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  • It’s OK Not To Like Matcha!

    We all have them, those little unpopular opinions that make people look at you like you’ve just insulted their Nan. Mine? I don’t like matcha. There, I’ve said it. The wellness world can keep its frothy green potion – I’ll be over here with my tea, my wine, and my dignity intact.

    🍵 The Green Gospel

    In the past five years, matcha has somehow gone from a centuries-old Japanese tea ceremony to infiltrating cafés up and down the UK. It’s in ceramic bowls, overpriced lattes, doughnuts that were perfectly fine before they were green, and it’s usually served by someone with frosted tips and a tragic devotion to oat milk. You can find it everywhere, from Shoreditch, to Leeds, to every motorway station down the M5! We’re told it’s ‘earthy’ – which, in non-wellness terms, means it tastes like wet lawn. Aspirational? Hardly.

    😬 My Polite Sip of Doom

    I tried. Honestly, I did. I once sat in a painfully minimalist café in Bristol, watching the barista spend five full minutes whisking my matcha like it was a potion to end the cost of living crisis. I took a sip, smiled as best I could, and said, “Ooh, that’s… different.” What I actually meant was, “Why does my tongue feel like I’ve licked a hedge?” Of course I finished it, because I’m British, and politeness matters more than personal comfort. But in truth, if I wanted something green in a mug, I’d just let my tea bag sit there for a fortnight.

    🧘‍♀️ The Cult of Wellness

    Modern wellness culture would have you believe that if you’re not sipping something green and banging on about antioxidants, you’re doing life wrong. There’s this unspoken pressure that to be considered “well” you must love yoga, drink kale smoothies, and massage rosemary oil into your scalp before bed. But self care doesn’t have to mean choking down something that tastes like garden trimmings just because your Instagram feed says it’s trending. Sometimes a proper mug of tea, a chocolate digestive, and a bit of fresh air can do more for your soul than any powdered leaf…and none of them require a bamboo whisk!

    🌿 My Affordable, Totally Un-Instagrammable Wellness Routine

    So, if I’m not drinking Matcha, what the heck am I doing for self-care nowadays…

    1. Morning Hydration:
      Start the day with a big glass of tap water, straight from the kitchen sink. Bonus wellness points if drunk from a chipped mug.
    2. Mindful Movement:
      Instead of sunrise yoga, I shuffle to the corner shop in my slippers to buy a loaf of bread and some more loo roll. It’s cardio if you walk fast enough.
    3. Superfood Breakfast:
      Two slices of toast with real butter, maybe an egg for protein! No avocado, no chia seeds, no mysterious powders unless you count the icing sugar still hanging around the kitchen from last Christmas.
    4. Skin Care Ritual:
      Moisturise with Baby Lotion, put toothpaste on spots, and use whatever’s left of that face mask I bought in 2019. If it tingles, it’s working!
    5. Lunchtime Meditation:
      Sit in the garden, stare at nothing in particular, and soak in the chaos of children screaming and the faint hum of someone practicing the drums two doors down. Very grounding.
    6. Afternoon Pick-Me-Up:
      A cuppa and a biscuit. Or a cake. No matcha latte for me – unless the matcha is hiding inside a chocolate digestive.
    7. Evening Detox:
      A glass (or two) of New Zealand Sauvignon while having a whine with friends. Laughter burns calories, apparently.
    8. Bedtime Ritual:
      Remove makeup with the cheapest wipes from the supermarket, put on my oldest moth-hole pyjamas, and sleep like someone who didn’t spend £80 on a candle to “aid restfulness.”

    And the best part…not a single one of these involves pulverised leaves that cost more than my weekly lunch budget.

    🛋️ Confessions from the Comfort Zone

    Let’s be honest, we’ve all politely endured a wellness fad we secretly hated. Cold showers. Kale smoothies. Yoga in a draughty church hall. My advice, if you’re after something green-but-good, skip the matcha and reach for a crisp New Zealand Sauvignon instead. It’s fresh, fruity, and the only “grassy notes” are the pleasant, drinkable kind.

    And listen, if you genuinely love matcha, that’s fine. I’ll admire your commitment from over here with my wine glass. Equally, if you’re with me on this unpopular opinion, or if you occasionally fall off your carefully curated wellness journey, in favour of biscuits and binge-watching, that’s fine too. This is life. Do what you enjoy, have a laugh while you’re at it… and, if you value your taste buds, maybe don’t drink matcha.

    On that note…

    🍷 Today’s Wine Pairing is…

    A generously measured glass of New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc – giving you all the green vibes without any of the bitterness.

    CHEERS to doing wellness your own way!

    See you on Friday for more!🍷

    H x

  • From Gaslighter Grenache to Love-Bombing Lambrusco: The 5 Wines I Wish I’d Sent Back

    Modern dating is basically a wine tasting with no spittoon. You sip, you swirl, you pretend to detect “notes of emotional maturity,” and then BOOM…you’re halfway through a bottle of red flag and wondering how it all went so wrong.

    We’ve all sipped from the same disappointing cups: the Gaslighter who made you question reality, the Ghoster who disappeared faster than your self-esteem, the Breadcrumbing ex who served just enough crumbs to keep you starving, and the Love-Bomber who came on strong and fizzled even faster.

    Think of this as your unofficial tasting guide – a breakdown of the five most common dating blends that leave a bitter aftertaste with a few sprinkled anecdotes to add some flavour! 

    So take a seat, have a sip, but drink with caution. These are the vintages best left unopened…

    🍷1. The Ghosting Gamay

    • Appearance: Bright and full of potential.
    • Aroma: Sweet nothings and “can’t wait to see you” promises.
    • Taste: Rich and exciting…then completely vanishes.
    • Finish: Cold, flat silence and obsessive stalking on our end.

    Notes: Starts strong with intense belief that this is the one, then disappears entirely. Pairs well with late night over-analysis and checking if they’ve watched your Instagram story.

    Yes, I know the army has a reputation for being emotionally unavailable and driven entirely by testosterone, but this one seemed…different. We spoke every day, he drove two hours to see me, a good fish in a sea of sharks, right? Wrong. My mother insists his phone was run over by a tank. I, on the other hand, am convinced he’s just deliberately MIA.

    Has it happened more than once? Yes.
    Is it my fault? Absolutely not.                                                                               Will it happen again? Almost certainly.

    🍷2. The Bread~crumbing Beaujolais

    • Appearance: Light and flirty with a youthful glow.
    • Aroma: Sweet compliments but no real substance.
    • Taste: Promises of dates and future plans that never arrive.
    • Finish: Frustratingly dry and vaguely humiliating.

    Notes: Just enough sweet messages to keep you hooked, but never enough for an actual date. Finish is long, drawn-out, and unsatisfying.

    There’s only so many “You’re gorgeous” and “How’s your day?” texts one girl can live off. So desperate times, desperate measures folks. Enter, the month long text-a-thon with a man who’s personality consists of a DUI. Bad boy charm, I told myself. We joked about dates, we joked about him being “passenger princess”, I even chose to ignore the fact he was using his passport as his ID (ick). Turns out, the only thing he was actually driving was my patience.

    Still, when someone calls you Angel Eyes, you temporarily lose your brain cells.

    🍷3. The Red Flag Rosé

    • Appearance: So pretty you ignore the alarm bells.
    • Aroma: “I’m still in love with my ex” and faint denial of personal growth.
    • Taste: Equal parts flattery and oversharing, with undertones of emotional damage.
    • Finish: Lingering unease with notes of “wtf just happened?”

    Notes: Perfection on the surface, but overwhelming hints of ‘toxic masculinity’ and ‘doesn’t believe in therapy’. Leaves you with: a migraine, a dodgy stomach, and a complimentary pen from his work van. Romantic.

    The meet-cute was perfect, like a classic 00s romcom. He knocked on my door, toolbox in hand, the angels sang and the heavens opened. I was convinced I’d won the love lottery. But by date five, the red flags I’d been ignoring were practically flashing like a neon ‘Danger’ sign above his head. He showed me photos of his ex…and the woman he cheated on her with, then casually mentioned schizophrenia runs in the family and he’s “pretty convinced” he has it too.

    The pièce de résistance? His grandmother was murdered by gypsies – his words, “it’s not ideal, but I didn’t really know her.”

    🍷4. The Love-Bombing Lambrusco

    • Appearance: Sparkling, exciting, and a bit too polished.
    • Aroma: Overpowering sweetness and intense flattery.
    • Taste: Flowers, gifts, and daily affirmations – until the bubbles go flat.
    • Finish: Cringe flashbacks, height-related denial, and emotional whiplash.

    Notes: Fun, bubbly, and full-on in the beginning but then suddenly flat and a little sour. Best enjoyed in moderation, if at all.

    He told me on the first date he was a love bomber. That should’ve been my cue to swan-dive out the nearest window. Instead, I stayed. I got the flowers, the gifts, the “good morning beautiful” texts, the promises of sailing away into a new life. The dopamine hits were too much to resist and enough to forgive the 4-inch height difference.

    Did I ever get on the boat? No.
    Did I get a Bridget Jones marathon with Ben & Jerry? Absolutely.

    🍷5. Gaslighter Grenache

    • Appearance: Dark and confusing, but deceptively smooth on the surface.
    • Aroma: Notes of charm layered over emotional manipulation.
    • Taste: “I never said that,” with hints of twisting words and guilt trips. 
    • Finish: Lingering self-doubt and a sudden craving for therapy.

    Notes: Overpowering aroma of “it’s not me, it’s you” with a bitter aftertaste of you questioning your sanity. Best avoided, even if it’s on a 2-for-1 deal.

    Picture this: you drive over an hour because they called you crying, sad and lonely, and no one can fix it but you. You stop for snacks, M&S finest, despite your 50p bank balance, because you’re a literal legend. First words? “How come you’re here?” First blow. Second blow: “I’m not really hungry, but you can eat them” Sour notes begin. Finally, “I’m fine to be honest, kind of just want to be alone, I feel like you’re making this a big thing, not me.”

    Not just gaslighting… oh no. This is M&S Gaslighting.

    🍷 The Finisher: Sip Smarter Next Time

    Look, we’re all guilty of drinking from the wrong bottle now and then. Sometimes it’s because we’re lonely, sometimes it’s because they have really nice arms but really terrible boundaries. And sometimes we just want to believe the luxurious label even when the ingredients scream “artificial flavouring”!

    But here’s the thing: every bad pour, teaches you something.

    • You learn to trust your gut when the “aroma” feels off.
    • You learn that love shouldn’t leave you dehydrated and dizzy (unless it’s from laughter or a decent wine).
    • You learn that your standards are not too much, and wanting clarity, effort, and kindness is not asking for a Grand Cru in an Echo Falls world.
    • And maybe most importantly, you learn that the worst dates usually make the best stories…and the best blog content.

    So go ahead, pour it all out, but don’t forget to raise your glass to how far you’ve come. 

    You’re not bitter, you’re just well-aged.

    On that note…

    🍷 Today’s Wine Pairing is…

    A 250ml pour of La Vieille Ferme Rosé (AKA Chicken Wine) –because sometimes it’s ok to let a fancy label hide a cheap price and a bitter taste!

    CHEERS to sipping smarter, loving louder, and knowing when to spit, not swallow;)

    See you on Tuesday for a 2-post week!🍷

    H x