GAA Mum

I never expected that I’d become one of those competitive GAA mums who spend all weekend on the side-lines, screaming at their off spring, demanding more, berating the competition, and complaining about the Ref. Yet here I am, on a bitterly cold November afternoon, stamping my feet on the side of the pitch...

Negilgence

I’ve been negligent of my blog lately. That’s down to a whole rake of reasons, one of which is that I have been testing the rigour of my heart and judgement, and found both to be far short of being fit for purpose. Perhaps  had I been blogging regularly I would have picked up on the warning signs earlier?...

Widows Weeds

Wearing black to indicate mourning is an established practice in many parts of the world, although in some places, particularly Asia, they wear white, or even red and other bright colours.   It’s apparently an exclusively European tradition whereby widows remain in black til the end of their...

Cheltenham Lit Fest

The programme was pretty overwhelming.  So much choice, so many people I’d love to hear speak; topics I’d love to know better; books I wish I understood more deeply.  And then the inevitable angst: did I choose the right ones? Maybe I should have gone with my gut instinct instead of reading the...

Womans Best Friend?

It’s funny how sometimes it can be a completely innocent remark, a throw away comment, which can make the world seem right again or alternatively throw you over the edge. A strangers’ greeting, or a gesture from a passer by, and the dynamic of the day can tilt and bend unnervingly. And so it is...

Who stole my daughter?

Just a few short weeks ago I bragged to my friends that my thirteen year old daughter has shown no signs of interest in boys / discos / make up / clothes (particularly of the short and skimpy kind) or anything else which contributes to the average parents’ teenage nightmare.  Not that I’d...