Monday, 2 December 2013


There’s a workman in my house, fitting a gas boiler, who just mentioned to me that he knows my daughter, he was the year ahead of her at school. I am now old enough that my kids’ peers are Corgi registered tradesmen.

Babe’s newest rheumatologist (arthritis doc) is twelve. This is a registrar, so the child must have taken A-levels when she was five. It’s okay, I can have the female Doogie Howser treating my child. I’m just having issues thinking that my child’s friends and peers are out there being adults and doing adult jobs.


Thursday, 18 April 2013

Found this on my desktop, no idea when I wrote it.

If you figure once a week, every week for twenty years, it’s over a thousand. Add in a top-up every week, and I have been around that supermarket over two thousand times.
They tell you to write about what you know. This is what I know. I have been to that bloody school five days a week, thirty nine weeks a year for eleven years. Twice a day. That is four and half thousand school runs. I don’t even want to calculate how many runny noses wiped, floors mopped, dog shit picked up, nappies washed, meals prepared, shirts ironed or loos scrubbed. I probably could give it an estimate but I don’t want to.
This is what I know. We still need bloody bread!