Nicky Marr

On Monday morning, Dolly Parton was trending on Twitter, and that cold pang of fear struck.

As a student I worked in restaurants – we all did, didn’t we?

It doesn’t matter how old your children are; as a parent you never really stop worrying about them.

In several of the coaching sessions I have conducted recently, the issue of imposter syndrome has arisen.

Grief runs to its own timetable in each of us, impacts us all differently, and going through it is a far-from linear process.

It’s the question on everyone’s lips; what do we really want from our elected representatives?

I’m writing this as we come out of an official period of mourning after the Queen’s funeral.

The world needs people who stand up for what they believe in.

In the 20-plus years since I’ve been writing, I‘ve never had the luxury of someone to type for me.

Edinburgh is filthy. As I write, the city is in day four of a 12-day strike by waste staff, and the rubbish is rising.

With large-scale in-person functions firmly back into our calendars, the number of events I’m hosting is picking up.

As I write this, light rain is falling on Inverness.

Have you heard of Opportunity Cromarty Firth? Sort of? Until recently, that was me too.

Radio Scotland phoned the other day to ask how much I love my mobile phone. Specifically, does my mobile phone impact my marriage?

When customs officials searched our motorhome last week, they weren’t counting the bottles of wine we’d bought to take home.

I have written this column in worse places. Right now, I am on the shore of a tiny lake in Normandy.

I AM always deeply sceptical of press releases from dating websites.

When I was a teenager, it was only bad boys and sailors who had tattoos.

Well, it didn’t take long to get that bunting down, did it?

There’s nothing like following politics to make me feel depressed. No – scratch depressed, I’m furious.