The funny side to life as a working single Mum. My stories of embarrassing escapades, toddler tantrums and great expectations.
Wednesday, 31 July 2013
I *heart* Caitlin Moran.
Moran is indie without being pretentious, intelligent with just enough ego and funny but dry enough. Like a good cider; she's no white lightening but she isn't quite a Bulmers either. Definitely not a scrumpy but certainly not completely refined dry. Caitlin Moran is the Brothers cider to our sisterhood. Original enough to be convincing but tastes nice enough that you don't have to pretend you like her because she's cool.
To then discover that this woman is not only married...yes, married! How bloody normal. So normal, it makes it unusual. Not only is this woman married to a man, she has two children. Two of them! Two. Of. Them. This, of course, makes her even more accessible for a woman of my intellect and prowess.
I had discovered Moran a few years ago on the telly box interviewing Fay Weldon and talking about her own childhood of being one of several children, home schooling and family financial struggles. I found her interesting back then but hasn't picked up on her again until finding this gem of a book, bought for a mixture of I know her, the quote on the front is funny and her boots are awesome.
As you read Moran's thoughts and theories on life, you build a picture bigger than her writing; a portrait in fact of her life. Like me, Moran embarrasses herself a lot and has string opinions, a lot of those too. She writes passionately about her hatred for party bags which is something on my current agenda for the first time. Alongside this, Moran writes about feminism in a way so honest and new it's like it's a whole new concept. She writes about fashion as an outsider, as someone who likes to look in and occasionally step over the threshold, soon returning to those refreshing DM boots.
To give you an example of Moran's brilliance, here is her take on our addiction to caffeine:
"So many aspects of modern life I'd never understood before-things that had completely baffled me about society-suddenly became obvious-once I'd spent a month off my face on tea."
Moran doesn't write as a wife, as a mother, even as a writer. She writes as a woman, encapsulating all sides of her moranthology and leaving them wide open for her readers to delight over.
I urge you to go and read some of Moran's work and if you see her, tell her Cat Hadley is always up for getting off her face with her on beer, or a cup of tea.
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