Self-Care Sunday – Just STOP

This is a Self-Care Sunday post, which was started by wonderful blogger and social-media expert Elizabeth from Rosalilium: a weekly post to talk about self-care. And because I believe self-care is extremely important, I have decided to join my fellow blogger and write about it.

This week I’ve been thinking about stopping: dropping everything and just standing still. It’s like when you used to be a student with no car and had to walk or take public transport to go to the supermarket. You would put all of your groceries in plastic bags and carry a week’s worth of shopping home. You’d begin with a lot of energy and determination, to soon start questioning how smart it was to buy a box of detergent and that huge bottle of milk. With those crappy plastic bags cutting your fingers, your back seizing up, you quickly realise how worthless it was to shower that morning, now that you are completely drenched in sweat. You spot a bench, drop the bags, sit and you’re in heaven. Not only does it feel wonderful, but that short pause gives you the extra energy you need to get home, with a better stance so your back suffers less and an actual smile when you walk into the guy you like.

Self-care is self-preservation. Animals know it best. They won’t put themselves at risk if they feel weak or vulnerable, because they don’t want to pay with their life.

Why is it that some of us ignore the warning signs and carry on? Why is it that when we know, deep down, that we are not functioning, we still keep at it? We become snappy towards those we love, we get sick, we take stupid risks like driving under extreme stress, or make the worst decisions of our lives out of a form of self-inflicted pressure.

On Friday I stopped. I just couldn’t function anymore. Sick, weak and in a lot of pain I held on to the idea of walking my dogs. I kept thinking I had to do it even when I broke down in tears, even when a coughing fit almost made me choke, even when my abdomen hurt so much I could scream of pain. All I had to do was stop. Nothing else.

I spent the day on my sofa. I watched Jane The Virgin, I took a couple of naps. The world didn’t stop spinning, I still have to do the dreaded tax-return, finish knitting some 2,000 pieces, unpack my travel bag, dye my hair, go to Yoga… the list goes on.

If you don’t stop, how are you going to be the best version of yourself? How are you going to function when your body shuts down? You are of no use to anyone or yourself if you are not strong and healthy.

If you don’t practice self-care, who is going to do it for you?

GIRLS: The show I want to hate

I don’t know what it is about HBO’s Girls that as much as I don’t want to follow the show, I end up watching it, season after season. Is it just me feeling like this?

Girls started off as a really funny comedy, about some unashamedly spoilt characters with awkward sex lives and undefined yet high ambitions. All of their attempts at growing up seem to be repeatedly sabotaged by the characters themselves. The show seemed to tick every box: fake friendships, ugly breakups, low paid jobs, dodgy internships, and unsurprisingly, some great wardrobes. I never minded Hannah’s (Dunham’s character) repeated nude scenes, even finding them refreshing amongst the daily “perfect” bodies Hollywood throws at us.

Then at the same time, after the first season, I began to grow unsure about the show, even dropping it for a while after that twisted sex scene in season 2, involving Adam and his then girlfriend Natalia.

You can argue that the characters in Girls are pretty shallow, that the lifestyles they represent are impossible in reality. However, you could say the same about Sex & The City and Carrie I-write-one-column-and-live-like-a-celebrity Bradshaw, or many other portraits of life in the Big Apple. You can argue that Lena Dunham is not only overrated, but very well connected through her own family and the families of the other cast members. On season 2 the show seemed to not want to be a comedy anymore by turning pretty dark, whether by raising the debate on sexual abuse or by portraying extremely broken characters. However, as its fourth season began this week, there I was, watching the show, laughing again.

I’m still fascinated by Jessa’s long hair and her natural ability for not giving a sh*t. I still want to see Marnie make half the effort for something, then fail miserably, then let herself be picked up again. I want to see Adam and Hannah together and Shoshana still entertains me with her fast paced monologues.

At the same time, I really hate that it is impossible to live like Jessa and survive in NYC unless you have rich parents. It irks me that Adam can be abusive and how he seems to be excused, being the romantic hero for our heroine. I hate how Hannah’s character takes over the entire show most of the time and that Marnie seems to be the token pretty face with very little else to offer. Shoshana…if there was ever a character that resembled a charicature, that’s Zosia Mamet’s character.

Alas, here I am, writing about the show and waiting impatiently for the next one to be aired. Because Lena Dunham is doing something right, it seems. I just haven’t figured out what it is yet.

Picture: HBO

Swapping Barcelona for the countryside

Almost 5 moths ago, I quit my Barcelona life and moved to the English countryside. I left with many good wishes, paired with several jokey voices warning me to wrap up, kiss the sun goodbye or unwarrantably tell me they could NEVER do it. I was welcomed to East Sussex with plenty of smiles from loved ones, but whenever I encounter someone new, they seemed very puzzled about my decision: “why on Earth would you want to leave Barcelona?” they ask, or simply say  “You left Barcelona for the UK? REALLY?!”

I still don’t know how to answer any of those questions, in a way I’m starting to label them as rhetorical . Although I guess, for the sake of clarity, it’s best if I explain why I left Barcelona in the first place.

While it is a beautiful city with gorgeous architecture, fantastic restaurants, and generally lovely weather, I grew tired of, daily, sharing my personal space with thousands of tourists. I ended up fed up of having to literally push them off me, when, in dozens, they covered the pavements, refusing to budge an inch during their holidays. I became a stressed-out Barcelona citizen, desperately trying to avoid them stepping on your dog, get to work without being pushed to the road and run-over, or arrive home and free yourself from whatever you are carrying. I also developed a distaste for the hordes of pickpockets that exist to torment said tourists or give you an unnecessary fright while you walk home after a night out.

Additionally, I have two dogs. Yes Barcelona is pretty dog-friendly, but it also has extremely busy streets and very few parks, that are either pay-per-visit (Güell), full of tourists (Ciutadella) or populated by policemen that busy themselves fining anyone with a chihuahua off the leash (Parc l’Estació del Nord), instead of aiding the poor lady who just got mugged in broad daylight.

So yes, Barcelona, wonderful at night, gorgeous in the sunshine, even when your sweat is dripping down your back and your landlord has just told you he’s evicting you so he can advertise your flat on Airbnb… it just wasn’t meant to be, and East Sussex called my name.

So here I am.

Yes, I did wrap up as it’s bloody nippy. It took its time, but the cold is finally here, and, unlike Barcelona, it is really, truly, undeniably freezing. There are no hipster, bang-on-trend, pop-up cafes I can walk to, but there are miles and miles of countryside, in which to stroll or run with my dogs, and my thighs have never looked better.

Yes, there is sun…lots of. When you live in the countryside, with few buildings around you and you work from home, you get to see that the sun does shine in England, quite brightly. My sunglasses are, as in Barcelona, always on me.

Additionally, I’m smiling more. It does get dark awfully early, but I get up at 7 am, walk the dogs, do yoga and by the time I’m sat at my desk it’s barely 9am. This gives me many hours and things to do until it’s – oh my God – 5pm and pitch black. Once darkness hits my town, the lack of street lighting means a mind-blowing starry sky shines down on me. It’s surprisingly light up there.

My Zara “working boots” are constantly caked in mud and surprisingly, haven’t broken yet. This means I haven’t completely morphed into countryside folk, donning practical green wellies and proper walking boots – but watch this space.

I love it here, I really do. Yes I miss certain things about Barcelona, such as its people, Daniela, Luli, Mila, the French girls, my editor, my Yoga buddies, and also wonderful places like Lataberna de Juanjo, but that city wasn’t for me. London is a short train ride away, and the city girl inside of me may need to go there occasionally. Brighton is even closer, so hipster cafes are there when I need them.

I still have no answers for those that quiz me on the “absurdity of leaving sunny Spain for the UK”, and I probably will never have a reply that pleases them – for the sake of dinner party amusement I’m working on a funny one. I don’t regret my decision, and I love my current lifestyle. East Sussex works for me, right now. I may never stay here for good, I may go back to Spain, or may even move to Australia. What I know is that I followed my gut instinct and it led me to a happier place. But my gut is mine, so listen to your own and do what you need to do.

Pictures: Fashion Limbo

What no one tells you about friendships

I woke up this morning feeling quite deflated. I made my coffee, fed the dogs, took them for a walk, did some yoga and it wasn’t until I was having my breakfast that I realised why I was in such a foul mood: I had dreamt of a lost friend. 

My sleepy head had recreated a scenario I’ve probably fantasised about more times than I care to admit: seeing her again, seeing her safe and happy. 

K and I were friends for 8 years. We lived together for a short while, we went on holiday together, met our respective families, approved (or not) of each other’s boyfriends. When we lived in different countries, we would travel several times a year to see each other. Then one day, with hardly an explanation, she vanished. She had been acting differently during the months leading up to her disappearance, so when she told me she was “breaking up” with a lot of people she knew, I wondered whether she would do the same about me. She didn’t admit to that, but one day without a goodbye, she stopped writing to me. 

I gave her some space, as others told me she probably needed just that, but then she never contacted me. Maybe I left it too long, maybe she just didn’t want me in her life anymore, but she never responded to my email asking her not to severe ties with me. She never replied to my messages, or the letter I sent to her family home, the only address I have. It’s likely I will never know what happened. It’s been almost 5 years and I still miss her. It still hurts, but I hold no ill feelings: I still love her like a sister.

Life is puzzling like that. You share your time with so many human beings, from those you don’t even remember from your childhood, to those that end up being the Best Man at your wedding.  Some stay for a short while, some even stick with you until the very last day, but a few will do a disappearing act and this can leave you feeling very lost. Not knowing what cause the severing of ties is tough. Sometimes it’s just a case of moving on. Maybe K wanted a new life, one that didn’t include me, and as painful as it can still be at times, I accept that and hope she is extremely happy, wherever she is.

The “tricky” truth about friendships is that having people that love you just for being yourself, is a gift. Life itself, is a gift. It’s really important to slow down and take the time to treasure the precious things that make up our existence, while also accepting that sometimes, the best you can do is to let them go.

Picture: Fashion Limbo

The world needs another Buffy

Buffy The Vampire Slayer was on our television screens from 1997 to 2003. If you’ve never watched it, you are missing out on a show that combined supernatural creatures, with a good sense of humour, heavy doses of irony and clever lines. Most importantly, it had Buffy Summers, the heroine of the show. It’s been 10 years without her, and a decade after she left us, there have been very few Buffys out there. The line: “To each generation a Slayer is born, one girl in all the world, a Chosen One” leaves me asking, where is she now?

I switch on the television and it’s either female characters going through an “emotional breakdown”, or being portrayed like “superbitches” fighting against other women in some sort of man-run popularity competition, equalling the idea of being powerful with wearing impossible high heels and sexy clothing.

Buffy killed the baddies, repeatedly saved the world from its doom, and even better, she had her own flaws. This meant she struggled with her responsibilities as a slayer, got her heart broken more than twice, had no money and ended up working in a fast-food joint, lost loved ones, she  died, came back and fought on. Joss Whedon, the show’s creator, chose to portray a woman that relied on her inner strength and the power of her mind to battle with everything life threw at her. She didn’t care about being covered in blood, mud or having to rip a tight pencil skirt to be able to kick ass.

Joss Whedon is always asked about why his female characters are strong, powerful beings. He responded to this best when he said: “Because you’re still asking me that question”.

It’s no surprise I loved Buffy so much. It’s no coincidence most of the women you ask about the show will tell you they adored almost every episode. Joss Whedon created a character that inspired a generation. And he did it in the realm of adventure fiction, characterised for its deep masculinity and heavy dosages of sexism.

The issue is that no one else seems to want to do like Whedon.

Last year we had the people behind the Tomb Raider franchise,  explaining how Lara Croft seemed to have suffered sexual abuse of some kind. It was all pretty simple for them: men can be born powerful and strong. A woman needs to be broken dow and abused, to be a survivor, to be able to fight.

Female characters in comics are portrayed with huge breasts and unnatural Barbie proportions. The toy-models that are highly sought after and sold amongst collectors, are dressed in clothing so tight you see their nipples, with, you guessed it, breasts bigger than their heads.

In the latest Star Trek movie, a female character had to strip to her underwear and we are still wondering what the point of that scene was and how it affected the narrative.

In the realm of music, teenagers had best-selling pop artist Rihanna premiering her Pour It Up video (for a taste, see video below). It was not shocking, it was not even mildly amusing. It was sad. I’m not going to bore you with the whole Cyrus/Thicke twerking extravaganza.

Oh for Fuck’s sake. via @upperdog: Vogue UK’s idea of women in tech: pic.twitter.com/R1RDivQpQH

— Dara Ó Briain (@daraobriain) December 6, 2013

 

The thing is, Buffy never left us. There are real women behaving like that every day. Malala Yousafzai, Hilary Clinton, Caroline Criado-Perez, Nigella Lawson, that girl that gets wolf-whistled every time she passes the building site, the female MP David Cameron told to “calm down”, the former prime minister in Australia, the lady that was told to stop being emotional, Caitlin Moran, the pop star someone convinced to strip to give her new video some “edge”. Women are powerful, women are strong, naturally.

Buffy is not a fantasy, nor an idealisation of women done by a brilliant mind. She is out there. But we need to celebrate her more, make more movies about her, write about her, without excuses, without reducing her to a male-centered, narrow-minded view. Half of the world still seems to think women are highly emotional, fragile beings that need to be protected. I know this by experience, members of my own family have told me how they don’t worry about me, because I have a male partner that can take care of me.

Truth is… no one takes care of me better than myself. A man doesn’t make me feel whole, it doesn’t give me security. I don’t have breasts the size of pugs and wearing miniskirts or a tight lycra bodice is not what I aspire to when I wake up every day. I’m not sometimes hysterical, I don’t even know what that means.

Women deserve to be represented differently. We don’t need journalists asking Joss Whedon why he creates strong female characters, we need to ask movie directors why they continue to insert a “sexy female interest” in every action film that is made. We need to educate our children to realise that a mutilated female torso covered in blood in a video game is NOT acceptable. We need to teach younger generations that being sexy is nothing compared to the amazing achievements girls the age of Malala can aspire to.

We need to bring Buffy back.

Picture: 20th Century Fox Television. All rights reserved

Reasons not to enjoy Yoga… and how to change that

Yoga is a great way to stay fit, healthy and fight stress. Depending on the type you practise, it can also make you incredibly stronger. However, for many, Yoga is that discipline that never seems to “click”. The first time I practised Yoga – more than 7 years ago – I wasn’t hooked, and although I knew it was good for me, I never really enjoyed it that much. Until a couple of years ago, when I found a great teacher, a fun class and my mind was blown. It’s not down to a single factor, but a few that could be stopping you from enjoying Yoga the way it’s meant to be:

1- Caring about what everyone else is doing: whether it’s your studio peeps, or your Instagram newsfeed, checking out what others are doing can be counter-productive. Yoga is about forgetting about everything around you, for a good reason: it helps you focus and release tension. Paying attention to who’s around you will very likely make you wonder about what you “should be doing”. I was terrible at looking around me, whether it was to gawp at the scary see-through leggings in front of me, or to see who could do what I couldn’t. It took some practice, but once I stopped caring about what happened around me, I began focusing on my breathing, my body and my mind, becoming better at Yoga.

2- Forcing your poses: we are all designed differently, with different levels of flexibility, strength, longer or shorter limbs. Certain asanas -poses- work great for some, but forcing yourself to bend backwards when your back is saying “no”, will only result in injury. If a pose doesn’t feel right, if your face is tensing or if you feel pain during and/or after practicing, there may be an asana – or two, to three – that needs to leave your practice, and that is OK. There are also no perfect ways of doing a pose – no matter who has told you otherwise, they are wrong – Your downward-facing dog may require you to keep your knees bent. That is also OK.

3- Forcing your evolution: during my first months practicing Yoga I became frustrated when I saw no improvement in my flexibility levels. Being impatient did me no good, I became frustrated, and sometimes left my class feeling like a useless broken doll. I lacked patience. I had to keep working, without expecting my body to change, even accepting some things may never happen for me, like the splits. Accepting that my body may not be designed to flex that way, gave me a sense of relief, and whenever I look like a broken doll – meaning I’m a sweaty mess on the mat – I laugh it off.  

4- Not taking it seriously: I’m the first one to make fun of myself, when teaching and when practicing. However, a fantastic yoga teacher once asked me whether I didn’t take my practice seriously because I didn’t believe in myself. Being serious about Yoga is not about ceasing to smile. It means when I do it alone at home, I take the time to create the atmosphere, to light candles, to make it a real treat. In a studio, taking it seriously means believing your practice will be good for you. It means you will stick to it instead of thinking “oh, but I suck at it, so I might as well not go today”. Respect yourself enough to see your practice as something great, that you deserve 100%.

5 – Doing the wrong type of Yoga: there are so many ways of doing Yoga, with music, without, in a hot room, outdoors, with blocks, with movement, without… the list is endless. I plan to write about this further, but it may be that the kind of Yoga you tried was too focused on meditation, when what you required was something more active, or the other way around. Yoga practices can differ so much from one another, it really is worth checking out several studios in your town.

6 – Sticking to the wrong teacher: there are many good Yoga professionals, there are even more that are bad. More than the style of yoga, it really is up to liking your teacher. If you have fun with whoever is in charge of the practice, you will have fun during it. It’s a lot to do with chemistry, if you teacher doesn’t get you, then it’s time to move on.

And finally, it’s all about timing: sometimes it’s not your day, week, month, or even year, so if you are wondering why you are struggling so much, it may be that it’s not the right time in your life to practice with a certain regularity. Let go, give yourself time, space, and come back to Yoga whenever you want to. 

Want to be sexy? Say you’re a feminist

Feminism is quite a controversial word. It caused social unrest decades ago when, in the name of it, women fought the system . Today, using the term on social media will likely mean you will lose some followers, be insulted or mocked, or even have people send you rape and death threats. Fronting any campaign on the subject will also attract the same sort of vile reaction, just read the news. Type the word “feminism” on Twitter or Google and you quickly get suggested search terms such as “Feminism is Awful”. If you type “feminists”, the term appears followed by “are ugly”.

There is one absolute truth about feminism: the belief in the equality of the sexes. The lovely Emma Watson raised the subject again recently, at a UN conference, in the name of He For She, a campaign aimed at getting men involved in feminism. Why? Because equal rights affect both genders, because fighting for human rights denied to millions of human beings due to their sex, is something men should care about too.

Plus…

A male feminist is sexy. 

If you are a guy, and say something along the lines of “I’m a feminist”, women will adore you. We will, that’s absolutely, 100 percent true. Have you seen the reactions these men are getting over social media? Ovaries are exploding. Caitlin Moran says it best: 

We will throw flowers at you, we will tell our friends how unbelievably attractive you are, we will adore the ground you walk on. Because we love guys like you. Because the world needs more men like you.

Every time your mother, your sister, your best friend is paid less money at work for doing the exact same job as a man… we need men like you.

Every time your mother, your sister, your best friend gets denied the right to decide what to do with her body and her life by a group of men with way too much power… we need guys like you.

Every time your daughter gets a job as a copywriter/mathematician/lawyer but instead is made to serve coffees to her male counterparts and complimented not on her skills but on her skirt … we need men like you.

Every time your daughter is told to cover up because she may bring rape on herself by showing her legs… we need men like you.

Feminism is necessary for me as a woman, for your mother, your sister, your niece, your best friend, your daughter.

Tom Hiddleston, Simon Pegg and every guy tweeting in the name of He For She, declaring themselves feminists, I salute you, you sexy beasts.

Pictures: Fashion Limbo, an excerpt of Caitlin Moran’s How To Be A Woman, Tom Hiddleston Twitter

The complexity behind the smile

I don’t know what it is… but working in the creative arts often comes at a price. Whether it’s deep-seeded insomnia from an over-working mind, panic attacks stemming from insecurities, or months spent paralysed fearing failure or God knows what. Actors have it, writers have it, musicians suffer from it. Even comedians fail at “laughing off” such demons.

I once met a guy who was great at making everyone around him smile. He wasn’t a close friend of mine, but I know he was a devoted husband and a loving father. What made him take his life no one will ever know, but what is certain is that it was no easy choice, or a quick way out. It was something that came from desperation.

A few years back I remember admiring Alexander McQueen’s work, thinking of him as a national treasure, someone that added to Britain’s creative greatness. He too, took his own life. I remember telling my boss at the time about the sad news, to which she replied “What a selfish thing to do. I have no respect for anyone that commits suicide”. Back then, I lacked the words and courage to jeopardise my job and tell her how shallow and mistaken her words were.

Two weeks ago, I opened my eyes to a very cold bedroom. Instead of braving it and jumping out of bed, I stayed under the duvet for a short while. While I don’t like to check any social media or emails first thing in the morning, I chose to look at my Instagram, and the third picture I saw was one of Robin Williams, a fan lamenting his death. I felt a sudden pain in my chest, and got out of bed.

I never met Robin Williams, but his work, especially his stand-up comedy routines, hold a very special place in my heart. They remind me of a beautiful time of my life when I fell in love with a man and everything that was connected to him. Some of Williams’ films take me back to my childhood, afternoons at the cinema, with sugary gum sweets that stuck to my fingers. 

As I said, I never made his acquaintance, but that morning, after hearing the news of his passing I found it hard to stop crying. I still well up when I see any of the beautiful tributes that have popped up over the last days. 

We will never really know all of the reasons, everything that troubled him, the facts that had him turn to suicide. He was incredibly talented and it is no secret that a lot of his comedy was propelled as some sort of automatic response to cover his own demons. 

I never knew him, but I know he was a wonderful man, just like many more that we lose to suicide, that fall victims of depression. Emotional issues don’t come from a lack of intelligence, like I was once told. I’ve heard “get over it” way too many times. While it can be difficult to find the “right” things to say, there are also many wrong things to say. No one seeks to suffer this much, it’s not a conscious, or selfish choice.

Sometimes it’s not the circumstances you live, or things you can change. Sometimes it’s rooted deep within. Sometimes it comes with being so connected to your emotions, that you can be a comedian, or write, draw, perform, create things with such intensity, they touch strangers, hundreds of thousands of miles away.

I really don’t know what it is…

What I do know is that after his death, Robin Williams continues to live. His contribution to this world is too great, too beautiful and too powerful to simply disappear.

The ultimate fashion tip

If there is one tip that I find actually works, and that can be applied to states of stress, depression, sickness, nervousness, moments in which everything surpasses me, it’s to make the effort to look good. Whether by styling my crazy hair, getting out of the pyjama bottoms – I could live in them – or applying some make-up. It works.

It’s about feeling good about myself, whenever I catch my reflection in the mirror or on a shop window. If I look good, I have something less to fret about, adding ease of mind and helping me feel better. Think about the opposite: if I do nothing, go out without washing my face or choose the beaten up old pair of yoga trousers to dress for the post office, it’s
very likely I will soon regret not having made a slight effort.
Why give myself the extra worry? It can take less than five minutes. These are my rules:

1 – Regarding make up, bucket loads are not required. Maybe mascara and some lipgloss, or just some foundation and a light blush. Personally, I feel made up with just some brown eyeliner, concealer to cover some dodgy areas and lip balm.

2 – Never underestimate the power of a nice fragrance. It’s been scientifically proven – that’s “Jess talk” for I read it somewhere – that people wearing perfume feel better about themselves. I love refreshing body sprays, no fuss and quick to apply after a nice shower.

3 – Invest in some nice loungewear, or ask for it on your next birthday. It’s not the same to walk around the house in your pyjamas – which is absolutely fine to do once a week, with a tub of ice cream, and The Good Wife on repeat -, than to do so with some nice-fitting cotton trousers and a flattering top. This applies especially if you work from home. It’s just too tempting to make no effort, and speaking by experience, it eventually will make you feel pretty miserable.

If it works for me, it can work for you. Whatever you are going through, whatever is making you curse your life at the moment, you deserve to feel better, you deserve to be happy about the way you look. You deserve to smile. Never forget about yourself.

Picture: Fashion Limbo

13 random facts about me

At the risk of fuelling the ego-centric side of blogging, this post is actually a good exercise in writing – and something I should do more often. Without rambling further about the reasons behind this, here goes:

1 – I used to practise judo. I did five years of it, took part in a competition once and won a gold medal. I quit at the age of 11 to join the school choir.

2- I speak French. I learnt on the go while working for a high-end fashion brand in Brussels. I also ended up picking up some words in Dutch – although my “conversations” in this language mostly involved nodding and smiling repeatedly.

3- I’ve been a music junkie since my childhood which can make playing Buzzer with me slightly annoying. Ask me what kind of music I like and I break out in a sweat…I wouldn’t know where to begin.

4 – I always try to get rid of insects by – gently- throwing them out of the window. If I am forced to kill one, I always apologise to the poor creature.

5 – I’m a wannabe vegetarian. It’s more about ethics than dietary preferences. Living with someone who enjoys eating meat, paired with my low budget makes it very difficult for me to become a full-time vegetarian, but I do try to eat as little meat as possible.

6 – I spent most of my childhood in southern Spain, and after years of not being able to dance flamenco at parties, in my late teens I asked my friends to teach me. I only mastered a type of dance, called sevillanas, but became quite good at it.

7 – When I was 7, I asked a nun whether my dod would go to heaven after he died. She told me he wouldn’t, as beasts weren’t allowed into heaven. That’s the day I began questioning the Catholic Church.

8 – My favourite film is Drive. The soundtrack gives me goosebumps.

9 – I’m a bit of a nerd when it comes finding information online. It takes me seconds to make connections and go from one subject to the next. I am not sure what I can do with this skill, but it has become very useful to those closest to me.

10 – Although I can seem be very sociable, I’m actually an introvert. I lost my best friend a few years ago, and due to other events in my life, it takes me a while to trust people. I also don’t like to talk about my personal life to people I don’t know much.

11 – While I don’t read comics, I’m pretty well versed in the Marvel universe. This is thanks to my older brother brainwashing me as a child with the likes of Spiderman and X-Men. I gleefully devour any films on the subject of superheroes.

12 – I once lent my vocals to three songs by a pair of Belgian producers. I spent hours in a recording studio, and although I enjoyed the experience, I am happy to say this songs have been lost, especially a – very strange – dance track I recorded.

13 – I have tattoos in three different parts of my body. One on my left shoulder, a few small ones on my ribs, and the most recent one on my right foot.

And that’s it… feel free to share any random facts about yourself below. xx