A Day In The Life Of A Fictional Female Reporter

This Classic NEWSSVET Post originally ran on Apr 15, 2018.

9:17 am: Sleep with a source.

10:00 am: Sleep with my boss.

10:58 am: Find a powder-blue Oxford shirt that doesn’t quite button up over my breasts. Buy eight.

11:13 am: Internet.

11:45 am: Cultivate moxie, “stick-to-itive-ness.”

12:11 pm: Return to source’s house for more sex/to steal the incriminating book he keeps locked in his nightstand.

1:03 pm: Naked interview.

1:36 pm: Refuse to perform on-air puff piece about a cat show, demand to be allowed to

 tag along on big story; decide to strike out on my own and get to the bottom of things after being rebuffed.

2:27 pm: Sex on newsdesk.

3:00 pm: Sabotage source’s career in order to get the big scoop after sleeping with him one last time.

3:02 pm: Stare expressionlessly at computer monitor as if to say, “What have I done?”

4:15 pm: Publish big scoop, receive “well done” from boss I am sleeping with, whose approval I am no longer sure I want.

4:51 pm: Sex in press room during office party. Feels hollow, somehow.

5:39 pm: Return to source’s house for a quick round of hate-sex and then to help him find redemption. Together we’re going to find an even bigger scoop. And then I’m going to have sex with that scoop.

Patrice Chapon, the master of chocolate

Soon Easter! This is the opportunity to meet one of the rare craftsmen to ensure the entire manufacturing process, from the cocoa bean to the gourmet egg.

This Peugeot 203 of the 1950s was converted into a mobile foam bar.

It's a tiled shop that looks like it came out of a Tim Burton film, where, in the middle of the cocoa scent, the raw wood furniture rubs shoulders with an old machine that roasts the precious beans. A wall covered with shelves surmounts glass bells housing each of the cocoa fragments, whose bewitching scent we are invited to smell. Patrice Chapon is an explorer of taste.



Since 1986, he has been travelling the world in search of the small producers that he has found in the heart of the Brazilian forests or at the bottom of the Sambirano valley in Madagascar, populated by mygales and royal pythons: "These are hacienda cocoa, which I buy very expensive, to convince producers not to sell them to the cocoa industry.



I look at the beans after they dry and check that they are perfect, of a beautiful color. Then, I roast them in Chelles, near Paris, before proceeding to the conching (which lasts twenty-four hours and whose goal is to remove acidity)".

In his moss bar, in Paris, Patrice Chapon serving a chocolate mousse.

Chapon is the only chocolate maker who does not use soya lecithin or cocoa butter. His passion is pure, concentrated, intense cocoa, a blessing of nature, rich in vitamins and minerals and free of any chemicals during its agriculture. Its cocoa trees grow in an almost virgin environment, between mango, eucalyptus, banana, hibiscus and vanilla trees, which communicate their perfumes to cocoa.

Milk chocolate and dark chocolate egg garnished with caramelized cashew nuts, filled with fries and mini-Easter eggs, 35 €.© Philippe Petit / Paris Match

In his shop, he has created a chocolate mousse bar that reconciles us with this dessert often too sweet. Each was made from a unique terroir cocoa: Ecuador (rose petal notes), Madagascar (cherry aromas), Venezuela (100% sugar-free cocoa: an explosion of dried fruits!), Peru (blackberry, ginger) and Ghana (spicy and intense nutmeg taste). Thus it is possible to appreciate the taste and the quintessence of each of these particular vintages. Enthusiastic, the Queen of England made Patrice Chapon her ice cream maker for chocolate ice cream...

Mosses are served here in cones or 100 gram (6.20 €) jars. Besides cocoa, Chapon uses only organic eggs and good cane sugar, no vanilla, no preservatives, no orange peel, he is also the first craftsman to use the cocoa pulp that covers the bean and is necessary for its fermentation. From this pulp he makes sorbets and drinks with the incredible taste of lychee.

Translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator

The ‘Hold on to your man’ plan

Whether you've been together for weeks or years, make sure your love life rocks, not rots

By Marie Mason, 01/08/2015

Be it so-so sex, an annoying habit or something more serious, every couple - from those in the first-month flushes to more settled love-things - have moments when they question whether they're in the right relationship and are perfect for each other.

When these niggles strike, it's easy to feel like the only answer is to throw in the towel, down enough cocktails to sink a small island, then take off with a hot 21 year old! But step away from the Daiquiris and dating websites - experts believe there's always a way to work out whether what you've got is worth it and if so, how to work on it.

"From the moment you meet, you have to realise that relationships are living things that need looking after otherwise they'll wither and die - like a plant," says Andrew G Marshall, author of I Love You But I'm Not In Love With You: Seven Steps To Saving Your Relationship (Bloomsbury, £8.99). Take our test to find out how to keep your love life sparky...

THE BLANKETY BLANK TEST

Fill in the blanks, then add up the numbers

I am happy with my man ___ per cent of the time and I'm ___ per cent sure that he is The One. Off the top of my head I can think of ___ things I love about him, and on a scale of 1-5 (5 being best), I'd give him ___ for romance, ___ for attractiveness and ___ for being a great listener. When we're together, he makes me laugh about ___ times. I'd give our sex life a ___ out of 10; since getting together we've tried ___ new things in bed. When it comes to our social life, we share ___ hobbies and interests, and we've done ___ cool things together.

If you get over 170: score 2pts

Over 100: score 4pts

Under 100: score 8pts

THE 'TRUE OR FALSE' TEST

Pick True or False for each statement

1 We've got lots in common

2 Most arguments are laughed off or resolved

3 Our relationship is 'normal'

4 I discuss problems with him before my pals

5 What we've got doesn't feel rocky

6 Being together can be exhausting

7 We often speak to each other badly

8 He often strops off if we argue

9 I'm frightened of speaking my mind

10 Sometimes I find sex a chore

Add up your total.

Qs 1-5: score 0pts for True and 5pts for False

Qs 6-10: score 5pts for True and 0pts for False

THE EMOTIONS TEST

Think about your relationship in the last month and record the extent you felt the following emotions. Circle the number that applies to you.

Score the number of points you've circled in each line and add up your total.

SCORE: 36 AND UNDER

Joined at the hip

A stable couple, most of the time you're loved-up - sharing hobbies, hot sex and a wicked sense of humour. Then out of nowhere you hit the occasional rocky patch. "Play detective," advises Andrew. "Track back to the point you were knocked off course and understand the cause. Was it job stress? Spending less time together? Ask yourselves: 'What have we stopped doing that we need to start redoing?' Then recycle the things that worked for you in the past. Reliving a holiday is perfect but it's less about grand gestures and more about small changes - like eating together each night and talking." And when you are back on track? Ensure you don't live in each other's pockets: it's damaging. "Very 'together' couples easily go stale," says Andrew. "Closeness and distance is needed for good sex, so enjoy 'me' time."

SCORE: 37-71

Having a blip

You two passionistas love each other but you argue lots, wasting time on bickering about trivial things when you could be having fun. "Niggling couples usually have underlying issues in their relationship which need bringing into the open," says Andrew. "Next time you're arguing about something stupid, stop and ask: 'What is the real problem here?'" Say why you're really angry with each other and aim to reduce the number of things you're rowing about. "These types of couples often cross-complain," says Andrew. "So a row that started about her working too much becomes one about him not being tidy. Deal with one issue at once. And if you're going round in circles, consider issues from the past. Most arguments are 80 per cent about the past and 20 per cent about the present." Stop, look back, then sit down and talk issues through rather than niggling about things that don't matter.

SCORE: 72 AND OVER

Letting it slip

Chances are you've been together a while and your once-strong spark's feeling flat and you're spiralling towards those magic words: "I love you but I'm not in love with you." For a chance of survival, you'll have to speak up. "Couples in this situation end up passionless as they haven't argued enough," says Andrew. "They've swallowed their discontent, saying things don't matter when they do - remember, you don't have to agree on everything." And if you've grown and changed, tell your partner. Don't just say: "We've grown apart, we've changed, goodbye!" Say: "I've changed, I want our relationship to change." To renew your relationship Andrew suggests putting a fresh perspective on your problems. "Do something challenging or different within your relationship - from going to a new pub to learning a language together - and look at life through new eyes. Then talk about how things can be different, rather than where you've gone wrong."

‘My wife can’t remember our baby’

Last year, Rebecca Doig, 31, was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s just weeks after falling pregnant Here, her husband Scott, 40, explains how he desperately misses the girl he married

Rebecca is now too ill to know she's a mother

Scott and Rebecca on their wedding day in 2003

Rebecca was fit and healthy when she got married

Rebecca was diagnosed with Alzheimer's while pregnant

Scott and Emily on holiday in Hong Kong in 2008

Scott can't share Emily's milestones with Rebecca

By Kathryn Knight, 25/07/2010

"Like most new dads, I'm absolutely besotted with my new baby girl. When Emily smiles, when she gurgles with laughter, I feel like I could burst with love. But every special moment with her is tinged with a deep sadness that her mother, my beautiful wife Rebecca, will never fully share in my love and pride for our daughter.

Because a devastating illness has robbed Rebecca of her mind, her memory and her emotions. She has no idea that she gave birth to Emily just three months ago. That day, in April this year, I placed a newborn Emily on Rebecca's lap. 'Look at our gorgeous girl,' I said, hoping she would respond.

But she just stared blankly - unable to understand. It broke my heart to see her so detached from what should have been the happiest day of our lives.

When I married Rebecca six years ago, we both knew we wanted a family together. Now we have a perfect, healthy daughter, but I know Rebecca will never experience the joy of seeing her grow up.

Diagnosed with Alzheimer's aged just 31, and eight weeks pregnant, Rebecca is the only recorded case of a pregnant woman ever being given such terrible news. There is no cure for her condition, and I have had to accept that I must now be both father and mother to Emily - and carer to my wife, too.

Bubbly, vivacious and energetic, I was instantly attracted to Rebecca the first time I saw her at the IT company in Sydney, Australia, where I was a manager and she worked in customer services.

Her smile lit up the room and I knew I had to get to know this girl. Always on the go, Rebecca was forever at the gym or out walking, but I eventually managed to land a date with her.

I knew from that first evening together she was the woman I wanted to marry, and just a few months later I proposed on a night out. It was so spontaneous, I didn't even have a ring.

A couple of months later, in October 2003, we married in a beautiful park in Sydney.

The changes in Rebecca were so gradual I hardly noticed them at first. It started in January 2007 with her forgetting little things like where she'd left her keys. I did that sometimes too, but over the coming months her memory really started to falter.

She was frustrated and confused about why this was happening to her. As time went on, things got steadily worse. She was forever losing her bag or phone and missing doctor's appointments. And then she started to struggle at work, too. She loved her job as a receptionist, but within six months she couldn't do it any more.

Rebecca cried tears of frustration and disappointment. She blamed herself, but it was so out of character we went to see several doctors. No one could give us any definite answers. One said she was depressed, another that she was suffering from stress. Neither of us dreamed it was anything serious. She was young and fit.

But she became increasingly forgetful and erratic. By summer 2008, Rebecca was losing waitressing jobs because she'd be late or lose track of orders.

And because she'd forget plans she'd made with friends, she began to drift away from them. They struggled to understand, as Rebecca was embarrassed, unable to keep up.

Soon Rebecca would tell me she'd parked the car, then not remember where it was. This really scared her and she'd be angry with herself. At home, she retreated into herself. She didn't watch her favourite TV programmes like Grey's Anatomy any more. Instead, she'd stare into space.

I felt completely helpless. I tried talking to Rebecca's parents, but as they only saw her for a couple of hours at a time and sometimes she could be completely fine, they couldn't grasp the severity of the situation. Rebecca was frustrated, too - she couldn't understand what was happening to her.

'I think I should leave you,' she'd say, tearfully. 'I'm just letting you down.'

But that was the last thing I was ever going to let her do.

The change in Rebecca was even tougher to cope with because the one person I wanted to turn to for help was the person who needed my support. Slowly but surely the dynamics of our relationship were shifting from equal partners to me being a carer.

By early 2009, we agreed Rebecca would stop working. The constant job losses were getting her down. Relying on my income as a council worker was a stretch, but I knew it was the right thing.

Soon afterwards - still determined to find out what was happening - we went to a specialist hospital for a series of scans. One showed that Rebecca's brain had shrunk slightly, but they were inconclusive.

By spring 2009, I didn't feel safe leaving Rebecca by herself. I got phone calls at work from my friends, saying they'd seen her in the town centre looking dishevelled and panicked. I was terrified something might happen to her. I couldn't afford to give up my job so my parents offered to look after Rebecca while I was at work.

The tests continued and a few weeks into the summer, a doctor said she should see a dementia specialist. I was shocked. Dementia was something that happened to old people, not my young wife. There was no history of it in her family. We wanted a diagnosis, but not that.

I was still trying to get my head around the idea, when a routine urine test showed that Rebecca was eight weeks pregnant. It was a total shock.

Between episodes of forgetfulness, Rebecca and I had still been intimate. She was still the woman I loved.

The timing couldn't have been worse. Rebecca was freaked out. She understood she was carrying a baby, but she also knew she was unwell.

A month later, results of a lumbar puncture to her spine revealed that Rebecca had Familial Alzheimer's, a form of early-onset dementia which can be hereditary and causes rapid memory loss. It's rare and there's no known cure.

Finally, I had to face up to the fact the woman I married was never coming back. I was devastated. Until that moment, I'd nursed the hope that something could be done, but now I knew that while Rebecca was still here, everything that made her who she was - her laugh, her smile - was gone. Rebecca's face became vacant. Her beautiful blue eyes appeared dead - I could no longer tell how she felt any more. It was bewildering. She looked fit and healthy, and yet she was anything but. Alzheimer's is like a form of death. If it hadn't been for the baby, I couldn't have coped.

But our unborn baby raised further issues: there was a 50 per cent chance our child would inherit Rebecca's rogue gene and face the same fate. Together with her parents, Brian and Cheryl, I made the decision to get our unborn baby tested. To our relief, the test came back clear.

As Rebecca's stomach grew bigger, her state of mind deteriorated. Soon, she could no longer hold a conversation or do anything other than very basic things such as shower and brush her teeth.

I cared for her 24/7 and only when she was asleep did I let myself cry. Life as I knew it changed beyond all recognition.

After Christmas, I found a respite centre for old people with dementia. They were happy to offer Rebecca a few hours care each day. It was heartbreaking, but I had no choice.

On the first day, Rebecca had a rare moment of clarity. 'This is my life now,' she said her eyes locking on to mine. And in that moment, my heart melted with sadness. It killed me that she could see where her life was going and there was nothing I could do.

Emily was born by Caesarean section on April 6, 2010. I cried with relief at her safe arrival. Yet it was hard to know whether Rebecca knew she'd had a baby. She held her, but didn't smile. I have no idea if she can feel love any more, but it's not her fault.

Today, Emily is healthy and strong, with Rebecca's eyes and smile. But as I watch my beautiful daughter grow and flourish, her mother deteriorates before me.

I so desperately want to share all the milestones of our daughter's life, but I can't. For Rebecca, the parts of her brain that control memory, desire and affection have gone. She can't convey emotion, although sometimes I've seen her smile at Emily. Those fleeting moments are magical, but all too brief. But she does love to cuddle Emily and they do have a bond. One side effect of her condition is that Rebecca's arms aren't strong enough to hold Emily, but I prop her on a pillow next to Rebecca so they can be close.

Now, as I Iook after Emily, I care for Rebecca. I have to dress her and make sure she brushes her teeth. I can't leave her alone for more than a minute in case she wanders off. I'm lucky in that my employer has given me several months off work, but after that I'll have to rely on a team of carers to help me. It's going to be hard, as Rebecca trusts me implicitly.

I try not to think about the future. When Rebecca was diagnosed, doctors said she had five years left at most. I keep hoping that she'll be around to be part of Emily's life.

I've had some dark moments and there have been times when I've thought: 'Why me, why us?' I miss the woman I fell in love with every day. Although there are times when I find it hard to cope, I still love my wife deeply. When we got married, it was for better or for worse. I'm going to keep that promise."

For more information about Scott and Rebecca, visit Doigfundraiser.com.au

'My dream job landed me in jail'

Sunburn and insect bites aren’t the only things to worry about on holiday. British women are being increasingly targeted by traffickers who plant drugs in their luggage or in gifts. You didn’t know, so you won’t be in trouble, right? Wrong, as Terry Daniels, 36, discovered...

By Laura Millar, 18/07/2010

The day my little sister got married was one we'd planned out years before. She wore a gorgeous long, white, fitted gown and carried a stunning lily bouquet. She said her vows in front of her nearest and dearest at the tiny church in the village of Wingave, Bucks, where we'd grown up. There was just one person missing from Kelly's special day me.

Instead of being there, I was holed up in a filthy Spanish jail, serving a 10-year sentence for drug smuggling; ending my dream of living and working in Tenerife.

It sounds incredible, but the Spanish authorities convicted me on the basis of an innocent diary entry referring to an insurance claim I was expecting to receive. They thought it was money I was going to get from drug trafficking.

I spent the next 12 years fighting to clear my name. Even now, I feel appalled at my naivety.

Terry (left) missed her sister Kelly's wedding

I was sentenced along with nightclub owner, Antonio Benavides, then 42. He was a well-known businessman and had poached me from my old job doing PR for a nightclub in Tenerife after offering me better wages. Then he suggested I accompany him on a business trip to Brazil. He told me he'd bought two tickets, and at the last minute his wife had unexpected work commitments and couldn't go. We'd have separate rooms and he insisted it was above board. Not wanting to turn down a free holiday, I agreed. It was the worst decision I've ever made.

A week later, in June 1997, we jetted off. There wasn't much to do so I sunbathed by the pool every day while he went off for his 'business meetings'. I didn't suspect anything shady - I was just enjoying my break. A few days into our trip, Antonio showed up carrying two flashy new suitcases. Unknown to me, they were fitted with false bottoms and were filled with nearly 4kg of cocaine, then worth over £1million.

We flew back to Tenerife, changing flights at Gran Canaria. We were stopped at the airport and searched as part of routine checks. My case was clear, so I wasn't worried, but a few minutes later, two officers marched me into an airless interview room. On the table was Antonio's luggage. The base of one of the cases had been broken into and white powder was scattered all over the table. I froze. Drugs. Antonio kept telling them it was nothing to do with me. I was dragged off to another room. I'd never been in trouble before, so I didn't think to ask for a lawyer.

Terry's mum, Pat, has been a rock to her

I spent the night in the small, dingy room. The next morning; the guards hammered on the door and I was taken for questioning. With the help of a translator, I explained which suitcase was mine, why I was on holiday with Antonio and how I knew him. I kept repeating the drugs were nothing to do with me. Then I was told that we were being taken to court the next day. As they locked me in a cell in the local police station, I couldn't stop crying. I knew I was innocent but I was being treated like a criminal and I was scared.

I was charged with importation and possession with intent to supply, and my bail was posted at £3,000. In Spain, you have to pay it or stay in jail. There was only one person I knew would help me: Mum. I'd borrowed someone's phone card so I only had enough time to blurt: 'Mum, I'm in prison in Spain - I need money for bail,' between my sobs. She was shell-shocked, but said she'd sort it and fly out as soon as she could. Then I was cut off.

Five days later, my bail was paid and I was released, but ordered to stay in Spain. I went back to my apartment in Tenerife and my mum, Pat, flew out to be with me. In tears, I explained what had happened. Like me, Mum was convinced it was one big mistake on the part of the authorities.

Mum helped me hire a lawyer and he thought my case was clear cut. There was no evidence against me, so it was unlikely I'd go to prison. I'd simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

It took 10 months for the case to be heard at court. Luckily, during that time I was able to waitress at a friend's restaurant. In court I was asked the same questions as when I'd first been arrested and didn't get to hear the evidence against me. It was tough keeping track of the proceedings.

Terry in Tenerife before her arrest

My Spanish was sketchy and I had no translator. My lawyer didn't even speak, and told me it was because they hadn't put up a case against me - I figured that was a good thing. Back at my apartment as I was preparing to go home, my lawyer called. The verdict was in. I'd been found guilty and sentenced to 10 years. Antonio pleaded guilty and received the same sentence. I couldn't believe it. I'd done nothing wrong - Antonio had told the judges that - yet I was looking at spending a decade of my life in a foreign jail.

It turned out that my conviction had been based on my diary, which the police had confiscated. In it I'd written: 'What am I going to do with all the money?' I was owed £4,500 compensation for a car accident. The authorities had interpreted it as money I was to receive from drug trafficking. But I was never given the chance to explain.

The solicitor told me that he'd appealed the decision and I had 'conditional liberty', meaning that I didn't have to stay in jail. The Spanish authorities held my passport, so I couldn't leave the country, but with a criminal record it wasn't easy to find work.

The Spanish prison

Back home, Mum contacted our local MP in the UK, John Bercow. He asked for the Government's support in getting me a pardon. In 2000, he got a response from the Spanish ambassador to say I'd been released 'without readmission', which everyone took to mean I could return to the UK. I managed to get a new passport, and booked a flight home.

Back home with Mum and Dad, the sense of relief was incredible. After three years of stress, I'd lost my confidence and didn't want to go out much. Then my dad was diagnosed with cancer of the oesophagus, and died in June 2001. It was an incredibly unhappy and difficult time. Determined to move forward, I found a flat and applied for a job as a carer. But to my shock, I was told that a background check found my conviction was 'outstanding'. I couldn't believe it, and got in touch with Fair Trials Abroad, who said they'd investigate. I was relieved and thought they'd sort out the mistake.

But two weeks later, three police officers from Scotland Yard arrived with an arrest warrant from Interpol, triggered by the background check. They explained that I was to be extradited to Spain to begin my sentence - I'd thought it was all over.

In prison June 2006

I was devastated. I had just two days to prepare. It was heartbreaking. Saying goodbye to Mum and my sister Kelly, and leaving my life and freedom for something I hadn't done, crushed me. On the flight to Spain, I was accompanied by six Interpol officers. I'm still not sure why they sent so many - it felt a bit like overkill. I was too stunned to even cry as they took me to a holding prison in Madrid, then transferred me to Topas prison in Salamanca, western Spain.

Within a week, I'd gone from living in my own flat to sharing a prison cell with a Dutch woman who'd also been jailed for importing drugs. I felt like I was stuck in a bad movie. My days dragged. I'd get up, eat a bread roll, then walk around the yard, have lunch, then write letters home. I mixed with the other prisoners when I had to, but tried to keep to myself.

Life in prison was volatile. It was a mixed jail, with men locked up for rape and women for prostitution and fraud. Fights were commonplace. I just tried to keep my head down. The days went by slowly; I'd read books and watch TV. My mum visited regularly but we could only speak through a telephone system with a pane of glass separating us. Friends and family sent regular letters, which helped. As the days turned to weeks and my sentence stretched out in front of me, despair took over. During my darkest hours I felt I'd rather not be alive than have to suffer this. Thoughts of my Mum and my family kept a flicker of fight alive inside me. I lived for the visits, letters and phone calls.

When I was forced to go back to Spain, I'd applied to serve my sentence in the UK. After 14 months, permission was finally granted. I was flown back to the UK, first to Holloway prison in north London, then to Cookham Wood in Kent and finally to an open prison, East Sutton Park. Conditions were better, my family could visit easily and at least everyone spoke English. I did some educational courses and hoped that one day I'd be free.

After 12 years of support from lawyers, MPs, the media and organisations like Prisoners Abroad and Fair Trials Abroad, I secured a partial pardon in December 2008, reducing my sentence to six years. On January 29, 2009, after serving three years and three months, I was allowed home. I ran to the phone and asked my mum to pick me up. She got there at 7pm and gave me a hug. We were both in tears - but so happy that I was free.

Terry is still fighting to clear her name

Adjusting to life on the outside has been tough. For the first few months, I was a nervous wreck. I couldn't leave my mum's side, and felt overwhelmed by the simplest things, like doing the grocery shopping. Friends were brilliant, spending time with me and being supportive. I've had counselling too. I'm not bitter, because I think that's a waste of time but sometimes I get upset about the life I've lost.

I'm single now, but would love a relationship one day. I'm not ready yet. I'm still fighting to clear my name and will be able to apply through the Spanish courts, 10 years after my release, in 2019. Until then I'm training to be a counsellor, so I can help others. I made one stupid decision that wrecked my life. If talking about my experience helps one person avoid going through what my family went through, I'll be happy.

Innocents abroad?

• Last year, Prisoners Abroad supported 146 women held on drugs charges outside the UK, 51 per cent in South America and the Caribbean and 19 per cent in EU countries.

• In July 2007, two 16-year-old schoolgirls from north London were found guilty of trying to smuggle cocaine from Ghana to the UK. Yasemin Vatansever and Yatunde Diya were arrested after they were found with laptop bags containing 6kg of cocaine. They claimed they didn't know about the drugs, but had been asked by two men to collect the bags for £3,000. They served one year in a correctional facility in Ghana and came back to the UK in July 2008.

• Mum of four Laura Makin, 32, from Liverpool, went on holiday to Venezuela in March 2009 with her estranged husband, Paul. Unknown to her, he'd done a deal to smuggle drugs. At the airport, 24kg of cocaine, worth £1.2million, was discovered in his bag. Laura could face 10 years in jail, while Paul pleaded guilty and is serving eight years.

What happened when we gave five women an ultimate makeover...

When Ultimo lingerie founder Michelle Mone launched a new range of couture frocks, she wanted 14 ‘real’ women to advertise them. We treated a select few of them to an A-list transformation...

By Laura Millar, 11/07/2010

Taking over the first floor of a central London townhouse, a team of make-up artists, hairdressers and stylists is in full swing, getting the models camera-ready. This is a fashion shoot with a difference: today's models are real women, with real bodies. Aged 20-53, they range from size 8-16 and they all celebrate their shape. The idea is down to Michelle Mone, 38, mum and self-made millionaire, thanks to her successful Ultimo lingerie range.

"We've always used celebrities in our campaigns," she says. "But I get thousands of letters from ladies asking why we don't use them. And I'm a size 12, with hips, boobs and a bum. I thought: 'Why not?'"

When Michelle announced this on Facebook in May, she was inundated with applications. She says: "It was hard to select 14 women, but they represent what it is to be 'real'. They prove you don't have to be 18 and a size 6 to look glam." Meet five of the women reshaping our views on body image.

Michelle (centre) with her 14 body heroes

'You don't have to be a size zero to look good'

Claire Hill, 25, is an HR officer. She lives in Doncaster with her boyfriend Gavin, 27, and is a size 10. She says:

"Even though I'm a regular size 10, when I found out that I would be wearing a bodycon dress for today's shoot, I have to admit I was pretty worried.

My first thought was that my hips were going to look huge in something so tight! I hate my hips and have many of the same body hang-ups as any other woman. Thankfully, I love the dress and how I look in it. It just proves that you shouldn't be ashamed of your curves. And you don't have to be a size zero to look good.

I would say that I'm representative of all the real women out there. I hold down a full-time job, I come home after work most nights feeling quite tired, and I think it's important to try to make time for myself, for my boyfriend and for our friends and family. After all, that's the most important thing in life."

'I've got wobbly bits - who hasn't'

Margaret Dunsmuir, 45, is an office administrator from Rutherglen in Lanarkshire. She is divorced, has three sons aged 25, 23, and 18, and is a size 14. She says:

"I've been through my fair share of stress over the years. With one son in the Army and another in the Navy, as a mother you constantly worry. That's why I don't obsess too much about my body - I've got a few wobbly bits, but who hasn't?

I was 2st heavier last year, I've lost it gradually by going for lots of long walks - I walk for at least an hour, two or three times a week.

People think that once you get to 40, you're past it, but I think you can look good, regardless of your age. It's how you feel about yourself that matters. Whenever I see an item of clothing on a model, I tend to think: 'Well, of course it looks good on her - she doesn't have a real body!' But I do think women look better with a fuller figure. Everyone should celebrate the shape they are, as long as they're healthy."

'I'm realistic about my body and the way I look'

Emma Broadbent, 32, is a marketing manager. She lives with her fiancé in Leeds and is a size 10. She says:

"When I was younger, I was more susceptible to images of women's bodies in adverts and on TV. If I tried on a dress, I'd look in the mirror and hear a little voice in my head saying: 'I wish I had longer legs' or 'I wish my boobs were bigger.' But you get more self-confidence as you get older. I stay healthy by doing yoga, running and dancing. Now, I'm more realistic. I know everyone's different and that's just the way it is."

'Beauty comes from making yourself feel good'

Hayley Matthews, 29, is a radio presenter from Edinburgh, and is a size 16. She says:

"I'm not a conventional model. I'm 5ft 5in and a size 16, but real women don't have perfect figures - we're all completely different shapes and sizes. I believe that beauty comes from making yourself feel good and doing the best with what you have. I think women should support each other, which is what I always try to do on my radio show. I give advice and share my embarrassing stories.

For example, I wouldn't normally wear a figure-hugging dress like this because I once got stuck in a tight dress when I was trying it on in a shop - and I especially wouldn't usually wear a satin one! But it's actually really comfortable. I feel like Nigella Lawson on today's shoot, which is great as she's one of my role models! I've always tried to embrace my curves, and if no one else likes my big bum, it's tough, because I do."

'Seeing women who are just like me is a real boost'

Annemarie Knox, 48, is a school administrator from Clydebank in Dunbartonshire. She is separated, has two daughters aged 24 and 18, and is a size 12. She says:

"When I found out that I'd been chosen for the campaign, I was nervous. I've never done anything like this before.

I'm just a normal mum who's had problems in my life, like when I needed an emergency hysterectomy in 2002 after an operation to remove a cyst on my ovary, as well as the breakdown of my marriage in 2007. I lost a lot of self-esteem as a result, but with the support of family and friends, I got through it. I think the fanciest frock I've ever worn before today was my wedding dress! Women should have positive role models and not just be judged on their dress size."

• Ultimo Couture is available exclusively from Debenhams and Debenhams.com, priced £100-£300, in sizes 8-18.
  

Looking good! Michelle (centre) and the girls after their ultimate makeovers

Welcome to teen dads' school

Teenage fathers are absent good-for-nothings, right? Wrong. They want to raise their kids, they just don’t know how...

By Lucy Bulmer, 20/06/2010

The smell of aftershave lingers in the small room as more than a dozen teenage lads dressed in baggy jeans and T-shirts shuffle towards a row of shabby-looking chairs.

Aged between 16 and 19, every one of them is, or is about to be, a teen dad. Taking centre stage is Jordan Carter, 16, who is fastening a nappy on to a life-sized baby doll. He finishes with a deft flourish. "Who's next?" he grins, as the next candidate steps forward.

This is just one of the practical lessons on a course run by Barnardo's and Newcastle City Council to help teenage boys develop the skills they need to cope with a baby.

The boys get some 'dad' lessons from Kenneth Pervis

One of the pupils is Callum Phillips. He was just 15 when his 16-year-old girlfriend, Sam Graham, discovered she was pregnant. Careless with contraception, they presumed they wouldn't get caught out. "I never planned to be a young dad," Callum, says. "So when it happened, I had no idea what to do."

The couple discussed abortion, but decided to keep their child. And Callum soon discovered that the transition from carefree schoolboy to dad wasn't easy.

"Initially, I didn't think about the baby at all," he confesses. "I spent most nights hanging around the streets with my mates, drinking and smoking cannabis. I had no plans for the future, no ambition and no clue about kids. Looking back, I was really scared."

He went with Sam to her 12-week scan, at a special unit for young mums. There he met Norman Nur, Newcastle's young fathers' support worker. He explained about his 'school' for teen dads.

In the past three years, Norman's courses have helped almost 100 teen boys prepare for fatherhood - the youngest was just 15. His weekly workshops cover everything from nappy changing to managing a family budget and understanding post-natal depression.

As well as the baby basics, the lads also get help and support with finding a home for their family, returning to education and getting a job.

While the public perception of teenage dads is that of wasters and hoodies, who leave the girls holding the baby, Norman insists the reality couldn't be more different.

"Research shows many young dads actively want to be involved in their children's lives," Norman explains. "But the majority of support for young parents focuses on mums. The lads are often sidelined, making them feel uninvolved and ultimately unnecessary.

"I want them to understand that they're just as important as the mother in their child's life. They have a vital role to play and by acknowledging them, boosting their self-esteem and confidence, they're more likely to rise to the role."

Callum with Natalia

The first obstacle Norman often faces is the boys themselves. "At first, I didn't want to go on the course," Callum says. "I thought it would be a waste of time. But Norman talked me round. And I'm glad he did. I've learnt so much about being a good dad, and meeting the other lads really helped."

One of eight children, Callum's parents separated when he was 13. He has had a good relationship with his dad - something he wanted to emulate with his child and which started when his daughter Natalia was born.

"Norman explained it was going to be messy and loud and that I'd have to see Sam in pain," Callum, now 18, says. "If it hadn't been for those lessons, I might have been shocked. Instead, I was calm, confident and able to support Sam."

In the delivery suite, Callum discovered that he still faced prejudice as a young dad. Many of the boys in the group have had experience of midwives ignoring them as well as other support staff dismissing them.

Callum cut Natalia's umbilical cord

When Natalia was finally born after 27 hours of labour on April 2, 2008, weighing 8lb 15oz, Callum cut the cord.

"When I held her in my arms she looked so beautiful and I kept thinking: 'I made her.' It was an incredible feeling."

But even with all his preparation, the reality was tough. "Getting up in the night is the hardest thing," he says. "I'd learnt on the course that it would be difficult, but Natalia woke every few hours for months. Sam and I took alternate nights caring for her, but it was hard."

Norman's seen this many times before. "No matter how much you talk about it, you can never really be prepared for the sleeplessness and the round-the-clock responsibility," he says.

The course also helps the boys understand how a baby can change the relationship with their partners.

"It's important that whether the boys are with the baby's mother or not, that they can have a good relationship with her," Norman says. "One of our key roles is mediation, so if there are problems, they can be worked through."

The oldest member of the group is Kenneth Pervis, 28. He had his first child at 18, and he and his girlfriend Angela have since had four more, including premature twins who sadly died aged just 27 weeks.

He is studying to become a youth worker and acts as a mentor.

"This group is a lifeline for most of the lads here," he explains. "It helped me through my issues, including losing the twins, which was the toughest time of my life.

"There's lots of happiness in parenthood, but I think if most lads knew what the realities of becoming a dad so young are, they wouldn't do it."

The youngest in the group is 16-year-old Jordan Carter. He was 14 when his girlfriend, Natasha, now 19, fell pregnant.

"I was more scared of what Natasha's mum would say than I was of becoming a dad," he remembers. "She stopped speaking to me for a while. But Natasha and I stayed together. My daughter Chanelle is 21 months old now and she's perfect. If I had the chance, I'd have waited until I was a bit older to have had her. But I can't regret what happened.

"I want to get an apprenticeship. I'm not sure what in yet, but I want to work for my daughter."

Unemployed Callum feels the same way. "I don't miss my old life," he says. "But I wouldn't recommend anyone having a baby so young. It's not ideal. Things would have been so much harder without the course. I'd still have tried my best, but it's been a lot easier with the confidence I've got now."

Callum, who has moved in with Sam, now 19, finds the course so useful, he still attends weekly. "Being a father is a full-time lesson," he says. "At the group I get help and advice about housing, keeping on top of money, finding work. I also talk over things and tell the other dads what its like."

The course is the first of its kind in the UK and last month was recognised for its work by the British Journal of Midwifery Awards. Other local authorities and charities are now looking to Norman to help roll out similar courses across the country.

"These lads need people to not judge them negatively. We need to give them the skills to make the best of the difficult situation they find themselves in," says Norman.

'I was just a kid myself- how could I be a dad?'

Adam O'Moore, 20, and his fiancée Mel Hulse, 19, are parents to 14-month-old Megan and live in Gateshead.

Adam says: ''I was stunned when Mel told me she was pregnant. We'd only been together three months and had always been careful to use condoms. I was just 18 and Mel was 17, but neither of us ever considered a termination, we didn't even discuss it.

I used to spend my time hanging around street corners with my mates till all hours of the morning, doing drugs and drinking, with no thought for the future. But as soon as I found out I was going to be a dad, I went straight down to the JobCentre and got work as a night porter in a hotel, and then I tried to get a flat. I kept thinking: 'I'm just a kid myself, how can I become a father?' Then I met Norman and joined the dads' group.

During her pregnancy, Mel became very emotional and used to fly off the handle a lot, which was tough. Just talking to the other dads about how stressed their partners were while expecting really helped - I understood I had to support her, not get annoyed myself.

The birth was really emotional. I was crying and shaking so much when Megan was born that I couldn't cut the cord! She weighed 7lb 6oz and was absolutely gorgeous.

Adam, Mel and Megan

I'd never even held a baby before I had Megan - and I was so scared I wouldn't know what to do. The course made me realise all dads feel the same - it wasn't just me! And being taught basic things like how to make up bottles and sterilise them properly and how to stay calm when your baby cries, really helped.

I don't see the mates I used to hang around with anymore. They're still doing the same stuff, wandering round the streets till the early hours of the morning and drinking. Now I'd rather be home with Mel and Megan. If it hadn't been for Megan - and Norman's support - I'd still be doing that too. I'd probably have fallen into crime as well. They saved me from that."

Mel says: "When I found out I was pregnant, I was scared to tell Adam, as I didn't know how he'd react, I worried he might want to split up. But he was excited, and I was so pleased.

The group really built his confidence. He'd often talk to me about what he was learning - he was really excited and even brought leaflets home about baby massage. He's a really good dad, and together we make a great team."

• For more information about Barnado's work visit Barnados.org.uk.

THE EXPERT

Adrienne Burgess, head of research at The Fatherhood Institute, says teen dads deserve better.

"We estimate there are around 120,000 teen dads in the UK. The idea that young men will clear off as soon as their girlfriends discover they're pregnant is wide of the mark. Most desperately want to stay close to their child.

Most teenage parents come from disadvantaged backgrounds so they may not have the skills to maintain successful relationships. If they don't have help to develop them, they tend to give up. It's not just the practicalities of changing a nappy teen dads need support with. As many of the boys were raised without a father, they don't know how to be a good dad.

Most groups focus on teen mums. The lads don't have that support, but boys need the chance to prove themselves and learn the skills they need to be the fathers they want - and deserve - to be."

• For more information, see Fatherhoodinstitute.org.