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The day with 2014

on Jan 1, 2014

Well, look who’s crawled out of the arse-end of 2013 and blogging a’fresh, like every other two-bit blogger in the blogosphere? I know. I have no shame. How are you then? Keeping well? Your hair looks fab, by the way. Have you lost weight? Insert other niceties here, and I’ll gloss over the startling absence – again – with hot, stabby nonchalance. If I told you I’ll miss 2013 I’d by lying. I know. The end of 2012? It wasn’t great. But I spent a huge part of 2013 (probably) clinically depressed, self-medicating with chocolate and tears and struggling to get out of bed. The tail end of 2012 was crap, but it was in 2013 where I hit rock bottom. Thankfully, I’m on the up again now; I have a job, steady writing work, and the promise of other things twinkling in my not-too-distant future. But I’ll always remember 2013 for the turd...

The day I was just rubbish at this

on Sep 3, 2013

I know. I suck. I’m awful. I’m the world’s worst blogger. Just let me get this week out of the way, okay? Day job (summary: it’s good), part-time job (long story: more next time), writing job (LOADS of work has fallen into my lap – typical), parenting job (my favourite job of all) – all are conspiring to make writing here the world’s biggest challenge. I try to find fifteen minutes in the day to get back into the swing of things, but it’s so bloody hard. I’m routinely collapsing in a heap at eight, and usually asleep by half nine. Stamina. I have none. I have two deadlines looming, but once they’re out of the way, I’ll come back. I promise. Until then: how are you doing, kiddo? And the family? Work? Tell me all about it …

on Sep 2, 2013

It is never too late to be what you might have been.

George Eliot

Protected: The day things were looking up

on Jul 29, 2013

If the post here is protected, it’s probably because I’m ranting about something (read: someone) in my life and am trying to spare feelings. You don’t have to miss out, though. Providing we’re somewhat acquainted (but don’t share DNA), you can ask for the password on my contact page!

The day we pretended to be grown-ups

on Jul 22, 2013

Kids and dogs make home improvement so laborious. In the last ten years, our small-but-perfectly formed little house has … well, declined. You know the kind of thing. The scuff marks by the front door – the kind of marks that would’ve sent me hurling into a cycle of shame and embarrassment pre-motherhood – now get darker and darker, until the hallway looks more like a railway tunnel than the entrance to a (mostly) habitable home. The lounge carpet – originally only tolerated until we could lay oak flooring, darling – today looks less endless sky blue, and more cesspool blue. There was a time I cared about all this stuff. That time is not now. We made some in-roads a couple of months back – painted the hall, stairs and landing, sanded and repainted skirting boards, that sort of thing – but we lost focus, and our efforts tailed off. M, as...

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