Peaches Teaches has been around since May but I have somehow managed to blinker it out from my world – a simple act of self-preservation, clearly. Anyway, now I feel strong enough to confront it (apologies if you’re not there yet). So lets read a little extract shall we! And lets have a picture of the wise one herself. Just for context, so we don’t go about forgetting the woman behind the words…

Wonderful, it’s like staring at my own personal guru (my guru clearly wears a bowler hat). Ok, impart your knowledge guru. We’re ready!

Q I’ve been a brunette my whole life and I am desperate to go blonde but lacking in courage. One of my friends has suggested I buy a wig and try it out first. Do you know a good shop where I could try some on? Thanks.

A Weirdly enough, shopping for wigs is not at the top of my day-to-day to-do list. I find them far too Elton John-meets-Britney circa the breakdown to be appealing. Though your friend is right, it’s better to try on a wig and see how being blonde suits your skin tone and look rather than dyeing it and ending up resembling a washed-out, frazzled poodle. Going for a much lighter tone than your natural one can be hit or miss, it either looks amazing or terrible.

I remember my sister Pixie trying on wigs for a fancy-dress party in Selfridges once and the store has some pretty realistic ones. Otherwise try the Afro hair shops in Dalston: whenever I pass them I spy blonde treasures glinting at me through the windows.

I was totally kidding myself. I AM NOT STRONG ENOUGH. I never will be.

Dear Peaches,

I recently suffered a breakdown as a result of reading your agony aunt page. It was so badly written and so terribly executed, I simply couldn’t handle the mental and emotional strain of knowing you were paid to pretend to have some therapeutic qualities and knowledge when clearly that is just impossible. And your accompanying picture, oh my god, WHY ARE YOU WEARING THAT HAT? Seriously, why? I’m lost. Please help.

dazed and confused, London

PS. You could help by quitting the public eye in general. This would help me – and humanity at large – enormously.

*** Please note, it took a lot of willpower to categorise this post under literature when really it should have been categorised under BULLSHIT***

Oh! children of future generations. One day some of you will come across this in your grandmother’s house. You’ll ask her what the fuck this is about only for your septuagenarian ancestor to babble about her love for a fictional beige-clad Volvo-driving prude, reveal her oeuvre of Alternate Universe fanfiction and show you the tattoo branding her wrinkled skin. You may need to laugh/throw up. I understand. Also, put it back on the shelf. Read Anne Bronte instead.

I bow down to your exploitational skills, HarperTeen marketing department. I would have made the cover sparkle, however.

The prophecies contained within won the 1997 Pegasus Award for 'Best Sorcery Song'

There are so many things I loved about these books (how can one resist the creepy crockery tracing and murderous sexual jealousy of The Owl Service? Although, as an 8-year-old the sexual jealousy bit may have gone slightly over my head), but there were some general features that were literary catnip, sending me scrambling desperately for my library card so that I could read way past my bedtime in secret (with a torch hidden under the duvet, of course, a habit which my mother assured me would ’strain my eyes’ in old age, ie. now):

1. Ominous standing stones – for aligning with other ominous landscape features.

2. Crows/ravens/rooks – for anthropomorphism and/or enhancement of general ominousness.

3. Mysterious, enigmatic, and sometimes ominous extended members of the family – may or may not be reincarnations of Merlin, or even agents of the Dark.

4. Swords, chalices, parchments – for waving, glowing at important moments, and signifying stuff.

5. Cornwall, Dorset, Alderley Edge or Wales – it’s hard to be ominous in Milton Keynes.

6. Sandwiches – magical happenings were normally stumbled upon while on a country walk with your siblings or the slightly weird local loner. This, of course, involved sandwiches packed by the housekeeper of the holiday home/the extended family member you were staying with. 

7. Total ignorance on the part of the parents. As a child this was the best part, really. The magic was all fine and dandy, but it was the fact that you could have your life endangered by masters of the Dark without your parents knowing that really did it for me.

For example, I am absolutely terrified of motorcycles thanks to the sobering messages in book 6…

And 7…

I still believe that if you give into the jealousy at seeing other women riding on the back of your boyfriend’s motorcycle, and decide to show them who’s boss and hop on for a ride, you WILL crash and you WILL end up in coma (although miraculously your appearance will remain ‘California perfect’) and you will wake up a different person who fights with their sister (I don’t have a sister but if I did and if I had gotten on that motorcycle, well, we all know what would have happened – yep, fucking awkward family meal times). I know that love is dangerous.

I am also terrified of volunteering at local hospitals. Book 13 taught me that if you do volunteer, you WILL get…

by a lonely and disturbed orderly/rapist. Yikes! I WILL NEVER BE A CANDY STRIPER. It’s far too dangerous.

I will also never let my pilot boyfriend take me on his first licensed flight (kinda seems like an obvious one actually). Because book 20 taught me that if you do so, you are certain to have a…

Yes, he WILL crash and you WILL end up seriously injured. But even worse than that, he only asked you to come on the flight to break up with you! He wants to  date the girl he now loves instead of you (who is FAT, adding insult to injury). Now I didn’t particularly liked Enid, in fact I found her annoying as fuck. But still, SAY NO TO FRESHLY WINGED PILOTS. Very dangerous indeed.

So yes, those are just some of the many many life lessons I have learnt from SVH. And if you were wondering which Wakefield twin I liked best, it was Jessica. It was so clearly Jessica that I would often get seriously pissed off at Elizabeth on Jessica’s behalf, mostly because Elizabeth is an annoying, snotty, brainy, bitch (clearly I meant was, not is).

Um, ANYWAY, this website is just brilliant: The Dairi Burger.

Americans however, hate flippant swearing and as such, often find us British terribly offensive. All the more reason to keep doing it really.

If you don’t what the fuck I’m talking about, see this website…

The fucking weather