Despite what others might say, I am not a collector. I mean, you casually say that you like teapots and suddenly, every birthday and Christmas, it’s a teapot! Pink tea pots, red tea pots, vintage 70s matching tea and coffee pots. There was even an exquisite early 20th-century suffragette teapot, which, by the way, I…
Bore da Chickens, I know you weren’t expecting to hear from me today after all the drama about my flaps (really, that joke never gets old). I could get badges made, ‘Ask me about my Flaps!’ You know how I might have mentioned I’d written a book? You know the one with the fabulous…
Do you ever feel like you are doing life wrong? Like you should be doing loads of stuff, but instead you are quietly just doing you? July started with a much-anticipated trip to Barry in South Wales. There to perform an extract of my work for Folding Rock magazine, I took the chance to catch…
Bore da, my lovelies. Did I mention I was writing a book? Funny, it must have slipped my mind... Well, the day is finally here, and I can reveal the cover and title of my new book. I am so excited to share it with you guys first. I can’t tell you how much I…
I’ve lost my reading classes, so if this post has more than the usual number of spilling mistakes you’ll know why. The last time I remember having them, I was squinting through one lens attempting to dye my eyebrows, the other half of the glasses balanced on my head, all skew-whiff. I’d look where I’d…
I’m late, I’m late, I know, I’m sorry. I’ve been thinking about you. About this post. I miss chatting. Who knew writing a memoir would take up so much head space? Oh, and then there’s the bloody Mister demanding to know which cloth he’s meant to use to clean the windows, while my head is…
‘Shall we go away for Christmas?’ the mister asks as we are sat in bed, psyching each other out over whose turn it is to get up and make more tea. For a moment I think he might have had a stroke. Does he think it is Christmas now? Dear god, is he actually planning…
‘I’m off to Morrisons to collect my meds, do we need anything,’ the Mister asks? There was a time when a trip to Morrisons was all about a bottle of wine and a pizza, now it’s more likely to be a search for HRT and blood pressure pills. ‘Will you bring me something nice?’ I…
My husband and I fall back onto the bed hot and panting, sweat glistening our skin. Oi! Eyes up top. Get your mind out of the gutter, it was nothing like that. We’d just finished putting the duvet cover on. This is what counts for excitement in middle aged life. I feel I should point…
Love is in the air and with this in mind I thought it time to return to the Housewife’s Handy Book and explore all things love and marriage in the letters section. Romance is blooming, or not, as the case may be, for our two young lovers Harry and Agnes. Let me remind you that…
I am sitting writing this in the garden. Later in the evening, in the winter I’d be thinking of bed, but as we stroll towards midsummer the air is still and bright. The sky, fading to the palest blue at the very edges, is still swimming-pool-blue above me. I curse not grabbing my cardi though,…
I am sorting through the kitchen drawer, you know the one where you shove all the bits and pieces, - the takeaway menus and the washing machine manual, lolly-sticks from that time you were gonna make your own, broken bamboo skewers that you are saving in case there is a bamboo shortage. So, I was…
My husband is looking after me. This is not a new thing, he’s nice like that – that’s one of the reasons I married him. That and the fact that he came for Christmas one year and literally wouldn’t go away - six kids later I figured I was stuck with him. We were sat,…
Bordering Grey 