January

How to impress your Children?

Friday 17 January 2025

Well it’s with a traffic cone as it turns out!

Oh the humble traffic cone, so often the unlikely hero of late night pranks. Something about the combination of our endless town-centre roadworks and a good helping of alcohol has made it quite commonplace to see those bold orange and white striped mounds of plastic adorning historic statues, topping iconic buildings and appearing in student kitchens on hung-over morning-afters.

But my cone is not in this ilk at all. Oh no, it is far more respectful. Let me reveal all…

I am driving through the gates of a large institution for a morning meeting when I stop to ask where to park. After a quick verification of my ID I am waved towards … my very own parking spot. Yes a traffic cone, with my name, (my actual name!) on it, stands proud guard over a reserved space just outside the reception.

As chance would have it, I am on a call with my eldest child at this very moment and so impressed is she with the news that, as I am hopping out of the driver’s seat to move the cone, her amplified voice bellows out on speaker phone

“Your name is on it! That is so cool, take a picture mum!”

Passersby look a little startled and all I can do is shrug, point at the cone and say

“Not every day you get your name on a cone!”

What I don’t add, but it could, is that it is even less every-day is doing anything that impresses your children. It is a great start to Friday…

Kathmandu

26 January 2025

My eldest child is in Nepal…

Scarcely has the ink dried on her final exam that my eldest is off on medical elective… in Kathmandu!

My lovely girl pops home for 24 hours before she goes and because I am a flexi work-from-homer these days, I am able to make the most of it. The washing machine whirrs on overdrive, I cook favourite meals, I help to find room in her rucksack for: 5 sets of scrub, a stethoscope and a stock pile of painkillers.

And then, somewhere amidst the busyness, I just stop and stand still for minute. Over thirty years ago, I was the girl frantically packing and re-packing my backpack for a 5 month trip to South East Asia. Excited, raring to go and full of adventure and I recall, moments before I set off , my mum appearing, bursting into tears and saying,

‘It’s just such so far away…’

And today that is me – oh how the tables have turned!

Four and a half thousand miles, fifteen plus hours by plane, a new culture and working in a hospital that will feel entirely different to her experience in the UK. Gosh; it is quite a challenge! And if she does need help – not even my flexi work from home status will be of much use for the next two months.

But, rolling the years back to the start of the 1990s, when I boarded that plane to Bangkok, I was on the verge of some of the best months of my life. An unbelievable time of joy, amazement, wonder – 5 months of feeling on cloud nine and more full of life and excitement than I could have hoped for.

So I keep my worries to myself. But as I drop her off at a friend’s house in Sheffield for the journey down to Gatwick I do give her a very big hug. And I also allow a little voice in my head to say,

Please keep her safe…

February

8 February 2025

Oh February, for decades the month of the ‘double birthday’ with two of my children celebrating their births on consecutive days! Until this year, the first one where neither of them is at home ….

One is is Nepal, one is is a University lab and both happy and well. Gifts and cards are sent and calls are made … nonetheless …

My social media feed lights up with ‘memories’ of parties past. Crowded tables of little children munching party food, smiling faces at local soft-play centres, and plenty of cakes and candles. Then to more recent times and the teenage years;  thumping music, beer pong, disco balls, loud singing and that very same table groaning with alcohol.

And in the echoing silence of a house now empty of my three offspring, I feel a little forlorn ..

A world without Windsor …

20 February 2025

After 11 years of loyal service and 148 000 miles of memories, I say a fond farewell to Windsor, my very trusty Toyota, and it’s emotional …

Of course I know a car isn’t actually a person but … I am such an old softie that mine always do feel real. And I’m not alone. At the garage where I collect my new vehicle, the very nice salesman asks if I am okay, as we reach the moment where I have to sign Windsor away,

“I sometimes get tears you know …”

he tells me

“… people get attached to their cars, I guess seem like part of the family”

Indeed they do! An article by Kayla Morgan, reports the 2024 survey by car centre Meineke, which revealed that

“ … 51% of car owners think of their car as part of the family .. and …about 53% would keep their current car forever if given the option.” 

Rather more alarmingly, Kayla’s article also references the 2009 documentary My Car is my Lover. But let’s not dwell on that one!

Back at the garage , I hear myself telling the very nice salesman about the long forgotten treasures we found when we cleared Winsor out: the decorated beach stones the kids made on holiday in Wales and the Clarice Bean audio books we listened to so many times that we could recite chapters verbatim. I recount the trips to drop the children off at University with Windsor’s boot crammed to the rafters, the rescue mission to Edinburgh when Prom dress daughter had concussion, driving to tense Medical school interviews with my Eldest and all those voyages to the vet with Small Boy and Boris the gecko.

So many memories, so many talked-about tales, so many crazy times. And through it all there was Windsor, ever-reliable, chugging along the motorways of our lands, without complaint… the truly trustiest of Toyotas. What a car he’s been and what a betrayal it feels to be leaving him behind today.

And in that moment, I know I am one of the 53% and that, if money and space were no object, I would keep him forever…

May

Is there a doctor in the house?

Friday 16 May 2025

Well we have one!

My eldest child, receives her final examination results in March of this year and the whole household is bursting with pride as our girl makes it through five grueling of years of medical school to qualify as a resident doctor. As well as pride, when I think back to the start of this chapter of life in the NorthWest I realise that I also feel something else … incredulity.

Now this is exactly the moment when any mum could be forgiven for digging out the toddler snaps and look back at the significant milestones but my memory takes me in a slightly different direction, hurtling back to our arrival back in the NorthWest in 2010.

Yes, fifteen years ago, we were trying to cram the contents of our family home in the SouthWest into a small two and a half bed Northern rental property. The ‘half-bedroom’ belonged to my eldest and, although she was ecstatic to have a room of her very own for the first time, it was such a tiny space that the door couldn’t fully open without hitting the bed! Downstairs was a permanently cluttered mess of my work, kids’ homework, lego, music and a piano, overspill plates and cups from the galley kitchen and semi-dried washing. As for the garage, well that was packed to the rafters with the furniture, boxes of toys and the white goods that simply could not fit into our new living quarters.

The quiet road we lived on was nice enough and our neighbours were fantastic but the nearby main road was more salubrious and, as on our daily drive home from school, we passed the dingy local Sex Shop, I remember thinking on more than one occasion,

“What have you done and what is this place you have brought your children to…”

But we dug in and the trio were amazing. It is a common adage that ‘children are very resilient‘ and even in those early days, almost as if in denial of our changed fortunes, they just carried on as if nothing at all had changed… even though their entire lives had.

We moved eventually, when I bought what is now very much our home, to a different part of town with a lot more space but even before that each of them simply gave their best efforts to everything, working hard at school and throwing themselves into all their hobbies and clubs. It must just be who they are! I really couldn’t have asked for more and am probably blessed!

And being herself; kind, caring, determined and driven has taken my Eldest child from a the bedroom-not-big-enough-for a bed, in a slightly shady part of town, to a position as a Resident Doctor. I guess the tiny bedroom really didn’t matter so very much after all. If you are prepared to work hard to make the most of the talents you have, not much can stop you achieving whatever you set your mind to.

So time to put the memories away, because we have a graduation to prepare for and I think it is time for all eyes to look to the future now…

July

Tuesday 29 July 2025

“Mum, what’s for lunch?”

This is my nineteen year old son! I am in the middle of a work meeting and have been up since seven, he is still in his dressing gown and has not looked up from the X-Box screen for the last two hours! It is safe to say that I am not amused.

Making sure I am on meeting-mute, I call back ‘sort yourself out; I am busy‘ and then I return to the day job.

A couple of hours later, I head downstairs for a coffee break and… what a sight greets me! Smallboy still in dressing gown but vigorously kneading bread dough in the kitchen!

“What on earth are you doing?” I half-shriek

Smallboy give me a floury smile, and looking pretty pleased with himself explains

“Well you told me to sort my lunch out, there’s not a lot of food in the fridge, so I decided to make a loaf of bread”

Well there your have it! I can only laugh out loud. It is so typical of my third-born. My theory is that being born last into a house of three under-fives, there was so little attention left that he long ago gave up waiting to parental approval or permission before launching into his latest exploit.

As a tiny toddler, he learned to assemble lego models independently … because everyone else was ‘too busy‘. I often lost him in the large Supermarket near our SouthWest house .. and invariably found him sitting happily in the coin operated trains and planes outside the cafe. Then, of course, there was the building of the basket-ball hoop and … on and on it goes.

In Harper’s Bazaar around the time of the birth of Kate and William’s third child , an article claimed that

You get wiser parents with each kid ….So third-borns grow up with more relaxed boundaries. These are the children most likely to be creative and risk takers.

Well, ‘wiser parents’ or just more pre-occupied ones I’m not so sure? The traits, for the child however, they  definitely fit my son!

It is actually nearly 6pm by the time he has finished his masterpiece. As I have no advice to give, because I have never made bread, I set about putting the rest of our evening meal together. We triumphantly sit down to a feast of freshly baked bread, with cheeses, salad and red wine!

Tomorrow he’s baking again, as he thought that loaf number 1 was ‘a touch too dense‘. Many years of parenting him have taught me that it will just be easier to leave him to it…

Even better than Stevie Wonder?

Tuesday 8 July 2025

Did I even mention that Stevie is at the very top of my ‘top three artists I’d love to see live’ list?

I know, probably only about fifty times! Anyway, when a friend hears that my idol is coming a Manchester venue, they express-message the news in bold BLOCK CAPITALS

“STEVIE WONDER 5th July !!! How many tickets?”

And I can’t believe it, because in my heart I think I had never expected to actually make this dream come true.

So why do I  pause? It is that  date…that date rings a bell. I glance at the calendar. And I instantly know that I’ll be giving Stevie, ‘Superstition’ and those sweet harmonica tunes a serve. Because we have an even better event to attend. Between the 4th and 7th of July, we have not one, but two graduations!

So pushing thoughts of funky soul music aside, we drive North for said July weekend, and what a time we have!

It is four days of unbridled joy. My baby girls, all grown up and graduated! Looking so happy and making me feel so unbelievably proud. The ceremonies and speeches are wonderful, the family meals fun and the fizzy wine freely flowing – looking at some of the pics, a little too freely!

Of course I shed the occasional tear. Hearing the newly qualified doctors all reciting ‘The Oath’ is quite a moment. And in Edinburgh, from high up in the iconic McEwan Hall, seeing Prom Dress daughter, the quiet little soul who didn’t speak for her first 6 months at school, turning to smile confidently to the audience as she receives her scroll, gives me goosebumps.

And of course there are some moments. Small boy and I stay in some very basic University accommodation in Edinburgh and both have to get suited and booted for the fanciful events in small public toilets! At some point, the memory of how is now a little hazy, we also acquire a tartan flat cap!

But perhaps the most  unbelievable moment comes as Ex-Hub and I are watching a procession of new graduates leave the hall in the Scottishcapital.

Ex-Hub takes me aside to say,

I feel so proud but you; you must feel incredible. For all you’ve done I wanted to say. ‘Thank you’

I am dumbfounded. If I’d never believed I would ever see Stevie Wonder in person, then this pales against this. These are simply words I never even dared to dream of hearing! Nothing short of miraculous.

But let me not digress; this weekend and this post belong to my beautiful daughters and to both of themI say,

I got faith in you girl

Stevie Wonder single 2016 from the Soundtrack to Sing

You go out, shape this world for the better and live your best lives now.

As for Stevie, now that I have been convinced that miracles can happen,  … maybe next time?

September

University Reunion

Saturday 28 September 2025

Four decades after arriving at University as an excited 18 year old, I head back for my first ever alumni event.

Well what took me so long? And the answer is, I  really do not know.

Loved University. It had been my dream to go and it was everything and more that I could have hoped for. The best part of it, without question, the wonderful friends I made and still see today. And I suppose that amidst the busyness of life, a job that invaded most weekends and children to bring up single handed, I just never found the time and energy to race back to Cambridge for a rushed weekend.

But now, I am in  a different phase. My children are all grown-up, my job is far more flexible ( joyously, evenings and weekends have returned to my life.) So, a weekend in Cambridge with old friends, fine dining and lashings of alcohol? I say, count me in!

I arrive in a small group but even so, am initially a little thrown. Our beloved student bar, with its wooden alcoves and pinball machines is no more. In its place a glossy renovation, not unlike a hotel foyer that leaves me a little cold. Then in mild panic I stare around the room thinking ‘who are all these people?‘ But I am rescued by the genius that is the name tags – to be fair 40 years is a long time and without those badges anyone would struggled to place a few faces – and am soon bus catching up; filling in the gaps of those missing years.

Additionally, it is an action-packed schedule. We have a Provost’s Talk, on the state of world order, and are dazzled by the name dropping from top talent at the Wall Street Journal to hobnobbing with Ursula von der Leyen at the UN! By contrast, Evensong in the Chapel is a pause for calmer  reflection. Here the wonderful choir fill that glorious Gothic building with music, and  beauty and, for 45 minutes anyway,  the world’s worries melt away and all seems at peace.

But the main event is the dinner and drinks…oh so many drinks. And now the conversation changes from current lives, jobs and children to crazy times from decades ago when we were young and often very foolish. Ill-advised liaisons, the infamous football/netball dinner, the nightmare of mathematics exams and the mystery of the nut cutlet and its collision with an illustrious portrait on the wall of the college dining room. These and many other memories are shared and laughed about and put to rest… I guess until the next time we meet.

Because there will definitely be a next time for me … this has and always will be my happy place…

October

I got on the plane…

Friday 31 October 2025

In recent years, I’ve become a regular at the local airport; dropping off, picking up, loitering at the arrivals gate, paying astronomical parking fees (even once being fined for forgetting to pay them!). I swear that some of the staff now greet me by name! But the one thing I’ve not done… since 2019… is fly anywhere. No, I have been strictly a chauffeur…until this weekend!

Yes, readers, I actually get on the plane!

With my two salaried daughters, who now pay for themselves, I jet off to Brussels for a long weekend. I am beyond excited. I refuse to have ‘carry on luggage only’ and fork out for a 20kg case. Overpack to ridiculous proportions, fill my purse with Euros, doubtless drive the girls insane …. and what fun I have!

Brussels could just possibly be the perfect weekend destination. Not too big, effortlessly elegant and a delight to while away the hours in.

We shop, we stop regularly to sample the famous beer, we eat … lots of frites, plenty of waffles and, of course the reknowned ‘Moules’

and we just enjoy wandering around the pretty streets and squares.

Some parts of the city so French, other, such as the Grand Place with its heavy Gothic architecture very … I was going to say Germanic, but Flemish is probably more accurate. We certainly take a lot of pics!

All too soon I am being dragged reluctantly back to the ‘Flixbus’ stop to start the return leg to Blighty. I would love to have stretched this out for another 24 hours. Back on home soil, I do manage to briefly extend our break when I espy and report an ‘unattended bag’ on the shuttle back to the car park and we, along with all the other passengers, are evacuated …. for 15 minutes until the next shuttle arrives!

But it’s only a short delay until I am back home… and already dreaming of my next trip. The financial barrier of paying for everyone and everything seems to be gone (for now), and my travel bug is definitely back!

December

Thursday 18 December 2025

What a top treat; an afternoon of cocktails, cream tea and too much red wine with my bestie…this was just what the doctor ordered!

Okay, well probably not the first piece of advice any responsible medical professional would give but, nonetheless this was very much needed. Let me elaborate…Okay, well probably not the first piece of advice any responsible medical professional would give but, nonetheless this was very much needed. Let me elaborate…

I currently find myself juggling one full time job and three side-hustles. It’s a long story of navigating a new-ish world of work, after steadier school jobs for 30+ years, saying ‘yes‘ to too many offers and in such a higgledy-piggledy order that I am in gainful employ six days a week. I really love most of it …but six days out of seven is relentless.

Mix in some festive concerts, which I’ve sandwiched into the few gaps on my calendar and it is safe to say that a week out from Christmas, I am done!

So, I book an afternoon off, call my bestie to arrange our annual ‘cream tea’ and set out to let my hair down and forget about responsibilities for a few hours. And it is fabulous: incredible cocktails, sumptuous red wine and the sort of terrific conversations you can only have with a pal whose known you for 5 decades and is every bit as tipsy as your are.

A marvellous re-charge of the batteries and the perfect curtain raiser to the holidays. I now feel fully in the mood for seasonal frivolities. So, as afternoon melts into evening, join us in a final toast to friendship, to festivities and to finding your way in new jobs and challenges ….

The Christie Garden of Hope

Friday 19 December 2025

It is the last Friday before Christmas, which in these parts mean it’s ‘Mad Friday’! And, as I meet a friend for festive drinks, the city centre is certainly starting to liven up.

In the steamy Christmas Market cabins, glasses of Gluhwein and tankards of beer lubricate the larynxes for many a rowdy rendition of ‘Last Christmas, I gave you my heart…‘ and ‘… the boys of the NYPD choir were singing Galway Bay...’. Other bars are equally a-buzz of business and many shops are cashing in on a flurry of late night shoppers.

But then we turn a corner…into Manchester’s St John’s Gardens on Lower Byrom Street.

All is suddenly calm, gentle classical music floats in the air and a magical sight lies before us. A sea of illuminated roses, most white and some blue, cluster together and cover the gardens in every direction. We appear to have stumbled across somewhere very special; it is just stunning and completely stops us in our tracks.

What is this place?

We learn that it is The Christie Charity Garden of Hope, a beautiful immersive light installation made up of hundreds of pre-lit white roses — each one displaying a message of love and hope dedicated to someone special.

Its aim is to raise vital funds for The Christie Charity, supporting their lifesaving and life-changing work for people affected by cancer and, what a beautiful way to do this, creating a collective tribute of light and love to brighten the festive season. We take a while to wander, reflect and, for now, be thankful.

As we leave this perfect space, it is quickly back into the hurly burly of Mad Friday and I enjoy this too! But it is the peace and beauty of the Garden of Hope, that stays with me long after our final drink is poured and a last chorus of ‘Fairy Tale of New York‘ is sung…..

‘Our treat Mum!’

Tuesday 23 December 2025

Well knock me down with a feather, you will not believe what happened this evening…

I have children back in residence. All three are currently here and, in many ways, it feels like a regression back to the teen years. Everyone but me having a lie-in. Mostly just me cleaning the house, grappling with shopping bags and deciding what we are all going to eat. And… the squabbling, oh my goodness the squabbling….get me out of here!

And so, this evening, as Prom Dress daughter finally finishes work, I suggest that we all do exactly that! Get on our glad-rags, leap in the car and celebrate with tea at a local restaurant.

It goes down a treat.

I drive, drop off the offspring and then go to park. By the time I’ve navigated to a space in the local multi-storey and trekked back to our eatery of choice, they have ordered themselves cocktails and all is relaxed and happy. We have a lovely evening, but the seismic shock comes when we summons the bill….

Before I can even start looking for my purse, the bill is whisked out of my hands, and I hear the phrase,

“No, mum, this is our treat!“

Err, what’s that you say? Did I hear right? Oh my goodness; I am momentarily lost for words …this is an absolute first!

Naturally, I pull myself together to convey effusive thanks because I am completely bowled over by this. After so many years of paying for everyone and everything, this feels like quite a moment.It feels incredible. It needs to be marked. It must be recorded and remembered.

And so it is that I give it a blog post of its own..