Last Thursday, I cleared my schedule for an evening of serenity. I booked a beauty treatment at the spa, after which I planned to come home and soak in a candlelit bath while reading Heat magazine.

I arrived at the salon at dusk, which is surely the most relaxing time of day. I laid down on the fold-out bed, surrounded by calming diffusers, ready to hand myself over to the gods of tranquillity. The spa therapist cranked up the pan flute soundtrack – we were off! It was only after my first few screams that she informed me I had booked the Vampire Facial, which I now know is not named after Edward Cullen’s porcelain skin, but rather the blood seeping from your face.

Personally, when it comes to relaxing, I usually resort to watching sleep hypnosis videos or listening to guided meditation playlists. I’ll stick one on and peacefully doze off to the thought of imaginary meadows and waterfalls. This worked a charm until one night, unbeknownst to me, Spotify shuffled things up and I awoke to erotic ASMR at 4am. Kinky.

I only sleep for an average of six hours a night. This isn’t because I have insomnia or a particularly busy schedule, but because I genuinely don’t find sleeping very stimulating. When I rest my head on the pillow, all I can think about are the other time zones enjoying their day and partying. It gives me terrible FOMO.

Perhaps I should read out these weekly columns in my most soporific voice and record them for a specially tailored, Nectarine-themed relaxation playlist. You could listen to them in your own twilight hours, eh? Speaking of Twilight, always read the fine-print when it comes to booking beauty treatments on Wowcher. Take a chill pill (not too many), stick your feet up and listen to that genre of music without any lyrics. You’ll feel right as rain in no time.

Ello ello ello

Welcome back to Nectarine News, a weekly newsletter written by me, about me. God, my GCSEs would’ve gone so much smoother if I had taken Iris Studies instead of bloody science. I might’ve even considered University!

I’ve only had a handful of encounters with Unis. One took place last week - I was a model in a shoot that took place at Goldsmiths School of Art. Just visiting for all of 2 hours got me very inspired and my artistic flair flared up. I suddenly had an urge to wear an apron and pierce every part of my ear.

My other run-in with higher education was last year when Harvard asked to interview me as a case study for a new book that two of the professors were writing. Sometimes things in my life are so extremely random that I have no choice but to go along with them. Similar to when I was a contestant on Eggheads. Anyway, they hosted the interview on Zoom and even had the Harvard crest as their display picture. Quite the juxtaposition to my semi naked pouting selfie.

The Massachusetts based academics asked me about my life and how it feels to be a Gen Z, why I don’t have a regular job, why I care so much about social media and why I have no money. The book is titled ‘Losing My Faith’.

LOL.

Person of the week: Pier

Song of the week: Always On My Mind by Pet Shop Boys

Food of the Week: Vegetarian carbonara

Thing is - I may not have a regular job, but I do have 70,000 random ones. Last weekend I worked as a cashier on a bar at Sicily Fest. Their intent was to have me as sommelier, but soon after meeting me, I was appointed as ‘Till girl’. Within the first 30 seconds of my shift I had already struck up a game of ‘Shag, Marry Kill’ with a coworker, about the other coworkers. The festival, based in the Design Centre in Angel, Islington was a family friendly food and drink experience panning over the bank holiday weekend. Genuinely, it was extremely similar to my Glastonbury experience last year. Same amount of drugs, gossip and sleepless nights. Italians know how to party. There was some hilarious characters, including Tony Hammer, an emerging porn star / barback.

By the end of the festival, I had about 8 boyfriends on different food stands. I was given so much cured meat, paninis and lasagna, I didn’t know what to do with it all - especially because I am vegetarian. One of the boys from the gelato stand said I was the “Ferrari of women” and then gave me a bucket of parmesan for me to graze on during my shift.

It was truly a weekend I will remember forever and ever. I hope I can work there every year for the rest of my life, even if I become a really successful famous person.

Speaking of working places forever, that will be not the case for my receptionist role at the gym. After 4 weeks, I handed in my resignaysh last night. It was bitter sweet as I was really beginning to gel with the team, but every rose has it’s thorn. I think they were also starting to warm up to my experimental outfits and copious amounts of fake tan. Someone said I was like “One of those Spice Girls”.

I asked one of the personal trainers if he thought they would throw me a leaving do. He said he wasn’t even 100% sure what my name is. I take that as a no. I will miss signing off emails ‘See you in the jungle. Yours sincerely Iris.’

I won’t miss listening to I’m a firestarter, twisted firestarter 4x an hour on a continuous playlist. I can do that in my own time.

Well, the exciting, thrilling news is…. I am starting a podcast! On my very own Youtube channel! It’s probably the only social media platform I haven’t already spammed with pictures of myself. No time like the present, as Plato or Froid or God once said.

Please join me in this endeavor as we take Nectarine News to the big screen. The format will be similar, featuring a person of the week, song of the week and sat on my bedroom floor eating the food of the week. I can’t wait to share it with you all.

SUBSCRIBE NOW

That’s all from me momentarily. This weekend I am going to party in Peckham and to the Odeon on Sunday evening to watch the scariest movie ever (apparently). Upon choosing the cinema seats, my dad chose middle center and said if we sandwich ourselves in-between loads of normal people, we will feel safer.

Nectarine on a hot tin roof

Hello Nectarine News, Iris speaking, how may I help?

I wish you could hear me say that in my squeakiest customer service voice that I have been exercising the last few days. This week I have been working as a gym receptionist.
Tonight Matthew, I'm going to be a gym receptionist.
Making friends there has been a slow burner so far. On my first day, one of the personal trainers, who I can only compare to in height and build as Hagrid, greeted me by saying "Hello teenage dirtbag" in a very deep voice and then we never spoke again. I did however get invited out for someone's leaving do at All Bar One. I asked one of the PTs if any of them actually drunk alcohol or if they all had pints of protein instead. That got a little giggle in the staff room and then I headed back to my desk and basked in my successful joke for an hour or so.
I have really been pushing the boundaries of the dress code recently, so much so that my line manager made a slideshow presentation of suggested outfits and emailed it to me whilst she was sat next to me. Think high waisted wide leg suit trousers with a modest loose jumper or anything from Zara. I'm more clevage and Uggs.
Yesterday I wore a full leopard print outfit, which I think is highly appropriate given the name of the gym is Roar.

Person of the Week: Ali

Song of the Week: Brothers In Arms by Dire Straits

Food of the Week: Scrambled eggs

I’m really in my Dire Straits era. My TikTok algorithm is a nice mix of Juicy Couture and videos of Mark Knopfler’s incredible electric guitar solos. I think I want my next boyfriend to play the electric guitar. He could do little home gigs for me and I’d cry. He’d learn the Tracy Beaker theme tune and serenade me. Alas, the dating scene and I are not doing too well at the moment. I went on a date with a 24 year old oil trader last week. The three year age gap could techinically make me a cougar but he genuinely looked like he was from the Victorian era, those sorts of faces you see in the Nash Porch Gal (National Portrait Gallery, for those of you who don’t speak my language) or on Wikipedia. I thought maybe he was a time traveller or has been alive forever, meaning he’s actually two thousand years old. Perv. Anyway, we had a big lol on the date and I may see him again but he hasn’t quite mastered the art of being a gentleman yet, despite his many years on this earth. He asked me out again this week and then cancelled last minute to play Padel. Yesterday all he text me was a link to his Go Fund Me page, asking me to donate towards his lads holiday this summer. Lol.

I did meet a nice Australian lad in the pub last Thursday. He looked like Josh Bryant from The Princess Diaries. He was very charming and said he would like to take me to a show. I thought maybe he meant a magic show which is so cool but actually he’s really into musical theatre and suggested The Book of Mormon. If he’s paying, then genuinely why the hell not. We could go to Prezzo before and have the set menu like the perfect normal middle aged couple.

Today I am working at Sicily Fest, a food and drink event in Islington celebrating the island of Sicily, which I have never been to. My best friend Pier got me the gig and I have been assigned the role of sommelier. I genuinely couldn’t know less about wine if I tried. I know I like Echo Falls and sometimes the Sainsbury’s boxed wine that you lie flat in your fridge and has a plastic tap.
I will simply have to learn on the job and sample it all ;)
Pier said I was apparently on the list of people to be axed from the job as they were over subscribed, but according to the bosses, I was saved because of my enthusiastic “WOOHOO” in the group chat after they announced the rota.
They said, “She must really want this”

Money is very tight at the moment, despite my 17 different jobs. I tried to make a pretty penny at the carboot last week but my Doctor Who comic and stained Cath Kidston wallet didn’t fly off the shelves. I also got really protective over all the clothes I was selling and decided to keep most of them after seeing someone take an interest in them. I made £65, I spent £71.
It wasn’t all a waste of time though, I got to meet some of my fans! It was like a meet and greet! I had lots of people say they love my TikToks and one girl said my videos are a breath of fresh air. Love that. Breath of fresh air slightly infused with Britney Spears perfume.

I have been taking some big steps in my career recently. I did a photoshoot and interview with I-D magazine and modelled in a campaign for an eyewear brand. I also was an actor in a martial arts short film which is just too insanely random. Last Saturday, I was so hungover, on Hampstead Heath doing kung foo with some Hollywood actor.
I like to keep things interesting.
Anyway, have a lovely May bank holiday. Nice to see you to see you nice, and lastly a receptionist’s favourite line:

Kind regards,
Iris

God save the Nectarine!

SHE HATH RISEN

Seemed an appropriate opener following the Easter weekend. This is my inbox resurrection and I am glad to be back. Everyday at 11.11am I make a wish and because I am a well balanced and kind person, I try and stick to a 5:2 ratio of selfless/selfish wishes, meaning five days of the week I ask for good fortune upon a friend or family member, and the other two days I demand that I win the lottery. As a self proclaimed religious person in her own unique way, on Easter Sunday I donated my wish back to God and said,
“I hope you have a nice time with your son today, seeing as he’s returned and all.”
I wonder if God finds a cover for that day - someone to temporarily do the Lord’s work.

Speaking of cover shifts, I have been applying for jobs left right and centre. I went for an audition at a salad bar the other week. By audition, I mean a 4 hour unpaid trial where no one talked to me or helped me learn what vegetable goes in which overpriced ‘Grains Box’.
Post shift they said I wasn’t right for the role, which might’ve been down to the fact my acrylic nails had burst through the provided latex gloves and caused a health and safety concern.
I did get a free salad but, do you know what would’ve been nicer?
Money.

Person of the Week: Mabel

Song of the Week: I’m Just A Kid by Simple Plan

Food of the Week: Sage and onion stuffing

I had another trial shift last week for the position of ‘Head Baker’ at one of those corporate package experiences in a tent set up like The Great British Bakeoff, where a group of colleagues from an office come and bake a cake together as their monthly team bonding. I actually loved hosting it! I got to stand on a plinth with a Britney mic on my head and say,
“Hehlooo Bakers! That’s your 10 minute mark till those lovely cakes need to be in the oven.”
and as per the script, I would end the fast paced, competitive session with,
“Now, my first question is... Are we all still friends?”
I love a bit of commercial humour.
I didn’t get the job, but maybe that’s because they watched my TikTok saying I had never baked anything without adult supervision.

At least I still have my trusty pub quizzes to rely on. Well, actually I did something a bit mental last Thursday at my quiz I host at the karaoke bar in Islington. It was booked out by one big company so all quiz teams were from different departments from the same building. I quickly became very friendly with them all, and by half way through the quiz I was having a cigarette with customer service, Marketing were buying all my drinks and I made a joke to Rick from finance that he’d be sorting out the expenses tomorrow.

Later on, Shaznia from HR warned me about the recent allegations that had been made about Rick, so I steered clear after that. I told Shaz, my new confidante that I fancied Elliot from Sales (bearing in mind I met all these people an hour prior). She said he’s known to flirt with all the women in the canteen but he apparently did say I was hot upon arrival to the bar that evening. After the quiz was wrapped up, they all invited me to the Highbury and Islington Wetherspoons.
If I ever decline that invitation, check on me.
After several more free drinks, paid for by the company that I have never ever worked for, Elliot and I shared the Spoons vegan curry and made out on the stairs to the loo.
I went home that night and felt anxious. Had I abused my power of Quiz Master? Are you allowed to fraternise with the quizeees? Aka, snog one in Wetherspoons.
Elliot never texted me back but I did find an email I had sent to the hiring manager at 11.30pm asking for a job at this company.
LOL.

I went for a massage the other day at a parlour that I found on the App, Treatwell. I rarely look at reviews or descriptions or do any research into anything ever so I turned up to this basement in Farringdon with no clue what was in store for me. Turns out the owner, Michael was half masseuse half music producer. He showed me his decks and producing equipment that was awkwardly placed around a massage bed. Totally normal, I thought as he plays me his most recent recording. He then proceeds to give me one of the worst massages of my life whilst telling me he has worked with “the greatests”,
“Jay Z, Usher, Mariah, one of those boys from JLS, Pixie Lott”
As he induced cramp into my calf, I asked why he chose to leave the LA life behind him and focus on the health and wellness sector. He explained that although his music career was absolutely soaring, he just really enjoys working with his hands.
When I gathered my things to leave and limped to the exit, he asked me to leave a review.
I thought, Ange you really don’t want me to, but I will say this to you guys, if you’re in the Farringdon area and in need of a music producer / masseuse, and you like having your ear chewed off, basements and backache, pay him a visit.

You may receive this newsletter twice due to recent integrations with blogging platform, Substack, but as famous the phrase says,
A broken clock strikes correct twice a day.
I have no idea if that makes any sense or is in any way applicable to this, but please don’t unsubscribe.
Love you all, speak next week.

Nectarine is what Nectarine does

Tiktok fame is fleeting - one day you’re viral, the next you’re a nobody again. I always said I would never let fame get to my head, should I one day achieve my goals, but this oath was very quickly discarded. Even after three or four positive comments from strangers, I saw myself in a whole new light. Food tasted better, the birds sung louder etc etc.

During the height of my career, maybe the Wednesday, I remember thinking I shouldn’t even have to queue in Sainsbury’s anymore, I was so god damn famous. Hell, I shouldn’t even have to shop in Sainsbury’s at all. My friend had also experienced a video going viral and warned me of this extreme high but that the attention would quickly pass and I shouldn’t forget my roots. He was right. By the Sunday of that week, I had been forgotten and the eyes of Tiktok moved on. My friends welcomed me back with open arms and I returned to reality. However that small taste of fame was enough to have me hooked and now I want it more than ever. Similar to crack cocaine I am told.

If you are also in the pursuit of TikTok fame, the tips I learnt from my heyday are valuable. Firstly, you should never underestimate the power of good lighting. Infact, I strongly suggest buying one of those selfie rings that clips onto your phone. They’re like £4 from Robert Dyas, batteries not included. Another non negotiable is hashtagging; swallow your pride and hashtag like there’s no tomorrow. It’s the foundations and the infrastructure to get you seen. #please #make #me #famous

Do you know what’s really cool? People who make it big on Facebook. Facebook fame is way more impressive than any other platform because it’s so much harder to attain. I recently added the office caretaker as a friend and then saw his profile picture got 300 likes? If I get over 10 on Facebook, I am pleased. He is also one of those people who has ‘followers’ on Facebook, which is a whole realm of the internet I haven’t even dipped into. I am super happy for him and think it’s really cool that the adults in this world have a place to thrive.

That’s what puts a lot of people off about TikTok I think - it’s thought of as a ‘Gen-Z’ channel. Instagram being for the millennials and then leaving the boomers to quite literally ‘boom’ on Facebook.

If TikTok just isn’t working for you, why not try blowing up on the other sites? People who are esteemed on Twitter are always really smart aren’t they? Usually politically orientated or a

comedian on a panel show. Actually speaking of politics, but definitely not speaking of smart, did you know MP Matt Hancock had his own app? He literally had an app for the Iphone called ‘The Matt Hancock app’,exclusively publishing content about himself. This is one way to go about internet fame I suppose - eliminate the competition by hosting a completely solitary platform to yourself, then you will always have the most views.

Apparently consistency and quantity over quality is the key to TikTok success. My favourite TikToker is a dental assistant from York I came across thanks to the algorithm working in my favour. She posts her lunchtime Tesco meal deal everyday without fail and I am HERE FOR IT. She only has 139 followers but we are a loyal band of fans.

My parting advice is, be bold, be you, be cringe and hopefully I’ll see you on my For You Page soon!

It is truly a commercial months lead up to any themed holiday, isn’t it? This is hard when you’re single, or simply just a hater. Personally, I love any event deep rooted in consumerism and am totally the prime target for all the novelty overpriced love heart shaped crumpets. I have always loved Valentine’s Day, regardless of my relationship status, but if you’re not Cupid’s bff this year, I have some coping mechanisms for you.

My ex stated that he “doesn’t celebrate Valentine’s Day”, as if it’s not part of his religion or something. Being the spineless sucker I am, I lied and said “yeah totally me too, it’s for losers’ as I hid the ‘love bug’ card I had bought back into my bag. I ended up crying in the Virgin Active jacuzzi alone and then eating pasta pesto with my dad afterwards.

This year, I have gone and bagged myself a new boyfriend just in time for the big day and luckily he strongly believes in St Valentine’s so Dad, thank you, but no thank you.

To survive this sweet, sickly period without being sad, there are certain hot spots to avoid. Do you know where you absolutely must steer clear of? Clinton Cards. That place is a single person’s hell on earth right about now. It’s as if love puked on it. Luckily they’re actually going bust so there aren’t many of them left to stumble across. Hotel Chocolat - that’s another no go, unless of course you know the excellent life hack? SAMPLES. They will always give you a copious amount of samples in there. You could go to a different HC every day for a week and collect enough to fill a heart shaped box, then do an Elle Woods, cry your eyes out in bed, gorging on them.

If you’re single but still want to get involved, there are still so many ways to mark this occasion. ‘Galentines’ has become a popular term hasn’t it? All the girlies getting together, few bottles of vino, pamper sesh, the lot. It’s bound to be naff but definitely comforting. My best friend and I cooked a lovely dinner one year and planned a romantic little date night. I still lived at home at the time and the dining room was occupied, so we ended up carrying the garden furniture into my bedroom to eat our three course meal.

I think banding together with your fellow solitary friends is the best move. However, do you know, I have never tried the going for dinner alone thing. People who have braved it report how liberating and great it is. They are of course single, but perhaps they’re on to something. Why not take the plunge and book your favourite restaurant, table for one. There’s loads of couple set menus for valentines so the more for you! You could strike lucky and find a fellow singleton who has read this article and end up eating with them!

The other way to ride the love wave is to take matters into your own hands and ask someone out on a date! According to the rules of nature, you’re pretty much destined to fall in love, or just get blind drunk. Either way, a pretty successful Tuesday.

To conclude, honestly Valentine’s Day is just another public holiday and will pass before you know it. Celebrate the love you do have in your life; send your mum a card, give your cat a cuddle and start looking forward to pancake day.

I live an insanely manic life, following whatever my heart desires to do. I never rest and spend 90% of my time frantically partying. I write this whilst sitting on a Virgin Atlantic flight returning from 6 months in Los Angeles. I am starting to feel insanely overwhelmed. It’s almost like I can’t cram anymore memories into my head and I don’t want to throw any old ones away to make space for the new. I’m a hoarder in the home, I’m a hoarder in the mind.

Sometimes I wish I could take a break from myself. A relaxing weekend getaway to Cornwall or something, without my chaotic self. A little breather from me. Maybe that’s why I party so much; an escape from the 1000 miles an hour lifestyle I lead.

I can’t focus on anything - even writing this - I had to stop to drink some white wine and play solitaire.

I think Los Angeles was one of the best things that ever happened to me, but now it’s over and, what? Will I just forget about it? Will other people know how much fun I had and what I achieved? Will it just be a blip in time that no one will acknowledge? I want people to know every single thing I did and got up to but I don’t know how to do that.

Even writing this is stressing me out. I think I’ll take a sleeping tablet.

I feel very very very close to a mental breakdown.

Nostalgia overpowers me. It makes me want to rip my face off. I feel nostalgic over moments that happened 5 minutes ago. I constantly have to reminisce and dwell on a small interaction that took place. It will be the death of me. I have to replay the memory over and over again to keep it alive. Everyday I spend missing yesterday. I love my life that much.

Let’s start with being fired shall we? It happened 25 minutes ago and wasn’t the worst firing I have ever endured to be honest. I was working at an Italian restaurant near my house for the past week, after walking in one Wednesday morning in my pyjamas and asking for a job. I gelled with the team pretty swiftly, even though everyone including Sanjay from Bangladesh spoke only Italian. I enjoyed cigarettes squatting in the alley with the chefs, I had lols with the KP and they even fed me tuna pasta on my break. I felt so close to everyone that I even let myself have a little cry amidst Saturday lunch service. Francesco, my stereotypical Italian manager asked me “Why the puffy eye, cmon?” with several hand gestures to accompany the question. I explained to him that my boyfriend had left me a few days ago and I was completely heartbroken. He said “Take a big look around you... This is your life now”. I cried more.

Turns out that life at Apulia restaurant was very short lived. I turned up to my third shift today, in my stupid black Primark shirt and they told me I wasn’t experienced enough for the job. I walked out with my head held high but did wonder if it had anything to do with the drunken photo I sent to the team group chat whilst watching the Euros on Sunday. Oh we can add the England loss to the list of disappointments recently.

Now, I will tell you about my breakup. Well, his breakup with me. I was dating the most amazing boy for the last two years, with whom I was crazy in love with, as Beyonce and Jay Z would have put it. He told me 11 days ago that he was no longer able to be my boyfriend and needed time alone. I fought hard but had to eventually accept this decision of his. I have wailed so much in the last week that I also contracted whooping cough. Contracted? Sounds like I hired whooping cough to redecorate my bathroom. Anyway, heartbreak is worse than any viral infection because no medicine can cure it which SUCKS.

My other job is nannying little tiny American children. Not like I will only look after specifically little tiny American children but I happen to help out some family friends of ours. I pick them up from school and hang out with them several days a week. I have been leaning on their weenie shoulders throughout this tough time and they’ve been amazing. They know all the right things to say when I cry because they’ve learnt them all from Disney Channel shows. The 6 year old said to me today “He doesn’t deserve you”, which she later told me she heard in a Hannah Montana episode.