It’s definitely in the blood – my grandfather grew up beside it, my mum wouldn’t go away anywhere without it, and my siblings are the same.  When I’m at my lowest or grumpiest point, my husband often takes us all to the coast.  There, I let the view wash over me, smashing down my anger,…

He was always in stitches at something, you know the face creased up, tears coming, body bent, hands gripping stomach, no noise coming out kind of laughter.  I’d only joked that I was thinking of sending the kids up the chimney to clean it, not exactly side-splittingly funny, but there he was, laughing his leg…

I’ve hummed and hawed over writing this down for a few days now, until something I read set me free. What led up to this was a weekend of walking the streets of London.  My legs have been weak and unsteady for four years now, but I was convinced that I could soldier on.  It…

Maybe it’s because it’s January.  You’ve got all the hype and brightness of Christmas, and then, you’re dragged mercilessly into the gloomy drudge of getting up in the dark, being busy with whatever duties you have day in, day out, and then coming home in the dark, passing an evening feeling wrecked and talking about…

I’ve been thinking about the word ‘twee’ today, and how frequently it is associated with all things Christian.  It started when I was looking over my longer story (I won’t give it the grand name of novel yet), checking for anything too frothy or florally, wanting to make sure it was real enough.  It’s a…

I listened to two songs today, one after the other, both about heaven.  In the first, heaven was a thunderous place, full of exultantly singing angels.  In the second, it was the face of a little girl, the singer’s daughter who was killed when she was very small, and an expressed anticipation of seeing her…

I experienced two events yesterday morning: the first, a visit to great-grandparents where a quirky collection of toys were brought down, including a Russian doll set of Lenin, Stalin, Gorbachev and Kruschev (I think), and two pencils with some post-its.  We spent a peaceful 3/4 hour as the children drew and delivered sweet notes to…

I had this memory today when watching an episode of Garfield, of sitting at our kitchen table when I was about six, and my dad teaching me how to spell the word ‘procrastination’.  There will have been reasons for his choice of word – probably I had provoked it – but I can’t remember them…

Kneading 6 pizzas-worth of dough, with today’s dinner in the oven and tomorrow’s on the hob, it dawned on me that, perhaps,  I was doing too many things at once. Sadly, this is what I’m like: a little thought sneaks into my head about how happy I would feel if I got such and such…