Portugal, for me, is sensory overload; whatever the time of year and after visiting for twenty-six years, it is time to make it my home.
I don’t think my mother read any of my literary contributions since I had poetry published at eleven when she had high hopes that I would become Gloucestershire’s answer to William Wordsworth. Oh, and helping my step-father piece together his aeronautical autobiography, of course.
So reliant I have become on Word to record my every word, I have now programmed myself to restart and try to recapture that inspiration.
Just a crazy old Baby Boomer with a cute dog, carrying a couple of poles
Nothing can ever mean as much as spending a handful of hours in the company of good friends
How much longer am I going to live and how much money am I going to need to see me out?
So. Monday. We meet again. We will never be friends – but maybe we can move past our mutual enmity toward a more-positive partnership Julio Alexi Genao I have done something fairly major to my knee, so walking is a painful process. I am ‘in training’ for the […]
I still survive on precious little sleep, but sleeping like a log or a baby is only in my dreams.
Remember ladies, don’t forget to pack your SheWee for the ultimate Amsterdam experience … Ja!
Never mess with a depressed GOW who is leaving glorious sun-soaked weather for the rain-soaked UK. The three of us were going through security at Faro Airport this morning and it was not exceptionally busy by their standards, so it was a surprise when a young jobs-worth security […]
She still tried to make an effort on the fashion front but, tottering around in ridiculously high heels every day, was beginning to take a toll on her ankles.
Us women still put up with boring sexist crap in the work place, the banter and the inappropriate touching but, when it is headline news and being doled out by the head honchos, it is really is very worrying.
But … yahoo.com reporting that girls as young as 9 are asking the NHS to perform labiaplasty surgery has … just about … left me speechless. Bought up on a farm in rural Gloucestershire, I had no idea what a vagina was at 9. I think my mother probably referred to it as something else :), but there were far more interesting things for me to be doing at 9 than peering at my vagina. I wasn’t a contortionist anyway and I haven’t a hope in hell of getting down there now, but having my labia tweaked has never entered my mind at any stage of my life.
40 years on the planet and what exactly had she got to show for it? Apart from 40-year-old blubber, wrinkles and facial hair? Zilch. Nada. Nothing. No relationship, no children and a stagnating career. She had worked hard to reach the top of her tree but, over the last few years some of the branches had been lopped off. Her career had become a downward spiral and her life an uphill struggle. She was tired, disillusioned and had subconsciously resigned herself to the fact that this was how things were going to be. An elderly primigravida, alone against the world.
When I was in my prime, my life revolved around my job. Now, after too many years on the 9-5 treadmill doing something that was never me, I am finally living my life doing what I enjoy doing the most. Working from home, life is great but, having settled into my new […]
Although reluctant to start taking them again as I invariably end up looking like the Michelin man, it seems to be the only way I can deal with my autoimmune problems. After a little over a week, they have kicked in and I feel like a cross between Usain […]
I’ve had a bit of a shock. I looked into the mirror and saw someone looking remarkably like my mother staring back at me. So, if I needed visual confirmation, I’ve had it, I am turning into my mother. Gazing into the mirror in disbelief, my mother’s face […]
I had a couple of glasses of wine last night and I only remembered about Lent this morning after having eaten four biscuits with my coffee. Biscuits and wine. I was supposed to be giving up both these indulgences until 13th April. Too late now. I must try to remember next year. I might have remembered, had I eaten pancakes yesterday, but I didn’t because I am on a diet.
It’s almost the end of February 2017. It feels like it should still be 2016. It’s like I missed a year. 2015 turned out to be my year from Hell, my annus horribilis, so I spent 2016 blinkered, dealing with the fallout from 2015. I did manage to churn out the first draft of my novel during that time, so something positive came out of it.
Sleepless nights these days don’t pose too much of a problem for me given that I no longer have to don a suit and go to work. However, being awake half the night inevitably does has a knock on effect. I get nothing done around the house or the garden. As for trying to pack 20 years of global travel on a budget when you haven’t got the energy to pop out to the supermarket …