Author: Metropolitan Mum

Lattemamma

My friend Julia recently introduced me to the term Lattemamma – the Swedish, slightly more PC translation for Yummy Mummy. Think cafes on Östermalm (Stockholm’s very own South Ken), German estate cars and children called Apple or Moses. I only score one out of three, but I found the term very appropriate nevertheless.

Portobello Road – a new found love

My very first and very fond memories of London are firmly rooted in W10 and the little, scruffy area underneath the concrete flyover at its southern bottom. Despite the fact that my actual first visit to London hadn’t included a trip to Portobello Market (but a stay at the posh Covent Garden Hotel) and that […]

Where to live. Round #2

Last weekend we made a trip to Chichester to grab a bun and a coffee at the Goodwood Breakfast Club. Big M loves vintage cars, thus we made the most of spending a few days in the country whilst being surrounded by old time’s glory in the form of polished chrome and shiny chassis. Being […]

About the book. Or: being high and low

I think I have never been as ecstatically excited and terribly terrified about one thing at the same time. “Project Book” is moving along rather nicely. Characters in place, plot divided into 30 chapters; set up, major disasters and ending defined. It should take me less than a day to finalise the outlining process and […]

Feeling ratherish in the tail department

If the airplane machine head flies heading up excessively, please ratherish get down the airplan tail department press. If the airplane flies the opportune moment head gets down to wash, please ratherish heading up the airplane tail department lift. Must drink less. Must drink less. Must drink less.

Bad hair days. Or: a holey summer

I am loathing August in London. I always did. Firstly, whilst the rest of Europe enjoys the peak of summer in skimpy dresses and open toe sandals, I usually catch a cold as I desperately hang on to wearing my only recently acquired summer wardrobe. Thanks to London’s August being what would be classified as […]

My dirty little secret

It all started rather harmless. When my friend Monique* handed me a tattered, pink paperback, I was a tad bit surprised by the cover. The photograph of a girl and a boy in a tight embrace, apparently joyful smooching away, made my cheeks burn with embarrassment. And desire. Desire to open the book and plunge […]