Giving Myself Permission

OK so I'm the parent, I give the permission round here. I like to think of it as giving, not restricting because I'm a horrendous old hippy at heart. But in terms of who has to adhere to guidelines for their own good, it would be The Childe. Except (and I honestly think this is…

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That Time I Had Sneaky Visitors…

A couple of weeks ago it suddenly struck me that I live in an almost hundred-year-old house. Almost period! But not quite: just as those quaint Victorian terraces and mews going for millions were once for us everyday folk (and our horses) my house, build in the early 1920s, is still very much your standard…

Get To Know Me: 100 Questions

Look, here’s one of these “100 things about me” blogs. No one tagged me into this, I just thought I should get this out there early so you know the kind of shady character you are dealing with here. On a serious note: Please don’t be offended by any health slang used, these are my…

That time I didn’t need to be embarrassed by my child … but was.

Childe was role playing me at nursery. Role playing me by putting on 'make up' (paint) and a 'beautiful dress' (some sad rags which were once a Snow White costume) and then telling everyone she was "Goin' to drink a glass of WINE in the res'runt wiv my FRENZ!"