IT’S just days away from our beach holiday — the one where I will drive 800 miles to a campsite in the south of France with two kids in the back chorusing “are we there yet” — but all I keep hearing about is how I should be worried about my “bikini body”.

EVERY baby is born the same — squalling, bloody, scrunched up, a few fragile pounds of infinite need and life-changing feelings for the boggle-eyed new parents.

YOU always hear about gardens being places of sanctuary.

IN DUBLIN to promote my book, the taxi drops me at a Georgian house-hotel next to the Dáil.

THERE are so many things about modern living that could induce constant rage if you let them.

I AM at a photo shoot in London for a big media feature on my book, which is out this week.

IF a springer spaniel runs at you full tilt barking its head off, you think, awww look, the doggie wants to play.

WHEN does FYI become TMI?

ACCORDING to research that I can’t be bothered to find, never mind verify, if you’re not on Facebook you’re a psychopath.

THERE’S a saying in the recovery community — that is, the ex-drunks and ex-drug fiends who walk among us — to watch out for bunny rabbits.