These are the days that we came here for. When the sun warms our bedroom at the top of the house while the dawn chorus works itself up to an orchestral cacophony. And we dig out the sun cream from the dusty recess of the bathroom cabinet, noting the changes to tiny pudgy hands and
I have come to a reluctant acceptance that it is impossible to plan a quiet Christmas Day . No matter how much I swear to be steadfast & stubborn, defending our wish to stay home alone December 25th, our plans inevitably tangle up like forgotten fairy lights. So many other people’s hopes and plans are wrapped up in our own,
Ok, it’s not snappy – but it’s surprisingly true. There will be times when someone is inexplicably rude or mean or condescending, and you cannot figure out why. A girl at school who consistently picks on you; an older woman at work who does all she can to keep you down. “They’re just jealous“, people
At the start of the month we visited Barcelona, albeit very briefly, for my elder sister’s wedding. Because of R’s job in education, and because I point-blank refuse to spend time with my family without my backup team around, we flew out on the morning of the wedding & had to head back after only a day-and-a-half.
I love this stage. Her vocabulary is sophisticated enough to spill all her thoughts out, & it’s fascinating stuff. Where before I kept a running list of adorable misspoken or invented words, now I find myself tapping entire conversations into my iPhone notes. I can’t bear to forget. You used to be inside my tummy Orla. Do
We’ve been writing a lot of letters to Matilda. Cards, mainly – ‘I know! Let’s make a card for Tilly and send it with the postman’, as we come through the door after another long day. So, we sit at the kitchen table and pull out the glitter and glue. Stickers are stuck, envelopes stuffed.
Technically it’s still a month or so off traditional British bonfire season, but this time of year it’s still warm enough to be tempted outdoors for an early sunset. What is it about a bonfire that is so pleasurable to watch? We have an open fire at home most nights, but the novelty of flickering
Dear Orla, I have been strong and I have been weak, and I have learnt that these words do not mean what we think. Before you were born, I cried easily; a confrontation with friends, a passing criticism at work. I once cried at an episode of Supermarket Sweep, because I was just so happy
A couple of weeks back, on a day punctuated by sudden, soaking downpours, I dragged poor James Melia out to a ruined barn in the middle of the moors. I’d spotted it from the road months ago – in particular, that arched doorway. I get a greedy, coveting sensation when I see an amazing photo