It's often something that comes up in discussions of who has it better socially, men or women (the answer is the rich, by the way). You women have an hour dedicated to you every freakin' week day on BBC Radio 4! Oh well, stop the feminist bus I want to get off - we've reached the equality stop, we've got an hour on the radio every week day.

The thing that can usually stop this debate dead in its tracks - particularly if it's a casual pub debate, I've not seen this tried in more formal settings - is the noble period. Not the pay gap, not the shocking domestic violence figures, not rape statistics or #everydaysexism. No, menstruation and possibly VAT on 'personal hygiene'.

It has been a while since we had a How-to on Squeamish Bikini and, living nearby two universities, we note that students who have graduated or are on their summer break will probably be looking for something to put a dent in their ever increasing debt.

A summer job that you can do hungover (sorry, I am obliged to stereotype you student body - by all means bring me in for a stern word with your student rep) means waiting is out. Handling food, carrying trays of drinks, writing stuff down on a tiny notepad? No, that's not doable on any of the usual hangover symptoms of sickness, shakiness and headaches.

To the trusty call centre then? Well over the weekend The Guardian published a What I'm Really Thinking article from a call centre worker. Do you really want a employment with a job description like this: "Soaking up all this rage for a salary of 17,000." Didn't think so. You can work in a shop but all that standing hastens the development of varicose veins.

I know the sun is shining and the beer garden is calling you but even you must admit a little air-conditioned entertainment wouldn't go amiss. As much as Netflix and LOVEFiLM have to offer you, this new movie-viewing fad doesn't have the style of a classic cinema experience. The anticipation, the syrupy coke and possibly day-old popcorn and that feeling as the lights go down and the screen widens.

Have you seen Cinema Paradiso? It's an unassuming love letter to the cinema. I believe everyone should have a cinema like that. Somewhere that transports them to a different world or at least puts a smile on their face on a grey day.

This week we have had press releases about a triatholon - namely post triathlon beauty products, fake tan, baby products and part time jobs overtaking full time jobs. But we have not received anything that constitutes news. Which is fine because we don't tend to rely on PR companies for news items.

We look to you, internet, newspapers, radio and TV. However the only thing we were up to date on was the state of the royal uterus. We still don't know if the midwives had a dare about saying 'the baby's head is crowning' but we know pretty much everything else. In case you have other interests we did a round up of some other things that happened this week...

I was not the only one hypoing at Glastonbury this year, Este from the band Haim, who also has Type One, rocked the Pyramid stage mid-Hypo.

I saw them at the Park the next day where they proverbially smashed it. Every now and then Este casually used what appeared to be a glucose spray.

I stood in that crowd wondering how many other people were as excited as me to see someone perform so brilliantly, whilst also dealing with all the usual highs and lows of Diabetes.

It's that time again! Confessional Wednesday! Actually there is no such thing, I am currently trying to establish a 'Where are they now? Wednesday' as part of my desire to establish a salon, but there's no Confessional Wednesday. Until now.

Here's the thing... you guys the #EverydaySexism hashtag makes me feel bad. About myself. Page 3? Nah, doesn't apply because I never wanted to be a Page 3 model (unlike some girls in my secondary school yearbook, at the time I thought it was a joke but now I think it was sincere). Fashion? I love it and it never occurred to me I would or should look like a model. Lads mags? Nope, their content and attitude maybe makes me feel sad but not about myself.

Let's talk about girls and boys. We were doing so yesterday. Or rather a girl or a boy. We were very concerned. Or very concerned to voice our unconcern. Me? I wasn't bothered either way but if pressed I was gunning for a boy, because then there was a possibility it could be called Baby David. Like David Royale. But also gunning for a girl because I had been asked to write a piece about the first English royal girl who won't be overtaken in line for the throne by any baby brother.

Unless there is a massive, massive overturning of our affairs.  

Of course this is missing out the important things. One, and probably the most important of all, is Kate Middleton's new project. Losing the baby weight. I don't know how she's going to do it but I expect, like all new mothers, it's top of her list.

This actually was news in March, possibly even before that, like November last year, but it seems either there's been a new press release or silly season has us all obsessed with thigh exposure. It's the kind of news the papers never tire of really - it's probably good for search term hits. In Japan, Tokyo's young women are now running around the city that never fails to inspire Gwen Stefani with adverts on their thighs.

This is a hot news story because it is currently hot. It takes approximately 2 weeks of heatwave before the average woman will shed her tights (this is a lie I made up) and admit that actually she 'does feel a bit hot, yeah...' Those temperature control tights from Marks don't work and even if they did it's not like they have an announcement on them saying they are keeping you cool in the heat/warm in the cool. Everyone just thinks you are wearing opaques in 30 degree heat.

Said it before, say it again, we at Squeamish Bikini just want to help you. We want you to think of us as your (purely textual) friend. The wise one, who sagely nods when you do the right thing; a feminist Jiminy Cricket, if you will. Whenever you have a conundrum we want to be the definitive resource you turn to and then ignore. Which is why we have come up with some tricks we think everyone should know and join us in swearing by.

If you have any tricks of your own you think everyone should know do share in the comments.

I spent much of the run up to my first Glastonbury hypoing. For the past few months I dreamt that the festival could be a celebratory end to finishing my final chapter of my PhD. Instead the unconscious stress that coursed through my veins forced my levels down so often and so unexpectedly (despite temporary basal rates) that concentration and words slipped passed me - again. 

The night before Glastonbury I had failed to achieve my dream. I sat on my bed in tears. The next day and for the rest of the festival I would continue to hypo on a daily basis. This could have made for an awful festival experience, but it didn't. This is partly because Glastonbury is unlike any festival I've been to and Glastonbury 2013 had some especially awesome things about it that hopefully won't be so unique in years to come. So here's a few reasons why the festival is worth investigating and then investing in.