Writing to me, is simply thinking through your fingers ~ Isaac Isamov
Someone asked me recently why I don’t really ever post photos of myself anywhere. This. This is why. I know my limitations, but admittedly I frequently indulge in outrageously sexy pics other people post.. Salivating. I have reached an unexpected stage in my parenting career where I have found myself with a modicum of time…
I have started running. And blogging too again, apparently. I have never had myself down as being a runner. Too many bits of me seem to move independently and require strapping down. Then there is my unladylike gait. And the thought of me in leggings…the thought of other people having to see me in leggings…it just…
It’s now seven weeks into the build and we are all absolutely exhausted. Yes, of course, the prospect of living in an environment infinitely nicer than our previous one, particularly minus the anaglypta wallpaper and omnipresent smell of granny (think carpet underlay) is very exciting – but the process of achieving a vision of semi-detached perfection…
OK, so blogging every day was perhaps a tad unrealistic, particularly given that the sun has been putting in a lot of appearances lately, and every part of my being just wants to burst into song, frolic amongst ears of wheat, and run through the hills sporting an Austrian girdle. Do you get that? Sun…
For Mother’s Day I was given an annual pass to our local wildlife park, and Kate and I visit often (the gardens particularly are so beautiful). Kate’s obsession is the little train that does a circuit of the park, and we have made it a tradition now to catch a ride before heading home….
You’ve got to sing like you don’t need the money, Love like you’ll never get hurt, You’ve got to dance like nobody’s watchin’, It’s gotta come from the heart if you want it to work. Susanne Clarke and Richard Leigh I do. A short post a day to keep me in check and to see…
Yesterday I met up with my dear friend Helen and her daughter (and my adopted niece) Emily, for a visit to see the ‘fishes’ at the London Aquarium. It was wonderful to see them both, and as is always the case, Emily had grown up beyond all recognition and kept me in constant fits of…
I have always been a dreamer, and today all I can dream of is Paris. My only visit was with Neil the weekend before we moved into our first house. Or rather I helped Neil move into his first house and never left. A minor detail. We stayed at a tiny hotel in a windy…
In approximately a week’s time my beloved and I were set to pack our lives into suitcases, give our house keys to some select strangers in return for rent money, and move to the United States of America. Boston, in fact. One however can not always foresee the visa application process not following its intended…
This Tuesday I handed in my last ever piece of coursework at Uni (see above) marking the end of an epic battle with deadlines that has consumed my very existence for the past two years. Ok – so I still have a dissertation to write – but no longer will I have to rise at…