It’s been nearly a year since I moved out of my old flat in Newcastle, and there are only two things I miss: the huge corner bathtub and the tumble dryer.
I can make do with the smaller bath, but the lack of a tumble dryer is something I still haven’t adjusted to. The flat is pretty cramped so there isn’t really anywhere to put one, which means we’re resigned to drying laundry on the radiators or on the heated clothes rack in the kitchen. A heated clothes rack sounds like a great idea but in fact it takes forever to dry anything, as I keep finding out when I go to get clean underwear in the morning and everything on the dryer is still damp. It’s a good thing I don’t mind going out in not-quite-dry underwear, that’s all I can say. I don’t know how “normal” people manage. » Read more
I took this photo yesterday, a crisp but bitterly cold January morning. Walking along by the river, I thought about a comment someone had left on my blog, about how he was in the habit of getting wet in lakes or rivers whenever he felt like it, and how I should just do the same. Obviously he’d never been to Musselburgh. If I’d gone in the river yesterday I don’t think I’d have made it back to the car without freezing solid. But it seems that the idea stayed in my subconscious. Let me tell you about the dream I had last night, which I promise is 100% true and not made up for click bait… » Read more
Hi guys! So, if you’ve been following my other blog Hannah’s Braindump you’ll be aware that I had some sad news about one of my old university friends last week. I wrote a long blog post about him and the time we spent the night together, but then decided it wasn’t the right time to post all the intimate details. You can read the whole thing on Patreon or sanitised version on Braindump, but the tl;dr of it is that we were really close friends but both too shy to make a move, until I eventually did and then he took a job in Australia and I never saw him again.
So you’ll understand that I wasn’t really in the mood to celebrate my birthday last Friday. Instead of wild partying I spent the day at home, curled up on the sofa with Barry the cat, watching old TV shows. My flatmate Gabi, though, had other ideas. I was enjoying my quiet, uneventful evening when she came crashing in with a box of wine and two huge takeaway pizzas. “Did somebody order a birthday?” » Read more
Since I stuck my head (complete with running make-up and plastered down hair) above the parapet a couple of weeks ago I’ve had conversations with lots of interesting people (and a couple of dullards, ha ha) about the wetlook fetish and our varying experiences. It surprised me to discover that a significant number of us have very similar stories to tell about how we discovered the joy of wet clothes, and that many of us knew from a very young age – even before we knew anything about sex – that there was something special going on. I’ve also spent a lot of time answering the same questions from dozens of different people, so instead of repeating myself ad infinitum in private messages, I decided it would be better to write properly detailed accounts of my wet experiences. With that in mind, here’s part one of “How Hannah Discovered She Was A Weirdo Who Enjoyed Getting Her Clothes All Soaking Wet”. Catchy title, don’t you think? » Read more