All The Ways

Swimming was something I'd been doing since I could - forever. I had a group of people I though of as my (faster-than-me-) swimming-friends. And I went to swimming camps and learnt camp-songs and that taking aspirin and drinking coke was meant to give you a high.

Dancing the day away.

When I lived in the Netherlands I had an hour-long commute to work. I would leave home in the dark and join the other plebs on the road in the early morning, insulated coffee cups in hand. The radio station I mostly listened to had a larrikin disc jockey, and one of his gags was... Continue Reading →

Apologies

Apologies are the mainstay of my parenting. I fuck up all the time. And then I apologise. And then I hope like hell that I don't do it again, that I haven't totally screwed my kids up for life, and that they won't need therapy to get over my appalling mothering. I wrote a blog... Continue Reading →

Weird things I’m teaching my kids

That there are towels appropriate for swimming, and towels appropriate for the bathroom. And never the twain shall meet. What is it about the big, bright, fluffy swimming towels that makes my head jerk to the side like an inquisitive jack russell when I see them hanging in my bathroom? Are we bigger at the... Continue Reading →

I’ve got crabs, they’re multiplying

Hi. Lesson 1) Never assume that the bucket of water that your son wants to bring home from the river contains only fresh water for the starfish he brought home the day before. Lesson 2) Don't ever leave the bucket of not-river-water in your car overnight because it's raining and you can't be bothered dealing... Continue Reading →

Marvellous Mother of the Millennium

There are three vases of flowers on our dining room table. One is filled with hydrangeas, which are beautifully drying out because their vase ran dry and nobody got as far as re-filling it. One is filled with limp, browning iceberg (edit #1: roses are in fact) Margaret Merrill roses, which my mother gave me a couple of... Continue Reading →

Gardening, Parenting, Compost

I’m reading another amazing parenting book. I’m not even up to Chapter One yet. That’s how good it is, I’m still reading the introduction, and I’m highlighting like mad and writing notes in the margins. The book is The Gardner and the Carpenter by Alison Gopnik. I can’t even remember for sure how I got... Continue Reading →

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