Oops

I didn't do a very good job of keeping this blog up-to-date in 2015. In fact, it could be reasonably argued that I did an atrocious job, since I posted only once, on January 1st.

Dear Readers, I hereby vow to do better this year. I'm going to be using this blog to write about my experiences in the U.S.A (I live here now, by the way) and share news about projects and events (there's a link on the right if you'd like to find out about events I have coming up) - you can still follow my weekly cartoons over at GoComics and my comics, illustration and products on Tumblr and Facebook.

Hourly Comic Day

I'm attempting to do Hourly Comic Day today, although I'm mostly just sitting at my desk, so not sure how interesting the rest of the day is going to be. Oh well. Follow along on Twitter, if you like. I'll upload all of them to Flickr, too.Update - they're all on Flickr and on my Diaries blog.

various search terms that have led people to this blog

"help i forgot my comb"
"brr! it's cold"
"happy birthday ryan pug"
"drunken snow"
"yyyou"
"what happens when your pug sleeps" (He snores a lot)
"book with puns not funny" *
"didn't i try not to with my cat?" (I don't know. Didn't you?)

* speaking of which - It's A Punderful Life comes out next month!

The Scottish Angel

As you may or may not know, I grew up in the strikingly unlovely town of Ipswich in Suffolk. I attended a Church-run Primary School, where our uniform involved berets (for the girls) and shorts ALL YEAR ROUND for the boys. Our annual Christmas Nativity followed a familiar, time-tested pattern. The pretty blonde girls were the angels. The popular kids played Mary and Joseph. The boys who owned the snazziest dressing gowns got to be Shepherds.

Those of us with huge plastic specs and practical bowl cuts, and spacial awareness issues, were generally relegated to the stable to play donkeys, sheep and the other barnyard animals of the Christmas story. It was ever thus. I dreamed of one day being cast as Mary, but I would have settled for an Angel, too.

my artistic process

Sometimes, If I'm feeling particularly saucy, I'll replace "cats" with "pugs".

Coffee: A Love Letter

 

I have spent today sick in bed with some kind of flu which I can only assume is due to the terrible weather. (It was 4 degrees this morning! FOUR! It's nearly June!) So I took the opportunity to do a bit of writing. So here it is, my ode to the delicious bean juice that is coffee. It's not perfect, but like any former Girl Guide, I did my best... Enjoy!

I do not remember the taste of my first ever cup of coffee, but I do remember spilling most of it down the front of my Space (remember them?) 1998 UK tour T-shirt. Perhaps not the most auspicious beginning for a serious relationship that has continued now for over a decade, but as somebody who spilled, and continues to spill, things on herself on a fairly regular basis, nothing to actively discourage me on my path to caffeine addiction.

I had decided, at the tender age of thirteen, slumped on the sofa watching my Il Postino video for the tenth time, to become Italian. Being Italian, as far as I could tell, really just involved eating pizza and pasta and drinking a lot of coffee. Now, this was something that I could do. OK, I conceded, Italians probably didn’t drink Nescafé Gold Blend from a mug shaped like Winnie the Pooh’s head, but I was working with what I had available to me at the time. Plus, I really liked Pizza.