In recent years my mum and I have created what can now confidently be described as a family tradition. Annually, we pick a one day course in something crafty, cookery or clever in nature in order to improve ourselves in one way or another.
We have tried book binding, Thai cooking, silver jewellery making, knife skills, fish gutting, carpentry and how to have better conversations (yes, an actual course in talking, which I blogged about here) Continue reading
I win I win I win. That’s right, after seven long years with Princess Beardface, I am finally bequeathed the title of person who has had the longest relationship with the man who is now my husband. Continue reading
We did also have a lovely holiday, before all the shenanigans with Thai hospitals and psychedelic drugs handed out by British Airways. And while I very much doubt I’m done milking the dramas of my pratfall and the associated decline in my physical wellbeing, I thought this week I would lighten the load and hark back to happier days pre-accident. Continue reading
Some people have a signature dish. Crumble. Fish pie. Maybe they make a mean toad-in-the-hole. Others are famed for their obsession with football or, for my international readers, perhaps that thing they do in America where they run around a football field not calling it football, dressed in a cage, wearing black eye make up.
Me? I’m getting pretty brilliant at herniating discs in my back. I’m 33 years old and I’ve just done it for the third time. It’s not big and it’s not clever. It’s chronically painful and anyone who has never had a bad back can just bugger off right now because they have no idea how much pain I
am in would be in if I wasn’t dosed up on so many fantastic drugs that I rattle. Continue reading
I decided to call this post the Highway to Heaven because, seriously, I drove on a road and stopped at a service station so fine that it was heavenly. Not that I believe in heaven. But I do believe in service stations. Continue reading
For the third leg of Gaz and Kim’s Excellent Adventure, we were beginning to feel a little spent. Which is strange, because I haven’t had a break in a year and I really needed one, and yet by week three I was thinking of all the things I was looking forward to back home.
My own bed, my quartet of stupid chickens, my home grown tomatoes, even the ones with gout, or whatever it was that was wrong with them. I missed my gym sessions and my healthy diet, which had gone out the window on week two of the trip, whereupon I’d mostly resorted to a daily diet of coffee and salt and vinegar crisps. Continue reading