New Year, who dis?


Hello, All and Happy New Year.




Ok, I know it's almost February but I started this year coughing up blood and having my immune system suppressed while trying to make a sloppy, fever-bound contribution to a journal I'm in love with. Bah. The pending humiliation is both inevitable and palpable, my friends.

P a l p a b l e .

So, amid the pandemonium that shall henceforth be referred to as, "Bloody Lung-gate", blog posts have taken somewhat of a back seat over the last few months. But failing bodies aside, things have actually been rather busy in Imposterland. Hanukkah came and went and brought with it, some very fetching slippers.


Well, hello, Cosy Town. 

Ignore the blurry faces on the walls, that's just what happens when you photograph brown people. We're like vampires except, instead of the sans reflection thing, we have blurry faces on camera. And if we ever try use mirrors, we just see a giant laddu staring back at us where our heads should be.

Anyway, Mooish Christmas was fantastic, we had Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with my family (because yay, Jesus) then went away with the in-laws between Boxing Day and New Year (because nay, Jesus) to this ridiculously picturesque winter wonderland :




There were horses prancing around in the snow outside our bedroom window, this pleased me greatly. Then we came home and 2018 began and here we are. Much of January has been hospital appointments, bed rest, and blood tests but there have been one or two pockets of intrigue here and there. For instance, I have dubbed myself the Cleopatra of Chronic Illness and shall be as decadently sick as humanly possible from now on. Having a giant inflatable crown really lifts one's spirits, you see.




I've been too unwell to go to the salon so, I've maintained these fanciest of pants with glossy, housebound gel manicures care of Amazon Prime and YouTube nail tutorials. There's something about freshly lacquered nails that satiates me, especially when I'm sick. When I'm sallow and tired, and can no longer face my own reflection, they stare back at me, rock hard and glinting; reminding me of who I was- one bad bitch that can get through anything.

I've also found myself back in the kitchen. I stopped cooking and baking when I got sick but I've found myself enjoying it again. Christmas is great like that. Ok, ignore the ridiculous festive nails, severe lapse in judgement.




In terms of actual news, I was interviewed by online lifestyle magazine, Europe & Me a few weeks ago. They caught my shouty, sweary segment on Women Of The Hour about dating as a young British Muslim and wanted to talk. They were so sweet and I was honoured to be featured on their "Baby Get Intimate With Europe" page. You can read the full interview by clicking the image below:


Click Me

I'm sorry for being incommunicado these last few months, I'll try harder this year to post even if it's just a short paragraph or two. I hope you are all well, had a relaxing Winter break and rung in the new year like nobody's business. It's a shame we don't know each other in real life, you're really missing out on our much coveted Mooish / Christmukkah / interfaith holiday cards. Yes. They are as excellent and unnecessarily complicated as they sound and I think last year's offering was my absolute favourite.





That's not my hand, that's our friend, Judey. Also, I don't have a giant squid for a head. My head is a blurry laddu, we've established this.


Right. I'm off.
Bye now isn't it.

-N


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