Washing Machine Syndrome 

Hi all,

Look at me, I’m on a roll, must be becoming a proper blogger now.

Today, we will be delving into my very limited dating experience, practically non-existant.

Here’s some context.

When I was younger, I used to read the Confessions of Georgia Nicolson by Louise Rennison. This is my first introduction to the world of boys being at a girls school. In the first book, you meet Peter Dyer, kissing extradordinaire, who tells Georgia to avoid “Washing Machine Syndrome”. Basically it’s all tongue and salvia in your mouth.

Not very appealing, and I was pretty much adamant I never was going to experience that.

I was wrong.
After a few weeks of me attempting flirting, to be known to my friends as nan flirting (abysmal to say the least), we decided to go out with a group of friends.

The night began in an aeroplane theme cocktail bar (The LP Bar – go check it out!). As the drinks racked up so did our minimal confidence. We walked over to the next destination of the night, there was a live DJ set in the pub across the road. A few more drinks down, we started to get closer to each other, there was only one person in between when dancing!

Gold Digger by Kanye West came on, and this is when we started singing in each others faces and stayed that close for the rest of the evening. Me and a couple of girls then went in toilets to psyche me up.

“He’s so into you!”

“Devs you’ve got to kiss him!”

I have a few rules when it comes to boys:

  1. The boy can’t be shorter than you.
  2. They have to make the first move.

Just to name a couple. As you can see, I’m not for equality in romance, I hate making any sort of move. That’s more to my socially awkwardness and the fact I hate rejection. So in my head I decided that he had to be the one to do anything.

Throughout the night, he began pulling me in and holding my hand whilst dancing (thank God for Red Stripe). Brilliant. He started making his move. But then he started pecking me on the cheek, forehead, nose…it seemed everywhere but my lips.

At this point, I became inpatient, was there something wrong with my lips? No. I made a bold decision, I was going to go in for a proper kiss. In the middle of the dance floor.

It happened.

I experienced the washing machine, all tongue and salvia in my mouth, all I could think of at this moment in time was Peter Dyer. It wasn’t very pleasant for me. I was to polite to tell him. He led me outside to the smoking area. My lady friends were giving me thumbs up, little did they know.

We kissed twice more. Good Lord.

Luckily, the lead singer of Foals came from the terrace area and my tonsil tennis companion freed himself from my mouth. Thank God, he was more interested in Yannis Philippakis.

So there we have it. Maybe there will be more stories to tell, otherwise I will have to become a crazy cat lady.

Ciao for now,

Devs xo

DISCLAIMER: I would like to point out that I am still currently friends with said boy (until he reads this).


The Wedding

Hi again,

A second post within two weeks! Bet you’re pretty chuffed about that. 

I come with the great news that the second TEEFY GRINS podcast is up on soundcloud so have a listen.

This particular episode is about my maticulously planned wedding. I’m not a lunatic. Honestly. It’s all explained in the podcast. 

You’ll even find out the story behind this picture. Win win for everyone. 

Ciao for now,

Devs xo

Podcast..say what?!

Hello there,

You may know I like to post things on the regular basis and quite promptly too (or not as the case may be).

What’s this? A few weeks ago me and my friend Josie (Teefy Grins – go check her out) have made podcast. Finally you will be able to hear how beautiful my voice actually sounds.


This first episode is where you will find out all about us, and Josie’s love of popular Irish boyband member Ronan Keating.

So keep your ears open (see what I did there) for the second episode coming immanently – sorry for the lateness of this post! Regardless enjoy it!

Ciao for now,

Devs xo

P.S: Here’s some more cheeky pics of the stars of the podcast, so you can really see the visuals of our friendship…

A Million Pricks…

Oh Hi..

Turns out it’s been a while since I last spoke to you. Don’t be alarmed! (Doubt that anyone I, but inflating my ego is a non-stop job)

Let’s have a story, find out about a little more about a girl named Becky. Why don’t we travel back in time to the very late 90’s, where the Spice Girls had lost Geri (forever in my heart #girlpower).

It was late summer, and my Mum, Sister and I was visiting my Aunt and Cousins in Greenwich BRAPP. My mum and aunt had dragged us lovely children along the high street where they came across a florist (yay, what every five year old wants and needs on a summers day!). Obviously, little miss sassy pants decided that this wasn’t really her thing and thought the best idea was to walk out of the florist and practice musical number outside, right by the main road.

Thus began.. CACTI GATE

What is cacti gate, you may ask? Well let me tell you what happened on this fateful day.

After a practically flawless routine, I lost my footing, and fell backwards, it felt like slow motion. Unluckily, I had something to catch my fall, crates of cacti. Imagine about five or so of those.Cacti Crate

Unfortunately, being the young girl that I was, I had no muscles in my legs to lift myself back up (still lacking in that department), so the only thing I could do was to proceed to turn onto my front, whilst still in the mist of the cacti crate.

When I finally managed to get up, I ran into the Florist. I called my Mum and Aunt, to which they told me to shut up! My Sister and Cousins began to laugh at me (nothing new there). At this point, my Mum and Aunt decided to turn around and saw the injured child before them. They finally apologised and carried me back to my Aunt’s for my de-pricking.

There we go, I brought you some laughs to you on this delightful Monday night. I won’t leave it so long next time..

Ciao for now,

Devs xo




Career Crossroads

Ever since I was very young I wanted to be a History teacher. Due to circumstances, I didn’t get the grades needed to get into university. So I was stuck with not knowing what I wanted to do. At the time, after my A Levels, I was working part-time in a local pharmacy, which led to me getting a full-time role in a hospital pharmacy. After eighteen months, the job became mundane, doing the same thing day in day out; I began looking for jobs elsewhere. Whilst at the hospital, I found out that I could undertake a degree from home; bringing me a step closer to the dream of teaching. I began looking for jobs in schools and I finally found one as cover supervisor in a secondary school. I remember walking in on my first day, feeling like I had got it right….or so I thought.

After fifteen months, I had to call it quits. It was a crushing feeling, finding out the job I had spent my whole life wanting to do, wasn’t for me at this moment in time. At twenty two years old, I am none the wiser about what I want to do. I am scared. I have gone back to pharmacy, but I know my heart is not in it.

I recently found a piece of work I did in year nine aged thirteen, saying what I would like to be doing in ten years. So at my age now, my thirteen year old self said, ‘In a job that I love, married with a child on the way.’ WOW. Clearly, there was a reason as to why my A Levels didn’t go too well. Just so you all know – I have not achieved any of the above. There comes a time in a woman’s (very loose term there, I assure you!) life where she has to admit defeat. Today is my day.

If anyone could give any suggestions as to what I could do, please do. I need all the help I can get.

Much love, Devs x

Owl Brows

I had a condition that used to effect me everyday of my life..OWL brows. What is this strange thing, you speak of Devs? Well, I will tell you. An owl brow is an eye brow that would normally seen on a feathered creature also known as an owl. If it were in a dictionary there would a picture of me in Year 9 wearing an obscure hat, with full focus on the owl brows…oh wait.


As you can see it is very unnerving.

However, as I got older I tried to find new ways to conceal this foreign object that happens to be on my face, for instance, plucking it all off seemed a viable option. Exhibit A..


I mean, there’s good and bad here. Good – no sign of owl brow in sight. Bad – I am missing 35% of eyebrow. All in all,  not a particularly flattering look, but it took me on the path to find a perfect brow. This is hella not spon BUT thank the lord for the Benefit Brow Bar, after years and years and years of searching, I have finally have something that has put my owl brows to rest. I can show my owls to the world without fear of judgement, with my eye brow expert saying, ‘Wow, that is a good brow.’

Fit Brows.jpg

RIP Owl Brow.