New Podcast! Episode 6: Iain Christie

Latest episode of my '5 Things I Learned' podcast is available now.

My guest this week is the co-host of Radio City Talk's 'Dad's Hour' (and father of two) Iain Christie.

Download and subscribe on iTunes https:// , Stitcher Podbean

Sam x

Comments

belita said…

I've said this many times before, Ferragamo bags deserve more love than they tend to receive. Don't get me wrong, whenever I talk about Ferragamo most of you share the mutual love, but the subdued elegance of the brand sometimes leaves the bags a little under the radar. Recently, Salvatore Ferragamo celebrated the reopening of cheap oakley sunglasses its Paris boutique on Avenue Montaigne with a new bag. The Salvatore Ferragamo Lock Story Paris Bag is an exclusive, special edition bag that comes in two color-ways. The bag plays homage to the Italian Artesan and his relationship with art by featuring bullseye embroidery detail on the bags. The bullseye detail isn't new to Ferragamo, it was first toms sko norge included in 1958 on a pair of shoes created by Salvatore Ferragamo himself. The rest of the bag is quite modern for Ferragamo, and I love it. A thin viscose fiber is basket-woven to become the main backdrop of the bag which adds a very rich texture because. The rest of the bag features supple calfskin leather finishings and the iconic Gancio lock. As this bag is limited edition, each replica ray ban will have numbered inner plate. I adore the unexpected design from Ferragamo. I'm used to styles like the Fiamma, which I seriously adore, and having something that feels different is always alluring. This bag is modern, fun, and sassy. I could see it easily pairing with your cheap juicy couture go-to denim and simple top or being dressed up for an evening out. This style is exclusive to the Paris store and retails for $179, so if you don't live in Paris, it's time to take a trip!

30 July 2016 at 07:03

The Time I Screamed at my Kids

Before my kids arrived I swore I’d never shout at them. But choosing how to approach parenthood before your kids are born is like a caterpillar deciding what kind of butterfly they’re gonna be while they’re still building the cocoon. ‘I’ll still do loads of charity work, of course. And I’ll be REALLY nice to moths too, even though they’ll probably hate me because I’ll be so bloody gorgeous.’ Theory and reality are like sugar and shit. I’ve raised my voice to my kids more times than I can count. Often just to shout ‘STOP SHOUTING!’ which I’m aware doesn’t set a great example. ‘You should NEVER shout at your kids.’ And that’s fine. In theory. Because everything’s fine in theory. The Slimfast diet is a piece of piss until day two when you’ve had three hours sleep and someone offers you a Wagon Wheel. Of course, I never WANT to shout at them. I love them more than words can describe. But those you love are also the ones blessed with the innate ability to boil your piss q

The Time I Smeared Shit on the Duvet

My wife and I developed our parenting systems through trial and error. One of the earliest rules we’d introduced was that if it was after 5am and one of the babies became unsettled, we wouldn’t waste our time trying to get them back down in their cot - we’d just bring them in with us. After a nice cuddle in our bed, they’d normally settle back down, barring the occasional impromptu fanny gouge or affable bollock kick. (Babies are the most violent sleepers on the planet, easily capable of committing GBH in the middle of reaching for their dummy.) Our twins were six months old. I was fast asleep. At least, the deepest sleep you can get once your kids arrive. My pre-kids sleep used to be the nocturnal equivalent of deep sea diving. Nowadays I’m lucky if I can submerge my toes in a puddle. Early on, my sleep was lighter than a Ryvita biscuit who’d been having it off with a helium canister they’d met on Tinder. Everything woke me up. Some nights I’d just lie there, bewi

The Time I Got Sent to the Naughty Step

The naughty step is only as powerful as the child allows it to be. I once sent my son there and 20 seconds later he came racing through the living room on his fucking bike. I briefly tried to return him to his pleasantly carpeted penitentiary but I was far too busy giggling. On another occasion, my lad wouldn’t go to bed and instead plonked himself down on the bottom of the stairs in defiance. I started to threaten him with a trip to the dreaded step of naughtiness. ‘IF YOU DON’T GET TO BED RIGHT NOW, I’ll, erm….’ I tailed off as I realised he was already sitting on the effing naughty step and my threat now made less sense than Welsh hip-hop. I could see on his little face, he’d worked this out too. He threw me a smirk that said, ‘You’ll do what, knobhead?’ I felt it crucial not to back down. So I continued: ‘I’LL PUT YOU ON THE NAUGHTY STEP, YOUNG MAN!’ ‘But I’m already on it!’ he snorted. My brain turned to scrambled egg. ‘WELL THEN!’ I had nothing. Bu

Sam Avery

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