Why didn’t you tell me I had a moustache?

This morning, the bathroom mirror informed me that I had a moustache. ‘Yeah, you’ve got a moustache, man. You’ve had it for ages,’ it said. Eeeew. I haven’t noticed people sneaking glances at my upper lip mid-chat. But there it was. They must’ve been wrestling their instincts to the ground: ‘Look at her moustache!’ ‘I’m not looking, you mean bastard.’ ‘You’re gonna look. You’re definitely gonna look.’ ‘Ggggggh. You can’t … Continue reading Why didn’t you tell me I had a moustache?

Thank you for the art, Paul (a note to my incredible brother)

Dear Paul, I’ve just rediscovered painting and I love it. I never had your talent or your instinctive artist’s eye. But I watched you and learned the basics and what you could do inspired me. Without you, I might still have drawn that shoe made of dots with a 2B pencil under Miss Leigh’s tutelage. I would have had a good crack at the colour wheel in Mr Deacon’s class and I might … Continue reading Thank you for the art, Paul (a note to my incredible brother)

Me time makes me nicer

Sometimes I love doing mum stuff. Playing with kinetic sand, facilitating the baking of misshapen biscuits, preparing healthy meals for Maya to ignore and watching my girl develop remarkable new skills and personality. It all feels nourishing, joyful and right. From this place of beauty I produce masterpieces at the drop of a hat: Creative stuff goes down: Fun times roll: But sometimes the opposite is true. The tedium drags … Continue reading Me time makes me nicer

My daughter is a grubby little soap dodger (and I think she gets it from me)

How often does a four year old need to wash? More often than my daughter, I’d imagine. Maya does not like getting clean. She used to look forward to baths. Showers were a real novelty for about a week. And then, all of a sudden, the love affair ended and Maya and hygiene went their separate ways. I realised things had got bad when she went for a week … Continue reading My daughter is a grubby little soap dodger (and I think she gets it from me)

I wear what my four year old tells me to

I never needed fashion advice until Maya came along and messed up my body. I knew what I liked and I wore it. Nothing made me lose respect for a man faster than seeing him wait patiently outside the changing rooms while his needy girlfriend tried on another ensemble for his nervous appraisal. Did he have nothing better to do? What was she doing with such a sap? And why couldn’t … Continue reading I wear what my four year old tells me to

Look what I did when my daughter was out

Oh my God, I didn’t know this could happen indoors. I feel like I’ve wasted my life. We toasted marshmallows over our fire pit when we were camping in Dorset last week and it was a-may-zing. We’ve had half a pack of big juicy ones in our cupboard ever since. Maya spotted them the other night when I reached in for some boring oatcakes. She pleaded with … Continue reading Look what I did when my daughter was out

Oh my, what a pretty drawing!

We’ve just come back from Montenegro. It was incredible and looked a lot like this: Maya’s favourite favourite thing of all to do on holiday was not to swim in the sea, though. Or eat special holiday pizza. Or steer the little red submarine boat (in a zig-zag). Instead, the thing she liked best of all was writing in her new pink Wilko’s exercise book, which she dubbed The Cat … Continue reading Oh my, what a pretty drawing!

Mummy’s not sharing – the secret bitterness of secondary infertility

I’m lucky. I feel lucky. I’ve got the most beautiful daughter in the whole world (apart from yours, of course, if you’ve got one). She brings me joy every day. I would love her to have a sibling, though. A hundred per cent of my childhood memories involve my brother. We argued, we wrestled (literally – Granny Breakwell rang the bell to mark the start … Continue reading Mummy’s not sharing – the secret bitterness of secondary infertility

Hello. I’m a coin-tethered trolley and I will ruin your day.

Hi. I’m a trolley and I’m here to destroy you. Check your pockets and find me a pound. Yes, yes. I know no-one carries cash anymore. Tell it to someone who cares. Haven’t you got one of those little keyring coins that proper grown-ups have? No? Ha ha ha ha ha! You TOTAL loser. A-A-Aaaaa. Naughty naughty. It’s no use trying to yank me backwards. … Continue reading Hello. I’m a coin-tethered trolley and I will ruin your day.