when stroke struck

A day after my birthday last year, on the 8th August, I called my Father from the passport queue at Gatwick Airport to say we’d landed. He did not answer. Half an hour later, I go through to my Mother, who was on her to the hospital where my Father had been taken. Stroke. That was all she knew and that was all she said. And that was the end of life as we knew it. I remember having the baby in the baby carrier, so close to me, and spinning around gently, oh so lost, when busy Gatwick seemed… View Post

it is my birthday

I love my birthday. I love celebrating my birthday. Yet, this year. Every day is hard with grief, I’ll give you that one for free. And then somehow, some days are a tad bit harder. A lot harder. Like birthdays. Yours and theirs. And special days. Last year, on my birthday, we were all there and there was cake, always the same cake, and laughter and that sweet promise of the future ahead that birthdays make you feel. This year, for my birthday, I’m trying to come to terms with loss and an unsurmountable pain that doesn’t get easier as… View Post


Before I became a parent, I was under the impression illusion babies and young children consistently slept for hours on end during the day, lying down comfortably in their cots or carrycots or prams. Yes, even those children who would not sleep at night, gave their parents the gift of naptime, from where I stood. I was also under the impression that parenthood gave you some sort of access to a secret energy potion like Obelix’s, which allowed parents to run whole profitable businesses exclusively during naptime. Needless to say, I knew nothing (Jon Snow). Spoiler alert, there’s no secret… View Post