Oh Disney, Disney, Disney. When Brave came out it was rather exciting to see the first kickass heroine since Mulan beating the boys at their own game. Merida was that rare thing, a proper Disney tomboy, not beautiful but bookish like uh, Beauty in Beauty and the Beast or dying to be trussed up like a sparkly turkey like Cinderella, being kept on her toes by a handsome prince who - like a Strictly Come Dancing judge - was swept away by her dance moves. She didn't slyly seduce royalty by feigning a coma. We don't know who came up with that one first Snow White or Sleeping Beauty but ladies, it's peculiar behaviour.
 
No, we were over all that weren't we Disney? Sigh, apparently not. Concerned little children wouldn't waste their pester power on a proper-as-seen-on-the-silver-screen Merida Disney have modified her. Nipping in her waist, combing her gorgeous hair and soppifying her expression until she is no longer Merida but Mewida, Pwincess of Scotland. I bet she even pronounces Edinburgh 'Edinboro'. In response (because we're reactive like that) we have suggested some make overs for the male Disney characters to make them more appealing.

Everybody but me seems to have an OKCupid account and an office sweepstake on the reality TV show The Apprentice. Actually one of the offices I work in has an Apprentice sweepstake I could be part of but I have never seen the show, and I wasn't in on the day the sweepstake was started, and I don't bet (it's just tricking you into doing maths). Without having even seen the show I can tell you from eavesdropping on the train that there's a 'crazy bitch' in it. In fact all the women in it are, apparently 'crazy bitches' it is just that some have mitigating hotness.

Attitudes like this make it unsurprising that only 17% of of small business in the UK are owned by women. Writing in The Guardian's Women in Leadership section Anne McPherson points out what a huge loss this is for the UK: "Not only is this a real opportunity for our economy if we can encourage more women to set up businesses, but our own polling of female entrepreneurs shows that those women who do make the leap and start their own business report a greatly improved work-life balance, increased confidence levels and the type of job flexibility that make them never want to work for someone else."

Recently, I've been having extended dialogue with dedicated feminists. Or rather, I've been having lengthy coffees with women who considered themselves career feminists before they had an accident with their Pill. They were going to change the world; we chained ourselves to courthouses together while at university to protest the horrendous violence perpetrated against women in South Africa (where we went to university). And then they found themselves pregnant, and away from the great academic role models we used to grill about the meaning of life.

It's not that their pregnancies were the result of violent assault; most were the result of a loving, long-term relationship. It's not that they don't love their kids. But the feminist theory we devoured as students never mentioned motherhood, certainly not in a positive light. Come to think of it, they never mentioned marriage without scorn and derision either, despite the health benefits associated with the institution.

It is what separates us from the animals. Magazine reading. How would we be able to signal our lifestyle, or lifestyle aspirations, to our fellow commuters or local newsagent if we didn't purchase the occasional copy of Vanity Fair. But sometimes we are constricted in our choice by the powers what be at WHSmiths or Tesco et al because no matter how many times these companies recieve a tweet with a damning photo and the hashtag #everydaysexism they continue to divide magazines into Men's Interest and Women's Interest. In spite of the fact many women like science and motorcycles, while there are men interested in celebrity gossip and beauty tips. What can we say? Newsagents love a binary.
 
So, in the interest of having clear interests well marked and defined we have come up with some new categories for shops to latch on to.

CHRISTMAS IS CANCELLED! Not really, I just wanted to prepare you for the news that end of exams long-standing Cambridge tradition of jelly wrestling has been banned. It is possible that never again shall Cambridge students, high on post exam elation, hear the satisfying slap of flavoured gelatine 'gainst female flesh. Never again shall the squelch of jellied bottom hitting paddling pool plastic ring out across the Wyverns Drinking Society garden party. I know many former Cantabrigians shall sigh sadly, realising the halcyon days they recall of violent jelly based  celebrations will not be re-enacted this year. Hugh Laurie, Stephen Fry, Konnie Huq and Bill Oddie among them no doubt. You should hear their jelly wrestling stories you really should.

Whenever there is an announcement of a well loved or well known book (very different beasts, we all know War and Peace - we all have vague plans to totally read it, but we don't love it) is being made into a film there is always cynicism and excitement. Throw into the mix 'oh yeah and it is going to be needlessly in 3D' and you're courting full blown panic. The Great Gatsby was the most recent of these books to be realised by Baz Luhman. In 3D. With Leonardo DiCaprio, Tobey Maguire and Carey Mulligan cast in place of what the book had dredged up from your imagination while reading F. Scott. Fitzgerald's book.

It is telling that few previews and news stories about the film have gone without mention of Fitzgerald's wife, Zelda Fitzgerald. He called her the the 'first American flapper' and used her as proof of his expertise on this new trend, which he was frequently quizzed about - instead of any actual flappers being asked about their lifestyle. Because what would they know?

With Churchill set to replace social reformer Elizabeth Fry on the nation's fivers when the next set of bank notes is issued in 2016, the queen will be the only woman left on our paper money. (Which presumably means that if Charles becomes King before then, our notes will be a total sausage-fest...). It's not the first time a lady on our cash has been bumped off. The lady with the lamp, Florence Nightingale was replaced by Charles Darwin on the ten pound note so Elizabeth Fry, Quaker and social reformer is all we have representing the ladies right now.

This got us thinking about which faces we'd like to see staring back at us when we visit the cash machine or wince as we pay for a round.

Today is the 2nd of May which marks 477 years since Anne Boleyn - the sexy but not as sexy as Katherine Howard in the films wife - was arrested and imprisoned on the charges of incest, adultery and treason. We all know Anne Boleyn as the young woman who was more than a pair of breasts to Tudor England and had more up her sleeve than most (sorry, first and last joke about the alleged extra boob and finger)of her rivals for Henry VIII's affections. But we don't tend to think of this woman who bore unto us Elizabeth I, icon to all redheaded girls or becavitied history buff as much more than temporary wife. You might say she set the trend for marrying Henry (Catherine of Aragon did it before it was cool) but what else?

The gender pay gap (currently - in today's money if you will - women earn 14 percent less on average than men doing the same job) is still hounding us and using examples that can best be described as exceptions to the rule; Margaret Thatcher, Hillary Rodham Clinton, Sheryl Sandberg they remain that. Exceptions to the rule. Women who didn't just rise to the top, but weren't afraid to do so.

The trick is, it seems, is to simply ask. Have you tried asking? See how well that went for little Oliver Twist. Please sir, can I have some more? No, that's not the way we are told. You don't ask, you see it, want it, take it. Smash and grab. Rude.

Even if it seems a majority of women have issues with simply asking or taking, maybe even talking, it doesn't explain a pay gap of 14 percent. Surely. Speaking on Woman' s Hour to promote her new book Be Awesome Hadley Freeman commented that Britain's women were the worst (or the best? Not sure) for self deprecation. We don't just fail to put ourselves forward we put ourselves down.

Our resident mature student Squeamish Sue has been busy, though not with uni work. Busy causing family rifts, ingratiating herself into tourist groups and searching for a safe place where the sun don't shine. But she's still found time to come up with handy hints for optimum dipping stick use...

Easter was celebrated this year with a potential family rift, brought about by misunderstanding and a lack of communication; that seamless combo for the perfect night's sleep. This year my sister in law, with whom my mother in law always spends Easter, and my other sister in law, with whom she doesn't, were unavailable together in some remote corner of paradise on the other side of the world. Meanwhile those of us at the coal face have been otherwise engaged with uni work, didn't connect Easter and paradise in the same nightmare, and made independent arrangements imagining mother in law to be catered for.