Louise O'Neill: The most self-indulgent column I’ve ever written

This is probably going to be the most self-indulgent column I’ve ever written so avert your eyes now if me behaving like Paris Hilton circa 2003 — miniature dog in oversized designer handbag not included — is going to offend your delicate sensibilities.

Louise O'Neill: The most self-indulgent column I’ve ever written

This is probably going to be the most self-indulgent column I’ve ever written so avert your eyes now if me behaving like Paris Hilton circa 2003 — miniature dog in oversized designer handbag not included — is going to offend your delicate sensibilities.

I’ve had a busy year, with the whole “two books published and the premiere of a stage adaptation within a four-month period” thing, and so I’ve spent an inordinate amount of time in hotel rooms. This sounds much more glamorous in theory than it does in practice, particularly given my anti-social hermit tendencies.

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