Can anything cure this London ennui?

A study published today by YouGov has confirmed what we already knew: not everyone in the UK likes London. And honestly? *quiet whisper* I'm starting to agree. Ok, it's not breaking news that the northern section of the UK feels they get a raw deal compared to the capital. But whereas once I'd defend the city that's enchanted me ever since my first trip as a child, I've lost all interest in London and everything it has to offer.

To me, London was full of history, mystery and a little bit of adventure. I dreamed of living in a little flat on a quaint street above a classy bar, right in the centre of the action. Now? No way.

The problem is, it's just so blah. 'Oh, there's another yak-meat pop up stand,' 'Oh, another rooftop bar's opened,' 'Oh, yet another secret-underground-say-the-password-wee-in-a-toilet-shaped-like-lips prohibition bar.' Yawn.

Streets and buildings full of character and history are torn down to make way for buildings like the death-ray Walkie Talkie, or Crossrail (we miss you, Astoria). Once gritty urban areas like Shoreditch which were actually quirky, are now full of hipster hangouts, shops selling overpriced onesies and PENNY FARTHINGS EVERYWHERE. It's forced and it's so uninspiring.

I'm no longer enthused by London or anything in it. I feel like I've seen all I need to see. That's quite sad. And really hard to admit, especially considering I have a northern fiance who will no doubt print this off, and literally rub it in my face.

I can't deny it any longer. It's a beautiful place, full of memories. But it's too crowded. It's far too expensive. And it changes people. Where up north I'm mild-mannered and wouldn't hesitate at stopping for a quick chat with a random stranger, in London I have PLACES TO BE and THINGS TO DO so move out of my way you moron tourist and NO THAT BUTTON DOESN'T OPEN THE TRAIN DOORS YOU PRAT.

Can anyone help me get my love of this once amazing place back? Or should I cut my losses and look for fun further afield? Are their other cities that I should definitely visit in the UK, or is it time to get out the backpack and leave it all behind?

The first image, and loads more, can be found here.

Interested? Read on...

Here's how to... sleep on a flight

In my very special role as an online magazine editor and general PR person, I'm always jetting off on BA flights to far-flung destinations with a Starbucks in one hand and the latest Vogue in the oth... OK so I'm lying. I don't even like Vogue, and the last "jet setting" I did was a three and a half hour flight with the joy that is Ryanair. I spent £15 on water, Pringles and Nutella dippy sticks. Lux. You. Ree.

But summer is looming, and with Britain being pretty much as unpredictable as a cat standing in an open doorway it's not difficult to understand why most will pack up and fly to hotter climes.

So in order to feel refreshed when you land in Fiji/Dubai/Benidorm, here are a few tips to get a decent sleep and avoid the 'lag when you land.

1. Pack your jammies

So we all see Victoria Beckham and Angie Jolie step off the plane in leather leggings and the tallest of heels, without a hair out of place. But if you're slumming it in economy rather than riding First Class, leave the heels in the hold and wear comfy clothes. Take yoga pants or even PJs and a onesie with you if you're flying long haul, and steer clear of synthetic fabrics which can leave you hot and flustered. It's all about comfort.

2. Hand luggage is your friend

While hand luggage can leave you limited, especially if you're not checking bags in, make sure you pack a pair of decent earplugs, an eyemask and a neck pillow, as well as headphones. If you're sat next to an annoyingly chatty passenger, it's a lot easier to wind down conversation if you have some supplies. And although you can't do much about a screaming baby on a flight, ear plug will help drown out the noise.

3. Sack the booze and ditch the telly

Alcohol may make you feel sleepy, but it's far easier to be woken from a champagne inspired nap than a natural one. And you'll end up feeling thirsty and dehydrated thanks to the flight. Stick to decaf tea if it's on offer, or fruit juice. And don't be tempted to drift off to a film. It'll only stimulate your brain to stay awake, so forget watching The SOund of Music for the fiftieth time, and chill out with a good book.

4. DND

If you've fallen asleep and the plane hits turbulence, the cabin crew will wake you up to ensure you're buckled up. If you don't want any disturbances, wear your belt over your blanket to they can clearly see. Also, have a word with the crew and let them know you won't want to be disturbed. It may mean skipping an airplane meal or pretzels, but at least you're almost guaranteed a peaceful snooze.

5. Go bananas

Depending on where you're flying to, you might be served rich foods like curry or stodgy foods which can make sleep difficult. So once you've gone through passport control and you're by the gate, skip the booze and perfume in Duty Free and pick up a banana, bagel or rice cakes. They have a high GI count which will spike your blood sugar and help you drift off.

These are a few tried and tested tips to help get some shut eye. What have you done to sleep in peace while travelling?

Interested? Read on...

If I ever become famous...

I'm almost thirty and it's becoming evident: I'm running out of time. But, if in the next few years I do somehow find fame as a medical marvel, a wonder of journalism, for discovering a new dinosaur, for winning the Nobel Peace Prize or for ending up surviving a plane crash in the jungle, I'm sure people will be clamouring to my childhood home to get a glimpse of where it all began. So here's a quick tour.

It's a simple dwelling. A ground floor flat in a bit of a crappy council estate. Number 6.

You'll see the communal drying area outside my bedroom window. It wasn't always like that, it was once green. On the street outside my bedroom was where, as a girl not even in her teens, I heard a scream from a man being beaten with rocks. This was a pivotal moment in my life: when I realised doing good around bad people will mean problems and a stint of witness protection.

You'll hear the tour guide explain it all, you'll look around and you'll realise how my roots really had a massive part to play in my fame. "She didn't always have it easy," people will say while taking photos and thinking about the contrast of my new found fame. "I love how down-to-Earth she is."

The green(ish) hallway, where my sister and I would pick off the anaglypta wallpaper and chase each other pretending to be T Rex, terrifying ourselves until we hid in the bathroom. It was on those scary chases I discovered my love of adrenaline, and dinosaurs. The guitar artwork on the wall was created by my mother. I always thought it was beautiful. The photos and paintings inspired my love of travel, and I'd sit and gaze at them, creating adventures in my head and wondering what was just around the corner.

My bedroom. Well. Our bedroom. Until the day I moved out I shared with my sister. Look around the room and you'll see shelves of Beanie Babies and porcelain dolls. You'll realise where I developed my fearless nature. After all, who can sleep peacefully when a thousand eyes of lifelike dolls watch over you? I can. Under the bed will be stacks of clutter, old Shout magazines, and a collection of Gloria Estefan CDs. I never did get my own personal organisation under control. The photos on the door, of cousins and friends I once admired and was desperate to have them like me when I was an impressionable teen. There's no point trying to figure out who they are, we haven't spoken for decades.

The kitchen was the hub of the home, and until the extension (I pity you not ever seeing how tiny the flat once was, the rooms that jut out into the huge garden were added when I was 11 years old) there was a hatch to serve food directly into the dining room. Here is where mum would make all manner on Sicilian treats, and once in a while dad would serve up steak with a blue cheese, or redcurrant, sauce. Open the kitchen cupboards and you'll find the sweetie drawer, full of snacks and treats and only ever accessed with strict permission. Dad was the supplier of sweets.

The living room. The Lego in the corner stayed there from the day it was bought. I'd tell friends it was for my younger cousins, but even as a teen I'd sit and create crazy houses. As a family, we'd eat in the living room. Every Thursday night we'd go to the Tesco at Serpentine Green and buy a tub of Ben & Jerry's each, which we'd then consume while watching the latest episode of Friends. Family. Ice cream. Perfection.

The garden. The shed. Full of spiders, and adventure. Our cat, long since dead but his paw prints remain in the concrete, used to bring dead birds and mice to his crudely build outside shelter. My sister and our friends would build dens of stick and leaves, pick cherries and blueberries for mum to make jams and pies. The tree stumps behind the flats. I cried when those amazing trees were cut down. And the barbeque (with 1996 scratched in the concrete) for when we used to hold awesome parties with friends.

What else will fans want to know, I wonder.

The neighbours upstairs? Once home to a drug-addicted but talented guitar player, then a dear old lady, then a full-on mental prostitute who almost attacked my dad in one of her rages.

So all in all, my childhood home was a mixed bag, full of love, happy memories and a few scary ones. But I'm glad I could share it with you. Now I'm off, to do whatever it is famous people do.

What would your childhood home tell your adoring fans for if you find fame? Let us know in the comments below, or how about leaving a link to your blog?

Interested? Read on...

Wanderlust and Envy: Iceland's Lofthellir Lava Cave

A real mix of fire and ice. And danger. Unsuitable for children, or those with claustrophobia, the caves are found below Iceland's lava fields. Carved from a volcanic eruption 3,500 years ago, they trail underground and make for one surreal experience of ethereal icicles in cavernous chambers. As you can see from the images, the natural formations are astounding.

As someone with a borderline obsessive fascination for caves and secrets of the underground, WANT.

I've been advised by Off The Map Travel, a tour company that arranges the expedition, this isn't a walk in the park. The route is slicked with ice, and you'll need to slide down precarious slopes, squeeze through gaps of 50cm, clamber up slippery ridges and slither down ropes draped in frost. And that's just to literally enter the caves.

The caves themselves have ice and water on the floor and maintain a pretty constant 0°C – so not too chilly. Waterproofs and thermals are definitely worth it though.

Adventurers are given all the safety equipment you'd expect, including helmets with headlights and studded ice boots, and each walk is led by an experienced guide. It's an hour's drive to the ice fields, another hour across them, a brisk mile or two walk, and then on to the caves themselves.

Prices start from £599 per person and includes 4 nights accommodation as well as a whale watching tour in summer or Northern Lights tour in winter.

This is definitely on my bucket list. Slippery slides and all.

Interested? Read on...

A little more conversation

Hello hello.

How are you guys? It's been an AGE since we last got round to posting anything here. You can blame me and my disorganisation, as well as a last-minute week-long jaunt to a Greek island and an Adults Only (possibly Swingers) hotel.

While sipping many rum and Cokes by the pool, I got to thinking. And it's time to give this here online magazine a focus. Because right now, we're just about everything. Like a library of food and drink and hotels and days out and everything else. And that's what we've loved.



But we're not lifestyle bloggers, who write about their day-to-day adventures (mainly because we have none). We're not beauty bloggers. We're certainly no food bloggers.

So what are we?

What should we do more of?

What should we just forget about?

We're asking you guys for help. We held a little survey for our best blogger pals and learned some really interesting bits. But now we want our readers, bloggers or otherwise, to help us out by spending around 50 literal seconds on this anonymous-unless-you-don't-want-to-be survey. As a thank you we'll be offering the chance to win a little goodie bag of mystery treats once the results have been collated.

Thanks so much for reading, and for your help.

Interested? Read on...

Review: Gina Conway Aveda Salon and Spa, London

I'd hurriedly rushed up Fulham Road in the direction I thought the salon was located, before realising I had actually already gone too far. A frantic assessment of Google Maps had me throw a quick 180, cross the road, and head back the way I'd just come searching, searching for number 612 on the busy high street. The salon - when I found it, was so very unassuming that you would be forgiven for missing it if you didn't already know where it was. It lacked the normal Sandwich Board Specials you expect from your high street chain salons, but with clientele bragging the likes of Made In Chelsea's finest, perhaps this wasn't Any Old Salon.

I was greeted with a warm welcome, escorted to, and asked to take a seat in the Waiting Area. Would I like a drink? I would, thank you. Make mine a coffee. For lunch time on a Saturday, the salon was already heaving. There were three of us waiting to be seen, while the majority of the seats inside the salon had already been taken by earlier clients. There was an air of emergency; very much a "there are people waiting, we must satisfy everyone!" vibe, which - as a result, meant I wasn't left waiting very long. Except for that coffee, that only materialised about half an hour later, after I questioned its whereabouts.

Soon enough, I was met in the by the exotic Kiran, and led three foot forward to the Hair Washing Station; conveniently located within the Waiting Area. Handy. Except, I wasn't about to get my hair washed, I was about to experience the salon's famous Glow Facial - a bonus plant-based exfoliating treatment you can choose to include in your regular cut and blow dry experience, for some added pampering (and pennies; £15 for the treatment on top of your salon experience). The lights above the Waiting Area/Hair Washing Station were dimmed, and I was told to make myself comfortable.

With my neck at odd angles and my legs out straight in front, I was told to take Three Deep Breaths while Kiran wafted some delightful aromatherapy oils under my snout, and began the treatment on my semi-made-up face - sans consultation about the products that were to be used, but avec consultation about the procedure. I don't recall the exact treatment, if I'm honest; there was a lot of Cheek Manipulation and thick oils massaged into my sensitive skin and more Three Deep Breaths, but mostly what I remember was: a lot of noise - primarily from the hectic Waiting Area cum Treatment Area and the fact the toilet, staff room, and back door were right there. I'm told there is a full treatment room downstairs, where one can enjoy an array of relaxing procedures... doesn't that sound nice?...

After the Cheek Manipulation/massage of oil into sensitive skin/repeat was complete, a warm flannel was used to wipe 'clean' my skin; I was given a mini head massage (so lush), and I was then sat up right and led - bare (and massively oily and red) faced over to one of the free chairs in the front window of the salon.

Would I like a drink? Oh yes please, make mine that white coffee from earlier, thank you. There, I dared look at myself in the mirror; I was a hot mess. blotchy, oily and red faced, with my hair at all angles and make up smeared across my face. At this point, beyond embarrassment, I was greeted by my stylist Paul, and handed my coffee. I can't imagine what Paul thought he'd done in his life to be so lucky to have me as a client in that particular moment, but I tell you what; I was mortified.

With my feeble attempt to apologise for the state the head massage had left my hair, and as I frantically tried to wipe my mascara from where it had been left on my forehead, Paul sat there patiently and laughed with me. Not at me, with me. Like a good lad. His laughter was only ever to be short lived, especially after I explained to him that my most recent hair cut was done by me, with the kitchen scissors. I saw that poor man's heart drop with his eyes, as they rollllllled back into his head. It was the reaction I was expecting, to be fair - it's also the reason I don't go to the hair dresser as often as I should.

Thankfully, our consultation was brief; I'd laid few rules; no layers, blunt fringe, a couple inches off the ends max. His only quibble was with the layers. He was the professional after all, so we discussed the pros and cons of layers, and I was convinced to let him layer the underneath of my hair, not the top, so that it wouldn't be visibly noticeable, but so I would notice the weight relief. Fine.

I was then shuffled back to the Hair Washing Station. Now, who doesn't love their hair being washed? It's probably the best bit about going to the hairdressers, no? Well, it was lush. Whomever played that part of my treatment needs a high five, because it was lovely. Except the part where the deep treatment had to stay in for five minutes and I was left alone. Once she returned and the treatment was rinsed off, I was returned to Paul and my now-cold coffee, and the real treatment began.

Paul was lovely. We chatted like old friends the whole way through my time with him. He was attentive to my hair concerns, and paid a great deal of attention to what he was doing - especially as he got all up in my eyes with the fringe trimming, and conversation with him was never hard. This is another reason I hate going to the hairdresser; forced conversation. Well, it never felt forced, and we had a lot in common to talk about. The hour with him flew by, and before I knew it, he was blow drying his creation and clipping my fringe aside so I could see to de-hairing my face in the bathroom (and applying some make up so I could face the Fulham public afterwards).



When I returned to his station, he was gone. I fiddled about a bit with my fringe, as it was a bit wonky from the clip, and looked about for him and his industry-strength hairdryer so I could fix the problem before I left. He never reappeared. After a few more minutes trying to do something with my fringe so I looked acceptable, I grabbed my jacket, a business card, said my thank yous to the jacket-getter-employee and asked her if she could pass my thanks on to Paul herself. Of course she said she would, but I thought it odd he didn't come back to say goodbye himself. I assume he knew I was there to review the treatment, so was a tad let down he didn't follow through with me to the end.

Once I was out the door, I hauled all my hair up on top of my head as I normally would, only to discover that the layers he'd convinced me would be a good idea underneath were now too-short to make it into my bun. Thank god for pins, eh! When I got in and blow dried my fringe straight, my disappointment was doubled when I noticed that it was still wonky. Wonky, and cut into, not blunt as I'd asked. Clearly when I'd had my eyes closed, some hairdresser trickery ensued. I'd mentioned cow licks in my fringe, and I know he added some product to combat that, but as he's cut it with product in, he'd not taken the natural kinks into consideration. Again; there's a reason I do my own hair - I know what I'm doing, and how I like it to look. Thankfully it will grow enough for me to fix it in a few weeks, but until then, sadly it's staying up.

The cut itself and the treatment I'd received had left my barnet in a top quality state; shiny and healthy, and I couldn't be more happy with how that's turned out. The style is fuss-free, which means I can wash and go and it will pretty much do itself, which is a huge bonus as I'm kind of lastminute.com in the morning, and keen to sleep as much as possible.

This style allows for maximum sleep.

The Glow massage I'd received on the other hand, had left my skin inflamed, irritated, and when I woke up the next day; broken out. The combination of exfoliation, massage oil and the fact that I wasn't asked to clean my skin prior to the treatment, meant that my skin was angry and rebelling. I was cautious to not add fuel to the fire and steered clear of heavy make up, opting for BB cream for the public's benefit for the next few days, but even come Tuesday morning, my cheeks were still red, sore and spotty. Not ideal on a thirty year old.

Overall, my experience was a mixed bag.

The service was incredible; the staff were ever so attentive and welcoming, but also a little lacking when it came to the things that really mattered (after care, allergies, etc). The treatments were each wonderful, but could have been more so had they been given in a calm environment and not in the busy waiting room of a busy High Street salon.

The value for money was excellent; £37 for a ladies cut and blowdry (and I assume this includes the standard hair wash), including full consultation and precise cutting - with the added bonus of a really nice person to chat to, was definitely worth it. I would definitely suggest that if you're going to consider adding the Glow treatment (£15) to your salon cut, that you consult the ingredients first, prepare yourself with clean skin, and speak to the salon staff about any concerns you might have.

Learn from my mistakes, guys!

Thank you to Paul and Kiran and the rest of the team over at Gina Conway Aveda Salon and Spa on Fulham Road for the wonderful experience. I'll be back... just don't touch my fringe, ya hear!

By Erica.

Gina Conway Aveda Salon and Spa  | 612 Fulham Rd, London SW6 5RP | 020 7731 7633

Interested? Read on...

Edinburgh Adventure | Review: Angels with Bagpipes

Following on with the 'let's have a wander and see what we can find' theme of the Edinburgh Adventure weekend, after heading back from the Camera Obscura and braving the cold we decided to stop for a bite to eat. Pret, Maccies and Wetherspoon's all offered the same old same old we could get on our lunch break. So after having a stroll around the old town, a gorgeous restaurant caught our eye.



Angels with Bagpipes (what a name - well, it is opposite St Giles' Church) is located on the Royal Mile,and a prime tourist location. It looks absolutely gorgeous from the outside, and as we were dressed in jeans and tees, we weren't sure whether we'd be allowed in. After being refused entry from a MEXICAN restaurant with my parents as a child for wearing jeans, I've always been mortified at dress codes, preferring to find something more suitable than go through that ordeal again.

Amazingly we were warmly greeted by the girl working front of house. She mentioned that as it was Mother's Day, the back area of the restaurant was booked up with lunches and dinners, but we were more than welcome to grab a table at the front.

We sat at the window table, and the menus were brought over promptly. We decided for a glass of prosecco and two courses, as we still hada bit of walking to do, and went with the beef, a chocolate dessert and a rhubarb concoction. The menu was a bit limited, but what do you expect from a lunch menu?



The beef arrived soon after ordering, and was the most tender meat I've ever eaten. It was more the texture of pulled pork, but it was delicious. It looked gorgeous on the plate too, so of course there were the obligatory photos (don't hate us).

With the mains polished off, it was on to dessert. The chocolate was so, so rich, and so tasty. It was served with a refreshing Clementine sorbet type cream which balanced the flavours so well. And considering I've never understood what people mean when they say a 'balance of flavours' I'm pretty sure a trip to this place years ago would have solved that issue.

The rhubarb and custard treat was served rustically in a Mason jar, and was just the right combination of sweet and bitter. It came with two little biscuits which finished off the meal nicely.

All in all, it was a flying visit. We probably didn't stay for more than an hour, and it would have been lovely to have stopped for dinner. Still, we're so glad we stumbled upon this gorgeous little place.

A two course meal with glass of prosecco will cost £21 each.

Angels with Bagpipes | 343 High Street, Royal Mile, Edinburgh, EH1 1PW | 0131 220 1111

Interested? Read on...

Tretinoin and Retinol: Are you right to be wary about Vitamin A skincare?

It's no secret there are a million lotions and potions out there promising the wearer better skin, from BB creams to sperm facials (seriously). But since the seventies, Vitamin A has been knows as a bit of a wonder for skin. It's anti-ageing, great for breakouts and makes skin glow.

Vitamin A and it's derivatives are found in over the counter skincare lines (an ingredient know as Retinol, a weaker derivative of Vitamin A), or can be prescribed by your GP or by a dermatologist (known as Tretinoin). If you've ever suffered with acne, you may have heard of Accutane (isotretinoin), an oral form of Vitamin A which requires regular hospital trips, dries out the skin and lips, and can cause severe birth defects.

Topical Vitamin A, though, increases the production of skin cells and thickens the dermal layer at a cellular level. So, mixed with a cleansing routine that sloughs away congestion and the top layer of skin, it promotes a healthy looking complexion. Basically, it gives you thick, soft skin.

It also helps with collagen production by stimulating the skin's fibroblasts to produce more. The more collagen your skin has, the more youthful it looks. Put very simply, it gets rid of fine lines, wrinkles, and helps scars look smoother. You probably know that collagen production slows down in our mid twenties, I've seen it myself and I'm 30 next year. OH THE WRINKLES. So anything that kick-starts collagen production is great.

It also helps reduce pigmentation from sun damage.

It's a wonder cream, surely. Who needs botox and expensive facials when you can just slap on some Vitamin A every night? Well, the reason why people fear it so much is because used incorrectly, it can cause you to look like you're a snake shedding its skin. Redness and irritation is widely reported as a side effect,  even in lowest of the low doses of 0.025%.

Clearly Vitamin A is a potent little beast.

So say you suffer from problematic skin. Say you're noticing lines appear where they never were before. How can you go about safely using Vitamin A?

If you're in no rush to get your skin looking grand, find an over the counter cream that contains retinol. It won't work as fast as Tretinoin, but it's perfect if you have sensitive skin or don't want the chance of peeling and irritation. Once applied to the skin, it takes an extra step to convert to the active ingredient found in prescriptions. But hey, those wrinkles and sun spots didn't appear overnight, right?

If you're suffering with scarring or want to see dramatic results, see if your dermatologist will prescribe you Tretinoin, but at no more than 0.3%. You'll need to apply it at night, leaving a two to three day gap between applications until your skin builds up a tolerance after a few weeks.

It should be on the top of your skincare priorities anyway, but Vitamin A does make skin more photosensitive, so a broad spectrum SPF of at least 30 should be worn every morning. Combine with a Vitamin C serum in the morning to protect the skin from oxidisation (you know what happens to an apple when you leave it out and it goes brown? That's oxidisation) and you'll be well on your way to healthy skin from the inside out.

So what do you think? Are you a fan of retinol and Vitamin A, or are you too timid to try it? Let us know the products you rate below.

Interested? Read on...