Kirsty Blake Knox: The curious case of my recurring ex-pest
Kirsty at large ...
My creepy ex-boyfriend won't stop sending me emails.
The most recent one made me want to go home and take a Silkwood-style shower.
These emails are sporadic enough not to be classed as harassment but frequent enough to give me the heebie-jeebies.
We dated for a four months a few years ago. So you can probably understand my fatigue.
I don't understand this type of person - the reccurring 'ex-pest' who calls or texts you to "check in" and make sure everything's okay.
Just act normal, for goodness sake, and Facebook/Instagram stalk people.
That is what social media is for - a safe place where you can keep tabs on the people you used to have sex with, without looking like a complete weirdo.
You'll know about their ongoing frustration with Dublin Bus real-time displays and Deliveroo drivers, and about their #LadsLadsLads holiday to Puerto Banús, and console yourself the break up was actually a very good thing.
The only downside is falling into a social media wormhole which can last hours - before you know, it is 3am and you're looking through pictures of your ex's younger brother's debs date circa 2010. Which is a place you definitely don't want to be.
But even that is preferable to pestering someone IRL.
This email business is making me reassess the whole act of breaking up.
Everyone is quick to praise the softly, softly approach but perhaps there is a plus side to a really horrible mangled mess of a split.
I'm not advocating emotionally scarring someone. Or smashing their heart/ windscreen of their car.
More making yourself so utterly unappealing in the final stages of your relationship they will never reach out or contact you ever again.
So here are some suggestions to ensure someone will be delighted to leave you and never look back.
* Start referring to yourself in the third person when you have sex.
* Correct people's grammar. Talk at length about your love of the Oxford comma.
* Tell them you don't get "the fuss" about dogs.
* Give celibacy a whirl.
* Take an ethical stand point and refuse to wash for a month. Or longer.
* Do a TEFL course.
* Talk in a baby voice when introduced to their friends/ colleagues/ parents.
* Become a Satanist.
* Become a travelling poet.
* Go full-blown Jim Corr and link everything back to the Illuminati.
* As a "cute surprise" bedazzle every item of clothing they own.
* Start conversations with "Well, my psychic told me..."
* Play music on your iPhone while on public transport.
* Insist on splitting all bills down to the very last cent. Always use a calculator and feel free to invoice people.
Are supermarkets going completely off their trolleys?
Another fall out of Brexit? Or an example of consumerism eating itself?
This week, UK supermarket giant Waitrose announced that the end of the Big Shop is nigh.
Reporting on the findings, the Daily Mail lamented that, as a consequence, "Jumbo shopping trolleys now also face extinction".
(Posing the question; what are students going to steal from car parks and chuck in canals now?)
The survey stated that times have a-changed, and rather than spending hours on a Saturday morning wandering about fluorescent-lit aisles, consumers are more likely to duck into Dunnes on the way home for "a few bits". We are, I'm told, treating supermarkets "like giant walk-in fridges" as we try to cut down on food waste.
So it's all for a good cause. But the fading out of the Big Shop does make me sad, and not just because I like saying 'The Big Shop' in an abrasive Northern Irish accent.
It's because there are many 'Big Shap' traditions I enjoy.
Namely fleecing free stuff - samples provided by helpful staff and grapes you can swipe for yourself.
The Big Shop is also a leisurely affair and gives me ample time to think affectionately about Dale Winton (inset) - a man I would definitely like to see more of on my TV screen - and the genius that was Supermarket Sweep. And I can study all the discount versions of popular products like own-brand vodkas, or Aldi's Harvest Morn Crunchy Honey Nut Cornflakes which are entirely different to Kellogg's Crunchy Nut Cornflakes.
Plus, it's a great place to meet people; my mum once ran into Bláthnaid Ní Chofaigh in Superquinn's detergent aisle while Bláthnaid was in labour. (She wanted to have the house fully stocked before going to hospital).
And then there is the fun of secretly judging what other people have in their trolleys.
I hope that none of that disappears when we replace the Big Shop with the Slightly Smaller But More Frequent Shop (name needs work).
Still it's not all bad news, the report also shows that much-loved festive special - The Big Christmas Shop -shows no sign of slowing down.
We've still got that to look forward to.
Back on sale in the revamped Bewley's. Yay!
Think Cher Horowitz.
Prue's bake off blunder caused the finale to fall slightly flat.
Erdem x H&M scramble
Lovely clobber but far too much stress.
‘I’ve an Ulster work ethic’
Gloria Hunniford on the secret to her long-lasting career