Mother’s Day.

We have a chequered history, Mother’s Day and I. My first and second were right shitters, if we’re being honest.


Homes away from home

Most of us, if we’re lucky, had at least one friend during our young life whose house became a home away from home, whose parents became surrogates, whose siblings were just as infuriating as our own.

Each to their own?

In this age of individuality, where subjectivity is King and anyone’s opinion and perspective is as valid and correct as anyone else’s, it seems like we’ve lost sight of the fact that there are, indeed, facts. Things that cannot really be contested, no matter who you are and what your experience may be.

So wrong

Activewear enthusiasts, I have judged you harshly. And I was wrong.

How it was.

You’re sitting through one of those excruciating meetings that should have been an email. Its topic is something that you care little about, and that matters in the grand scheme of things not at all.


Last week I made a life changing decision.

No exaggeration. Life. Changing.

Small Moments. Small things.

Something that has struck me, simple and yet profound, is the fact that even though my nightly route doesn’t change, I almost always notice some new detail or variation or fragment of beauty as I walk along.


The wee lad’s sick.


Ear infection.


Otherwise, you’re asking for it.

‘This piece of clothing prevents sexual assault.’ Umm, no it doesn’t.

You know what prevents sexual assault? People not sexually assaulting other people.

Men deciding that they don’t actually have the right to put their hands on a woman unless she wants them to. And so they don’t.

From the mouths of babes…

It’s Miss Three who’s the source of the most entertainment in terms of language at the moment. She comes out with all sorts of things, often set to her own little musical composition or one she’s picked up somewhere or other.

Nothing if not capable.

So, I’ve always been ‘the capable one’. Could read before I hit school, glowing reports once I got there, selected for school councils, award for diligence at the end of the third form, two scholarships at the end of seventh. You know, THAT kid. Capable.

Some ponderings on the New Year.

If I was 2017, I’d be feeling a bit of pressure right now. Amidst the general agreement that 2016 was a bit of a shitter, there are high expectations that 2017 can be (should be? must be? could not possibly be anything other than?) better. Just by virtue of being another year, apparently.