I sit down, cup of tea and laptop in front of me, and I start tapping away. Usually I’ll begin with the novel I’ve been writing for about five years, thrashing out a scene between two central characters, which, invariably, … Continue reading
We’ve moved house recently, and I have to say that, without a doubt, it was one of the most stressful things I’ve ever done. The expectation of how it will be (like clockwork – smooth and stress free) was dramatically … Continue reading
At a recent trip to a toy store I witnessed a G-force-strength tantrum over a Woody doll. The mother was attempting, and failing, to wrestle her whirlwind offspring into his buggy while around them other parents stared aghast at the … Continue reading
I wonder if previous generations look to bygone days as often as we do? After all, nostalgia is a hot topic at the moment as shown in our increasing interest in vintage clothing and bouffant hairdos, antique furniture and aged … Continue reading
My phone pings, it’s another text from a friend. We’ve been playing text ping pong since 8 0’clock this morning and each time I reply to her I feel just a little bit guilty that I’m not actually talking to her face to face or over the telephone. I’ve come to realise that I’m actually putting my household chores in order of importance over her.
It seems only yesterday I was in my 30s, pre-Vertbaudet, pre-pampers and blissfully unaware of those little pump syringes that suck the mucus out of babies’ congested noses. Before I know it I’m hurtling towards my 40th so rapidly that I barely notice the two kids popping out or the ring being put upon my finger. I realise it is thirty years since I bopped around the living room to Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller’ – Thirty Whole Years!
I nudge my husband who is knee deep in ‘cyber world’. “Hey,” I say, “what shall we have for dinner tonight?”
He looks across to me blankly, then something dawns and his face lights up. “I’m sure there’s an App for that,” he mutters. A quick flick and he’s downloaded something on the iPad. I wouldn’t mind but everything I ask, every discussion we have, turns, in one way or another, into an opportunity for him to gaze at one of the many screens that adorn our home.
My four-year-old will be going to school in September. I am both dreading it and looking forward to it, and it has brought up a number of issues that I would have preferred to avoid.
I put the key in the lock of the front door, having dropped off my two boys at preschool. The house is deadly quiet but for the gentle hush of traffic out yonder. It always seems odd somehow without the boys. I make a pot of tea and take a moment, starring at nothing. I am returning to me – not mummy, not wife, not cleaner or cook, just me.
One couldn’t say that my dress sense is inspiring. I am not a dedicated follower of fashion in any sense of the word. The closest I get to fashion is running my tongue along the window of New Look.
psychoblab 