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I work in Primark & we have an absolute steal of a bargain for sleepwear fans – it's only £4 & comes in numerous colours

I work in Primark & we have an absolute steal of a bargain for sleepwear fans – it's only £4 & comes in numerous colours

The Sun9 hours ago
AFTER a long day, there's nothing quite like slipping into your comfies.
And let's be honest, a well-stocked loungewear drawer is an absolute essential for ultimate relaxation.
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But who says comfort has to come with a hefty price tag?
One of the UK's favourite high-street heroes, Primark, is currently overflowing with an incredible selection of super-affordable loungewear that's perfect for those chill-out evenings.
Forget splashing out a fortune - you can now update your cosy collection without breaking the bank.
The word is out, thanks to eagle-eyed Primark employee Beth Clare, who took to TikTok to reveal some "absolute bargain" new arrivals in her store.
With a following of 53.3k, Beth urged her fans to rush down and check out their amazing £4 vests and pyjama sets.
These delightful sets come in a range of colours and playful designs, so there's something to suit every mood.
Imagine snuggling up in a classic red striped set adorned with adorable teddy bears, or perhaps drifting off in a serene green set featuring a chic leaf design.
Whether you're unwinding with a good book, binging your favourite show, or simply enjoying some well-deserved downtime, Primark's latest loungewear drop promises to keep you comfy, stylish, and on budget.
Her video, which was shared on 26 June, has currently received 454.7k views and 221 comments from shoppers expressing their thoughts.
One wrote: 'I literally went to Primark yesterday and stocked up on these!! I got pink, yellow and purple.
Primark's mini dress is a copy of a £135 designer version - it'll give you a gorgeous hourglass figure & perfect for date night
'Great bargain and super comfy.'
A second added: 'Omg I need these. ESP the Teddy and flower ones.
'I'll be at Primark for it opening in the morning.'
A third commented: 'I got every set last week. They are so comfy.'
Shoppers are also racing to get their hands on their latest stylish buy.
They have launched a super flattering summer dress and it's a dupe of an £89 designer buy.
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With soaring, and with the school holidays just around the corner, many Brits will be making plans for beach days and holidays abroad.
And fashion fans reckon Primark is the best place to head to when it comes to getting your wardrobe sorted.
One frock in particular has caught the attention of fashion fans is the Textured Button Midi Dress which shoppers can snap up for the bargain price of £18.
This versatile dress comes in three chic patterns: classic red and white stripes, playful black polka dots, and a timelessly elegant plain white.
Made from a super lightweight material, it's guaranteed to keep you feeling breezy and comfortable even when the temperatures soar.
You can grab this gorgeous gown in sizes six to 22, either by heading into your nearest Primark store or by using their convenient click and collect service.
IF you're looking for more Primark summer buys, then you've come to the right place.
Shoppers have recently been raving about the new Miffy PJs from Primark.
Others were desperate to nab the new leopard print nightwear.
If animal print is your thing, you'll want to check out the new maxi skirts.
The haltnerneck tops are perfect for summer.
If you're on a budget, these trousers are identical to a pair from Zara, but without the hefty price tag.
There's brilliant travel essentials for less than £10.
And if you plan on heading to the beach, you won't want to miss these crochet bags.
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I went for dinner with strangers and it restored my faith in humanity, life and myself
I went for dinner with strangers and it restored my faith in humanity, life and myself

Telegraph

time36 minutes ago

  • Telegraph

I went for dinner with strangers and it restored my faith in humanity, life and myself

As the lift ascends to the 15th floor, only one thought loops through my mind: 'I don't want to be here.' I'm attending a dinner with five total strangers. I don't know their names, ages, or any details about them. All I know is that they'll be meeting me at 7pm. I'm here to experience Timeleft, a viral dinner club designed to help groups of people meet new friends, try new restaurants and break down the barriers that the digital world has erected between us. 'Even 10 years ago we spent way more time socialising: we'd go outside, we went to the bars, we had some rituals in the week too – we went to church or the grocery market or whatever,' asserts Timeleft's founder, Parisian entrepreneur Maxime Barbier, 40. 'The online world has made us much more isolated. I don't think we're becoming less social, I think we're losing our capability to express ourselves, and that's why we created a space where people can talk to each other. That's why I think it's working well in so many different countries.' Operating in 260 cities in over 60 countries around the world, Timeleft dinners take place every Wednesday evening. Diners pay a membership fee for access (£12.90 for a single dinner, or £19.90 for a month in the UK) then can choose a date, and the algorithm pairs them up with five others. The location of the dinner isn't confirmed until the night before. Before any of this, I have to complete a personal quiz. The questions are eclectic: 'Are your opinions usually guided by logic and facts or emotions and feelings?', 'Do you consider yourself more of an author's film enthusiast or mainstream blockbuster lover?', 'From 1-10 how much of an introverted person do you consider yourself?' These answers will, in theory, be used to match me up with a group whose chemistry is perfect for potentially making friends. 'We know six people is the best size for a table, we know that gender balance is really important, we know that it's really important that there's no more than 10 years difference between the youngest and oldest at the table, we know everyone needs to speak the same language, the price of the restaurant plays a big part, we know the balance has to be right between introverts and extroverts,' says Barbier. At the end of the dinner, I can rate my fellow diners to help the algorithm refine what types of people click. Feeling apprehensive Given three million diners have used Timeleft since it launched four years ago, the algorithm should, in theory, be pretty good at putting together good groups: so as I ride the lift up to Madera restaurant on the 15th floor of the Treehouse Hotel in central London, why am I feeling so gripped by anxiety? The truth is, I used to be better at this. A few years ago I could have walked into a room of strangers and felt totally at ease. Recently though, I went through a period of what I can only describe as mild depression. I felt myself growing exhausted by social interactions with new people. The well of gregariousness which I'd always found easy to draw from dried up. It's a bewildering feeling to look back and notice a change like that in yourself; almost as though some quintessential 'Jackness' in me had been irreparably eroded, replaced by a constant concern about how I was coming across: too loud or too quiet, too verbose or too meek, too opinionated or too reticent. Self-awareness is a vital – and sadly often neglected – skill, but this went further: I could never settle on who I was or what I was bringing to people. Of course, some people are natural introverts who would simply not throw themselves into a social situation like a dinner with strangers to begin with. Perhaps I could have accepted that's who I am now. But meeting people used to fill me with joy; I always say that one of the best parts of my job is the wealth of people I come into contact with, so I wasn't prepared to go gentle into that quiet life. So: to dinner. I tell the host I'm here for the Timeleft dinner and she shows me to the bar where I meet Victor and Oli. The pair know each other already – Timeleft allows diners who've enjoyed each other's company to pair up again on future dinners. They are actually celebrating their 'Timeleftiversary': having met at a dinner a year ago, they quickly became fast friends, even holidaying together, and tonight's meeting is a celebration of that. Oli has been on 41 Timeleft dinners across London, and jokes he's an unofficial ambassador for the company. 'I signed up originally because one day I looked at my friendship group and realised they were all married, or having kids, and I had ended up left out,' he explains. 'There are so many people in London, I wanted to meet some of them and hopefully make new friends.' Gradually the rest of our party filters in and it becomes apparent that I'm the only newbie. Ruxandra has just moved to London from Bucharest for a job in the film industry and has been to two dinners to make some new friends. Jeni, a cheerful Australian with an easy laugh, also knows Oli and simply enjoys meeting people; this is her ninth dinner. Sarah, who recently returned to London from Hong Kong and wanted to relaunch herself on the social scene, is on her 19th. A safe space Despite my dinner companions' backgrounds, according to Barbier, 'around 80 per cent' of Timeleft's users are natives rather than expats seeking to form a new social circle. The 50-50 gender split of my dinner is also somewhat unusual: two thirds of users are women. 'Women get together for the purpose of gathering and men get together for the purpose of doing,' thinks Barbier, who argues that generally women are more social overall. 'We launched women-only nights two months ago and we've had more than 12,000 women participating in that.' Men-only nights are being considered to address the precipitous rise of male loneliness, but Barbier thinks they will require a bit more of an activity – he's considering football-themed meet-ups as a trial. 'You say to women that you're having a 'women-only event' and they understand immediately that it's about solidarity, making a safe space, all that stuff,' he says. 'When you say 'men-only' guys panic and suddenly think it's a dating thing. Men are socialised to be bad at this.' Once we make our introductions, conversation turns to food; Jeni volunteers to play mother and picks a selection of sharing platters for us and from there the chatter doesn't stop flowing. We joke about the deafening sound system, especially after a surly manager furiously informs us that no, he won't turn down the speakers 'because in my restaurant we want to keep up the party vibes'. We talk about previous Timeleft dinners, and the rise of in-person meet-up experiences. We chat about holidays, concerts, life in London, the cost of living crisis, the ethics of service charges (Jeni is dead set against them, and after our run-in with the grouchy restaurant manager, we quickly come round to her point of view). Conversation is brisk and free-flowing. Very occasionally we lapse into silence but Oli's endless conviviality is quick to overcome those moments. I'm happy to say that the three and a half hours we spend together flies by. Easy connections It strikes me only once we've split the bill and headed our separate ways that I still don't know a huge amount about my dining companions. I never asked their ages, their occupations, if they had partners or pets. I worry momentarily that might have been rude of me, but then I realise that in the whole time we were together I never felt the need to fall back on stock questions or small talk which might have illuminated such subjects. Instead I learnt about raves in Romanian castles, laughed about the proper 'vibes' a restaurant should aspire towards, and debated the appropriate costs for a taco. It felt rather like hanging out with friends, more than meeting strangers. I won't pretend that I wasn't exhausted by the end of the evening. I can't bear awkward silences and I kicked myself slightly for not being good enough at averting them in places. But overall it was a delight and most importantly, enlivening; proof to myself that the old, confident Jack is still inside me somewhere. And alright, I didn't necessarily make any new bosom buddies, but Oli added me to his WhatsApp group for events in London, and I've promised I'll do another Timeleft dinner. With around 30,000 diners around the world meeting up for dinners this Wednesday night, I'm sure a lot of people have felt the same apprehension I felt earlier. But I'm heartened to think that collectively we all chose meeting, engagement and friendship over the ease of doing nothing, scrolling through social media and letting the solitude of modern life win. In a world that seems endlessly desperate to drive us apart, sometimes it's nice to get a reminder of just how easy it is to connect with the people around us.

Kerry Godliman looks back: ‘If my parents hadn't laughed so much at my jokes, I wouldn't be doing what I do now'
Kerry Godliman looks back: ‘If my parents hadn't laughed so much at my jokes, I wouldn't be doing what I do now'

The Guardian

time44 minutes ago

  • The Guardian

Kerry Godliman looks back: ‘If my parents hadn't laughed so much at my jokes, I wouldn't be doing what I do now'

Born in London in 1973, Kerry Godliman is a comedian and actor. She trained at Rose Bruford Drama School, before taking a course on standup comedy at the adult education college City Lit. In 2012, she was cast as Hannah in Ricky Gervais's Derek, and has appeared in dramas including Save Me, Adult Material and Trigger Point, along with pursuing her career in live comedy and radio. Godliman hosts the Memory Lane podcast with Jen Brister, and performs live in London on 15 July. She is married to actor Ben Abell and they have two children. This was taken at my mum's 40th – a big house party where everyone dressed up. I was going through a 60s phase with the dress, the hair and the eyeliner – all of which was probably inspired by Deee-Lite. There would have been a lot of drinking and smoking and good music. Pretty raucous all round. I felt suburban and strait-laced during my childhood, but as I've got older I've realised my parents were quite bohemian. My dad was a violin-maker and worked in the shed, and my mum was a secondhand clothes dealer who was always studying something new. When it came to work, she wasn't risk-averse and collected interesting people as friends. There was never anyone around our house who had an office job – no accountants popping in. I must have taken that on board when I chose my career. Being self-employed is all I knew. At the time this photo was taken, I was doing my GCSE retakes and about to start my A-levels. I may have failed some exams, but I don't remember being that stressed about it. My general attitude was: 'If I don't get the grades, I'll just do them again.' This picture captures my laid-back mindset perfectly. In my teen years, I was very committed to the local youth theatre in Ealing. It gave me a lot of my creative joy and a real sense of identity. Instead of doing musicals, we were more interested in gritty pieces about HIV. We once made a safe-sex video for Ealing council, during which I played a mum wearing an awful wig and chain-smoking. Not that that was too out of character. For the best part of a decade, there isn't a photo of me without a fag in my hand. There was a lot of banter in my family and my childhood was a lot of fun. We watched tons of comedy on telly, especially Victoria Wood and Billy Connolly. I also enjoyed making the grownups laugh, which led to me wanting to try standup. I think if my parents hadn't indulged me by laughing so much I wouldn't be doing what I do now. There was also Miss Friend, a teacher at school, who was always encouraging. She once wrote in a report: 'Kerry's good, and she could pursue acting for a job … if she doesn't muck around and waste too much time.' I followed the traditional path into acting: I got one line in The Bill, a couple of scenes in Casualty. It was very incremental and bitty. There were lots of 'nearly' moments in my 20s – I nearly got a job at the Royal Shakespeare Company, and I nearly got a nice lead in a sitcom. While it was affirming that I was on the right path, there was also a feeling of never being quite enough. But I don't resent it – that feeling is what pushed me towards standup comedy in the end. Once I discovered standup, I threw myself at it, because I wanted to get better. I loved Victoria Wood, so always assumed I would do character comedy, but I quickly realised that on stage, I had to be me. Or a cartoon version of me. One that's slightly heightened, hyperbolic and nutty. It was very exciting when I got the email from Ricky Gervais about playing Hannah in Derek. It wasn't the usual cattle-call that actors get, he just asked me: 'Do you want to play this part?' I've always been too shy to ask him how he knew about me in the first place – but he loves standup, so he would have seen me on stage at some point, and I had sent in an audition tape for The Office. After Derek, he gave me a scene on Extras and Life's Too Short. Then came After Life – which was mind‑blowing, because it blew up in lockdown when everyone was incubated. The show has since had a life of its own – even this week, someone came up to me and told me how important the show was to them. I feel very grateful to have been part of a bit of culture that creates intimate conversations between people about grief. I always loved comedians who talked about social stigmas, who made human foibles funny. I'm really glad that I'm able to do that with my own standup now. Particularly because I am in the midlife 'fuck it' years, where you have limited bandwidth to hold everything together, so you've got to let some things go. There are times where I get a bit self-conscious because my standup material is so domestic – but that's the landscape of my life. There's always some drama with my knickers or some household frustration to laugh at. Given I am menopausal, there are a lot of emotions to unpick, too. Some days I feel as if I'm drowning, and other days I am blissed-out and feel these are the best years of my life. It's very cathartic to let it all out in a room with a group of women I suspect are all on the same page. Sign up to Inside Saturday The only way to get a look behind the scenes of the Saturday magazine. Sign up to get the inside story from our top writers as well as all the must-read articles and columns, delivered to your inbox every weekend. after newsletter promotion When I was starting out in this career, I used to be riddled with all kinds of anxieties. I thought I'd never find my place in the world, or I'd never meet anyone special. I feel a lot less of that now, but naturally the odd bit of insecurity rises up at times. I've never met anyone who doesn't feel like that. Although I did recently meet a man who said: 'Hey, have you ever heard of impostor syndrome?' I was like: 'Yeah, I think I've heard of that.' Mind you, Ricky is genuinely a fearless person. Has his fearlessness ever rubbed off on me? He has a different profile, he is an older bloke in a world that listens to older blokes. I think sometimes women have had to fight a little bit more for that stuff, but we're getting there. When you have young kids, you devote so much of your life to them, so when they suddenly leave and do their own thing, you have to ask yourself: 'What should I do now?' At the moment, I am doing a lot of standup, which is great, but it can get a little lonely when you're on tour. I'd like to do more theatre, too, and I still love acting, even if it's unpredictable. I didn't get a job that I really wanted the other day. It was humbling, but I'm definitely better at rolling with the punches than I used to be. I've had more experience, and I have faith that something else will come along. My daughter has now decided she wants to get into acting. I'm like: 'I hope I haven't failed my kids by showing them that it's perfectly normal to have this precarious, up-and-down lifestyle!' As for big fancy house parties, I can't remember the last time I went to one. My kids' generation doesn't seem to do them. Or maybe I'm just not invited!

Bob Geldof and Brian May mark Live Aid's 40th at London musical
Bob Geldof and Brian May mark Live Aid's 40th at London musical

Reuters

timean hour ago

  • Reuters

Bob Geldof and Brian May mark Live Aid's 40th at London musical

LONDON, July 13 (Reuters) - Musicians who performed at Live Aid, the transatlantic concert that raised millions for famine relief in Ethiopia, reunited in London on Sunday to mark the event's 40th anniversary, attending a special performance of the musical "Just For One Day". Among the stars gathered at Shaftesbury Theatre were Live Aid organisers Bob Geldof and Midge Ure, Queen guitarist Brian May, musician Nik Kershaw and actor Vanessa Williams. On this day in 1985, some of the biggest names in music came together for the televised international charity show, held simultaneously at London's Wembley Stadium and the John F. Kennedy Stadium in Philadelphia. An estimated 1.5 billion people globally watched Live Aid via live satellite broadcasts. The event raised about $100 million and spawned similar events all over the world for decades afterwards. Irish rocker and activist Geldof told Reuters that Live Aid was still important because it showed the power of collaborative action. "And today in the age of the death of kindness, which [U.S. President Donald] Trump, [Vice President J.D.] Vance and [Elon] Musk have ushered in, it probably resonates all the more strongly," Geldof said. The musicians attended a performance of "Just For One Day: The Live Aid Musical", a behind-the-scenes stage musical featuring songs from Sunday's attendees as well as Bob Dylan, David Bowie, Madonna, Elton John and Paul McCartney. The musical, which had a run at London's Old Vic in 2024, transferred to the Shaftesbury Theatre in London's West End in May. It is produced with the permission of the Band Aid Charitable Trust, which gets 10% from the sales of all tickets. "It made me very emotional at the time. Even thinking about it now makes me emotional," May told Reuters, referring to Live Aid in 1985. Queen's performance that day at Wembley Stadium is widely regarded as a landmark concert in rock music history. "There has never been a day like that in my life," May said.

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