Mum, blogger, crafter, reviewer, writer, traveller: I love to write and I am not limited by form. Here, you will find stories, articles, opinion pieces, poems, all of which reflect me: who I am, what I love, what I feel, how I view things.
I never thought that I would write an article about my enjoyment of extreme sports but here I am, regaling you with the fact that I have had a fantastic evening of skiing off-piste down mountains and leaping in the air with my skis crossed. And as if that wasn't stimulation enough, I visited Zion National Park, Utah for the second time and careered over ledges and scrub while the sun was going down, on my sports bike. No shuttle for me!
The Dissection of English
I have to admit that I am conscious of how controversial this opinion might sound. It will certainly be viewed as a strange thing for a previous high school English teacher to propose, perhaps even a little subversive but it is something that I have been thinking about for a long time - why does the English government feel it is essential learning for children in primary education to know the components of language?
Go-karting is for girls too
I am the mother of two boys who love go-karting. And I can see why as it is fantastic fun. It is also an activity that we can do as a family. I have to admit that I probably don't take it as seriously or indulge as competitively in it as the male members of my family. I am sure that they would argue that I go really slowly, driving like I'm on my way to run an errand rather than racing others at breakneck speed. My arms and shoulders tell a different story after a karting session. You see, to me, I am pushing the limits, trying my hardest to drive fast, following the driving line and generally, feeling the need for speed. I love it!
Travel in the time of Covid
I'm not overly keen on flying. Being sandwiched with strangers into seats for slim buttocks and short legs is hard and as I don't have elbows which like to stay firmly tucked into my rib cage for the whole flight - well, it can make for an uncomfortable journey. And this was what it was like pre-Covid. Adding to that a mask that MUST be worn at all times and a wariness about the person sitting next to you, developed from an innate need to stay healthy and there is no doubt that Covid has definitely added extra elements to the experience.
Not playing for the team – what is happening in kids’ soccer?
This past week has been a tough week for my boys soccer wise. This has led me to evaluate what soccer nowadays entails for my kids and whether I want to continue to pay for something which is becoming a less than satisfying experience for them and, by extension, for me. I always thought that sport was meant to be fun but I am becoming increasingly aware that this is not the case; that the value that team participation passes onto your kid is not always positive. It is about the win, but not for your kids.
The flower sat on the window sill as a reminder of positive emotions. It was a marigold and it was a bright resilient orange. It was starting to get leggy, straggly at its stem; it looked forlorn as it had been there for some time in its pot. Brownness was encroaching on its edges, eroding its leaves and causing them to tatter; like rags and bags caught forever on a fence, unable to escape the merciless, relentless wind, waiting to disintegrate. Summer was almost over and it would die. It had dry soil with a crispy crust, scattered with vermiculite from the once healthy potting mix. Its stem and leaves had once been a vibrant green but now it looked like a child's drawing of a flower, coloured with cheap acrylic paints from the dollar store that were too thin and presented colour like a veil, not a brick. It was fading and no-one was there to notice except her.
An Unexpected Surprise
When Emily went to open her front door that morning as she was heading out to walk the dog, she was surprised to find a meticulously wrapped brown paper parcel on her doorstep, next to the boot scraper and flagstone steps of her period home. It had no stamps but was tied with bright white string with a vintage paper tag attached. There was no name on it.