Don’t buy her flowers

When I was in hospital having just had Kitty and feeling completely freaked out and like I’d been expertly beaten up by Secret Police who were particularly interested in hitting me in the fanny, my friend Becky B stopped by the hospital with a bag of treats.

Just stopped by the hospital. Didn’t even come in. Just dropped off a bag containing – oh god what WAS it Becky – I remember for sure 3 magazines and a massive chocolate brownie, like some kind of magical little gift fairy. I’m sure there was something else. Maybe a candle. Hand cream? Something else. Maybe some posh coffee.

Anyway it was great, it was such a surprise! It was such a treat and it was all for me, not the sodding baby – for ME. It’s why Becky B is my best friend even though she went to LA and left me here in the rain. fucking bitch!!!!

It’s like Becky B invented this company, Don’t Buy Her Flowers, which is the essence of that bag of gifts she gave to me, only monetised and made into an online company, which is something that Becky B would never do because she’s kind of a hippy. A really clean and non-lazy, non-druggie hippy. It’s why she lives in LA. Clean, non-lazy, non-druggie hippies everywhere.

DBHF is very self-explanatory on the website – rather than sending loads of bloody beauty products or flipping baby clothes or flowers, you can send

1 booze

2 mags

3 flapjack

4 there’s even an option to send some cashmere socks

It’s a great idea and not just for new mums or whatever, (god the phrase “new mum” still sends shivers down my spine), but just for someone you’re thinking about, who likes chocs and booze and mags and socks.

Look this one is good – you can send a cosy scarf and a copy of Living Etc! I want it NOW.