Sméagol goes on a group tour catered for the over-60s demographic called The Magic of Andalusia! There are bright sunny days and informative talks about the Moorish architecture in Granada and a full day spent cheerfully being shown about limestone mountains and pine forests in Cazorla National Park.
1. Spend your entire childhood and adolescence in Australia reading books from the northern hemisphere. Pretend that you understand the following things: mint jelly; tobogganing; conkers. Dream about snow. Dream about roasted chestnuts. Dream about mince pies. Dream about Christmas tree forests, the heavy scent of pine and cold. Dream about Christmas sweaters, the uglier the better. Dream about opening presents in front of an open fire. Dream of deep, long, dark nights, and the hope
I had never before read anyone who understood the particular kind of fury I felt -- a fury that felt like being a teenaged girl, and being young and queer, and being hated. There was something in everyone in that book that I loved and recognised: Ishmael’s transformation -- his neediness and then “cool collected dive at death”; Queequeg’s skill; Starbuck’s terror. And in Ahab, I found the kind of madness -- almost completely forged of anger…
Previously, Mikaella Clements terrified Toast readers with If Gwyneth Paltrow Were Your Girlfriend. Most of the time I don't even think about it. It comes out, surprising me as much as it doesn't surprise my audience. I'll be rattling along, cheerfully enjoying myself and talking too much about The Iliad or Taylor Swift or how much I hate the British Problems meme, and then the conversation turns and suddenly my girlfriend, the prettiest girl in…
Previously in this series: If Prince Harry Were Your Boyfriend
If Gwyneth Paltrow were your girlfriend, doors would open for you a little quicker, you'd always have enough room on public transport, and black cats would jump out of your way. Dogs would howl when they saw you, but you never really liked dogs that much anyway.
If Gwyneth Paltrow were your girlfriend, you'd ask her, giggly and a little
The night before I moved overseas, my friends and I went to the pub. We were there for about six hours and I don't remember much beyond a blur of yelling over each other, a lot of hysterical declarations of love. At one point some boys came up to try and hit on us and one of my friends looked up and said, cold and furious, "Our beloved is leaving
