RuthEmery's blog

My father is one of those money-saving sorts. Having four children means you have to be thrifty to some extent, and every week he used to sit at the dining room table and cut out coupons from newspapers and supermarket magazines.

Although my finances are not exactly neat and tidy – I never budget, I open savings accounts on a whim and then promptly forget about them, and I have a weakness for overpriced Pret sandwiches – in among the mess is not one, but two pensions.

 No one likes going to the dentist. It’s never comfortable opening your mouth (‘Wider please,’ they say. ‘Open wider!’) and having every single tooth prodded and scraped.

 My one-year old nephew slightly resembles Max Branning. He’s got that big round face and short fuzzy strawberry blond hair. I’m crossing everything in the hope that he won’t have the personality of the Eastenders shifty sales man (and serial adulterer) when he’s older though.

Duck houses, moat maintenance and plasma TVs have been dominating the column inches lately.