I was at one of those meetings where people do that icebreaker chat that goes - Tell us a secret about yourself. This was my big reveal: I love watching Next Top Model, writes LIz Breslin.
It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas, writes Liz Breslin. The fridge is stuffed, the house is full and the car parks in town are more crowded than the mitten in that Ukrainian folk tale.
There are times when it 's very good to be able to overcome self-doubt. To dwell in a state of certainty, writes Liz Breslin.
You can’t be good at all the things all the time, and nobody likes a show off, but I would like to be a little bit less distinctly average at growing things, says Liz Breslin.
When there's nothing remotely interesting on TV, channelling your inner collage artist is not the answer, writes Liz Breslin.
They call it a weed in these parts. And yet I'm driving home with an eye out on the green beyond the roadside every day so I can catch it in its first bloom, writes Liz Breslin.
The garden wants a good weed. The pantry needs clearing. The fridge, a good cleaning. The car needs maintaining. The house interior needs painting. The house exterior needs painting, sighs Liz Breslin.
Today, I'm going to be drinking coffee. Of course, because it's a day with a "y'' in it. But today I can drink coffee with special purpose and meaning because it's International Coffee Day, writes Liz Breslin.
The Dali Lama has a lot of good stuff to say about mosquitoes, like how if you think you are too small to make a difference, you should try sleeping with one, writes Liz Breslin.
If the Wi-Fi was down (unthinkable) and the postal service obsolete (inevitable) - how would I ever make my deadline, wonders Liz Breslin.
It’s a complex business, the naming of people and things. And there are laws about it, of course, writes Liz Breslin.