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Real PeopleReal People

Real People Issue 36 2019

Real People is a real-life title which delivers real-life stories, puzzles (and prizes) and affordable practical advice (food, fashion & beauty).

País:
United Kingdom
Língua:
English
Editora:
Hearst Magazines UK
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ASSINATURA
US$26,68
52 Edições

NESTA EDIÇÃO

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this week in your fab value

How are you with job interviews? They give me the wobbles. It’s all that business of ‘selling yourself’. It doesn’t come naturally. But what if romance worked the same way? Picture the blurb… WANTED: WOMAN TO LOVE, PRAISE, WORSHIP ME AND WASH MY BOXERS. I made that up, but I think it’s what the Husband would write if he could advertise. But seriously, who’d apply to that ad? Natalie has a bit of experience… She found herself confronted with recruitment, not romance, on Tinder when Jason liked the look of her (p38). He sent her one very cheeky message, and really there was only one way to reply. Natalie didn’t disappoint… It all ended up in the longest contract there can be, marriage! But you’d have to ask them who’s…

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our mad world!

Cute TOT LIFE’S A BEACH My little girl, Cerys, three, has had a wonderful time at the beach this summer. Here she is, enjoying the sand in Somerset. Mari Powell, Loughor, Swansea UK Two mushroom experts from Kew Gardens picked up a few porcinis in a local shop for their dinner. But Bryn Dentinger and Laura Martinez-Suz’s shopping ended up in the lab, as they’d discovered three unknown species in their pack that came from China. SAFARI SO GOOD I was lucky enough to see a zebra having a good roll in the dust in Kruger National Park recently while on my hols in South Africa. What a trip! Leona Heckman Trefnant, Denbigh THE LAST PLACE YOU’D LOOK! Where do drug smugglers hide their stash? • Recently, Spanish customs officers found a Colombian passenger with cocaine under his toupée (above)! Drugs…

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soap on a rope

East Enders Despite some Albert Squarians (what would you call them?!) still feeling the impact of last week’s drama, others are caught up with matters closer to their own homes. Ian’s had enough of Rainie’s behaviour and calls her on it. Rainie responds by throwing up the pair’s seedy past. Fair game, you might think, except Bobby overhears. It’s grim enough thinking about your parents having sex with one another, let alone finding out your dad paid for a roll around with the local crackhead prostitute – and now she’s rubbing your nose in it. No wonder he’s having hallucinations of Lucy! Ian apologises, knowing it’s not enough. Good job super-dad and Ian’s bestie, Max, is on hand to offer some advice and take this lost boy Beale in to live…

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a hope in hell

The buggy got stuck in the door jamb, my Asda bags were ready to spill... ‘Jenny, wait! Let me help,’ came a shout. Josh Cheevers bounded towards me, a knight with shining muscles. ‘Thanks,’ I puffed gratefully, as he took the bags stuffed with formula, nappies and grub for my three kids, and helped me into Mum’s with them. Josh lived with his grandparents two doors down from Mum’s home in Killyleagh, Co Down, while I’d just moved into a new place nearby. When he’d first said hello, I’d been bow-legged beneath a giant bump, and wondering how on earth I’d cope. I’d split from my hubby. Thank God for Mum, Pauline, 54. She was my rock as baby George* arrived. It was nice to see Josh’s friendly face about, too. Despite being little older than a…

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overkill!

It was if that night hadn’t even happened. By the time I left, we were on again. I wrote Josh three letters a day and was there for every visiting time. With him banged up, he couldn’t shout at me, hurl ashtrays, get bolshy with the cutlery... It was like the perfect romance. I dropped to 5st with the stress of missing him. Then he was walking through the prison gates, a free man again. And in the light of day, my fantasy went up in flames like a vampire in a horror film. It was just weeks before I caught him messaging other women again. ‘We’re over,’ I said, and this time I meant it. Even fools wake up. It had been over for a few weeks when my 36th birthday arrived in December 2018. I…

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down will come baby...

For a moment I looked at the sonographer. Then I laughed. ‘What did he pay you?’ I chuckled, sliding my eyes to my boyfriend, George Jeffries, 37. It was January 2013 and my 12-week scan at Salford Royal Hospital. I might’ve been laid back, jelly on belly, but I wasn’t about to fall for this one! I’d met my laugh-a-minute fella at his ex-girlfriend’s housewarming back in 2009. He was a handsome ex-Army man in his thirties. I was 19, a single mum to eight-month-old Logan and only recently moved to the UK from Zimbabwe. ‘I want three kids, total,’ he’d said early on, taking to step-fatherhood like oil on a fry-up. ‘… Two or three,’ I’d countered. So when I’d started working for a bank and George had settled into a role doing IT at…

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