My big people.


My eldest Two little people are like a comedy act. Aged 19 and 17 they are very good friends, and very very funny. They are currently arguing with each other on Twitter as if they are complete strangers. The reason for this is beyond me but it is making them laugh hysterically.
They are completely different girls but somehow identical at the same time.
19 (this is how I shall identify her) is an odd girl but in a beautiful way, she drowns in everybody else’s ocean and worries about everything possible. She dresses how she likes to dress and not how society says she should. She can look lovely with very little effort, and does not realise how beautiful she really is. 19 never asks for anything, she never has, nor does  she expect anything. Her routines are bordering on OCD and she has recently discovered Guinness. Her trust issues are huge and she is emotionally very fragile. 19 is also the wind beneath my wings.

18 lives in her own land. She follows fashion like its going out of fashion, and life drifts on by. She is kind and considerate and a very sweet girl, but does not suffer fools gladly. For most of her life her dialect was (and still is most of the time) lines from comedy sketches. She would always take on different Tv personalities. She was born for the stage, but has neither the confidence nor the wish to do so. She dances like Beyoncé and can bend it like Beckham.

18 is in love with Marilyn Monroe, and I have watched her morph into this timeless beauty as she has grown into the headstrong, confident goddess that she is today.

I really like them

Paradise lost

Paradise lost

I’ve heard people in the past, on returning from their holidays, commenting on needing another holiday to get them over the one they have just returned from. It always baffled me, and left me wondering, what the hell kind of holiday they had actually been on!!

Well… I now know! I was that person who uttered those words on our return from Zante. Ah, beautiful Zante, the island of:

  • warm turquoise waters
  • lush green mountains
  • Mythos
  • Smugglers cove
  • Blue caves
  • and of course the Carretta Carretta.

Sounds like heaven doesn’t it?

What I actually got was –

  • screwed over with an apartment mix up
  • medical bills due to small persons burst eardrum, not so small persons highly inflamed and bleeding eczema covering 90% of her body. Due to not packing her creams (she had one job)
  • Not much Mythos at all, due to being screwed over financially and nursing my poorly people.
  • An ended relationship
  • and Mosquito’s with absolutely no boundaries (ahem)

Oh I missed out the 46 degree heatwave that makes teenage girls very,very grumpy. especially if they have no WiFi!!

So I am now home and dry, with recovered little people, a not so recovered bank balance, single( it’s OK) and wishing I could jump on a plane back to Zante to recover.

As the heading suggests, I feel there is room for a humorous Title. I just cant think of it, so answers on a post card please 🙂

Update: with thanks to the wonderful writer that is, My post now has a title. Check out his work, im a huge fan x

I’m back… from outer space ( and slightly cold turkey from the meds that are controlling my brain) and with a different name:)


I think to much, I always have. When I think, I talk myself out of everything I love doing or want to do. Like this blogging malarkey. I started probably over a year ago and immediately talked myself out of it. I then came back to it-and talked myself out of it again. I continued to read the blogs that inspired me to start blogging in the first place. I love reading and I love thinking about writing. The problem is that when I begin the writing, my thinking kicks in. and so it continues….

I spent three days trying to decide which theme to use – Another symptom of my over-thinking!!!  I became so in awe of other blogs that I become overwhelmed with inferiority and thought ” stop now!! you cant do this!!” 

so here I am again, NOT thinking, and just writing. I think I came in at the wrong angle… oh no! there’s think again! hmmmmm let me slowly step away from her…

OK its safe

I have decided that my past does not count any-more. It does not matter, and I  can not write about it. I can refer to it of course, as sometimes I will need to use it as a comparison maybe, or to explain.I have also come to terms with the fact that I do not know big long words, or have highly a intelligent vocabulary, and that is OK 🙂 because I wouldn’t be able to understand a bloody word I say. I also only very slightly know how to use all the fancy  things that word press has to offer. That’s OK too, because at one point in my life, I didn’t even know how to walk, or talk, and look how that worked out for me 🙂

So I would like to raise a toast, with the glass jar that I drink my water with sliced lemon and cucumber from. A toast to doing what I do because I love it, and not because I’m particularly any good at it. A toast to the blogs I follow and your sheer awesomeness.


More wine needed please


So 19 turned 20, and bagged herself a very cushy little job in Zante. I’m trying very hard to hold it together, and not turn into a completely neurotic Mother with tightly tied apron strings. Its sooooooo hard!!

This is, after all what I have tried to get her to do for a long time now. BUT I’M NOT READY!! Not yet, not for my baby to leave. This was never supposed to actually come around. Ever. She was always going to stay my baby, and be at home with me, and come into my bed for cuddles when she has nightmares. we had a deal. This was supposed to be a life time away yet. 20 years is not a life time is it?

OK so she’s really happy and excited,and she did cry all the way home last year, when we left the place. And I have told her she should follow her heart and see the world and be happy.

Its only for four months, and only four hours away on the plane! so I really have nothing to be sad or worried about. Do I?!

20 years just is not enough time to prepare for this sort of shit!

Day dream believer.

Day dream believer.

I can never remember a time, that I was never searching. Searching for something completely unknown. I always felt like something was missing, like there was a big hole in my life. You know that feeling when you have forgotten an appointment, you don’t know you have, but you know you should, be doing something today, but can’t quite, put your finger on it. Well that’s exactly what ive lived like, for im sure, my entire life. I remember laying awake in the darkness for hours, most nights    (ive always had trouble sleeping) and thinking, is this it?  Id rack my brains trying to come up with an answer, that would satisfy me enough to at least allow me go back to sleep for a few hours. I knew that this wasn’t ‘it’, I just didn’t know how I knew, or what ‘it’ even was.

I have always been very aware of my inner-self, my higher being, my spiritual soul. Call it what you will, I feel I can differentiate between my physical body and ME. As a child I talked to people who my mum couldn’t see, and had frequent dreams that came true.My dreams were, and still are very vivid, and I felt like this was my place to learn whatever it was I needed to learn. I always met someone there, I just could never remember who.

I have always been a daydreamer, I contemplate my life, and my thoughts in my place of daydreams. I have never been big on personal conversation, and find it extremely difficult to tell anyone how or why I feel the way I do. In my daydream state, everything makes sense, and therefore needs no further explanation as far as im concerned. (I am very protective over these thoughts and can get very hostile when I get attacked for not sharing them.)

So far I have daydreamed my way through 4 children and a 7 year marriage, still non the wiser. If anything, searching harder. Each one of my girls has taught me highly valuable lessons. They have introduced me to the person I never knew existed inside of me. Who’d of known that I was strong and confident, or that I possessed resilience and fight. They also gave me purpose and direction. My marriage made me realise that I didn’t want to be married. I had a journey to begin, and this was not it. I was living in a parallel universe, living the wrong life, this was not my life, I had no idea what my life was or even where it was, or how the fuck i would find out. But the little girl in me, laying awake at night thinking ‘is this it?’ decided it was time to find the hell out. Better late then never eh?

And so my journey began…

Please dont break her heart.



 The wind beneath my wings

Seeing our children poorly is heartbreaking to say the least. I’ve  slept next to hospital beds on chairs. Watched helplessly as doctors insert drips and attach monitors. Cried when they had their jabs. I’ve stayed awake all night because I was too scared to sleep; through fear of their temperature spiking causing them to fit. Endured Asthma attacks that have led to hospitalization. leaving you questioning your parenting every single time.

Read the rest of this entry

Pinterest is my home girl



Pinterest and I spend good quality time together. She knows what I need and conspires with me as I plan away the hours.Making lists of what I need to do to make my life meaningful and fulfilling. I now have ten boards, all with my “next” projects, brimming with inspiration.

Pinterest has everything I need in my life.Images that speak to the very soul of me, she has blueprints of my destiny. Her words, chosen personally bringing me spiritual enlightenment, delivered with precision timing and written in the sand of the very beach that I long to walk bare foot along.whilst collecting washed up pebbles and sea glass, from which I will fashion the jewellery, that I will sell from my small beach hut. Once I have left my yoga and healing studio, designed of course with the simplicity, that my soul seeks. The simplicity that only Pinterest knows.

Did I rescue Two Lambs today?



 On our short drive to take the kids to visit my mum today, we met the cutest

escapees Skipping away from the not so secure field they should have been in. As I pulled over quickly before a potential collision, the children howling with excitement in the back. I smiled; as in that split second it reminded me of when I discovered my eldest Two girls in a similar situation. The youngest (and the bravest) would instigate an escape mission under the stair gate first thing in the morning, to take hostage of biscuits.

Quickly remembering why I stopped, I jumped out to escort these beautiful spring babies out of the path of oncoming lorries. frantically leading them to the safety of the luscious green field, where the rest of the flock were happily chewing on grass. My heart suddenly felt very heavy, with the realisation that I was in fact leading them back to the holding cell, while they awaited their brutal and bitter end! fighting the urge to succumb to the children’s pleas of ” mum can we keep them?” As the two babies scrambled up the grass verge, they both looked back at me, and looked me straight in the eyes. At which point I begged them not to, im convinced they connected to the sorrow in my eyes and read my mind. As they held eye contact for what seemed like eternity, I instantly felt the cruel irony of what i had just done and wondered if I could get away with escaping with them. The innocent babies broke their gaze and skipped away to unite with the flock, on the other side of the not so greener grass. 

Why Have Hobbies?


I am always taking up hobbies, and this piece is so very true to me. Summed up perfectly.

Aunt Beulah

In a recent Peanuts cartoon, when Lucy told Charlie Brown she was thinking of starting some new hobbies, Charlie said, “That’s a good idea, Lucy. The people who get most out of life are those who really try to accomplish something.”

Looking appalled, Lucy replied: “ACCOMPLISH something? I thought we were just supposed to keep busy.”

In the past, I thought like Lucy. Viewing hobbies as busy work to fill my idle moments, I pursued decoupage, macramé, origami, tatting, and yodeling. Each endeavor enjoyed the same success as my wish to be 5’6”.Wreath

My search for a busy-work hobby peaked when I scoured fields and ponds for nuts, pinecones, grasses, and twigs, which I used to make Christmas wreaths. I gave these creations to loved ones, who exclaimed happily and hung them in their snug homes.

I had used liberal amounts of a smelly liquid adhesive to attach my found…

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