Author: beckyjo125

Is there a doctor in the house?

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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…

Easter Sunday 2025

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Sunday 20 April 2025

Easter Sunday… April 20th…gosh where have I been?

It has been weeks since I last penned a blog post.

I am not entirely sure why, but I think I just fell out of the routine and stopped writing. And I really want to get back into the blog. So what better day for a new beginning or a reawakening than Easter Sunday!

So, glass of wine in hand, here goes. Life is good.. and not just because of the Riesling or the chocolate eggs. Many events will merit a post of their own over the next few weeks but for now I’ll sketch out a short start catch-up.

We have a doctor in the family. Woohoo! Yes, my brilliant Eldest child is back from medial elective in Nepal and SE Asia, she has passed all her exams and has secured her first Junior Doctor post. We are also close to having a second graduate in the house, with Prom-dress daughter completing the finishing touches to her dissertation as I write.

And for me, well freelancing is so much less stressful than my previous work that I have time to do all things that I actually want to do. I have played with many different musicians, met new faces and, more importantly, spent lots of time with those I already like a lot. I know my heart, I know my head and it is time to steer my ship to the shore of happy endings. And I’d like to write about it all… as I have done for a few years.

So, this week’s challenge is carving out some blog time… will refill my glass, because I say ‘Cheers to that!’

A world without Windsor…

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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…

The February Birthdays

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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 …

Kathmandu …

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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…

How to impress your children…

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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…

Christmas 2024

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Monday 30 December 2024

Sitting with a coffee and one, of many, left over mini-mince pies, it seems the perfect moment to look back at the festive break…

Once all my kids are safely home, despite load upon load of dirty washing and a speeding ticket, courtesy of the variable-speed-lottery of the M5, it ffeels as if Christmas has begun. It means help with the food shop, extra hands for decorations, time-honoured  cheesy festive films and a house full of laughter and companionship again.

And so to the ‘big day’ itself. Much is familiar: guests, food, crackers, games and fizz.

But there are a few new twists. The hot water packs in on Christmas Eve, so it is cold showers for the hard-core (and a bit of festive grime for the rest) throughout the social season.

Most significant of all, there is  an extra pair of hands in the kitchen… the ill-fated Smallboy. Buoyed by the success of some roast potatoes he’d served up for pals at Uni, he begged to join the Christmas cooking crew. But scarcely had we added his name to the spreadsheet … oh yes, you heard me right, I never do the Xmas dinner without microsoft excel … than calamity starts to dog his every culinary move. Half of our usual crispy spuds became an impromptu mash… and the first tray of turkey had to be hurriedly scooped from the floor, whilst we distracted guests with crackers and paper hats.

I also branch out with my desserts, introducing after -dinner-coffee with  a mini mince pie – Ta da!  In my head,  ‘ultra-chic’. In reality, it goes down about as well as last year’s ‘signature cocktails’ … not a single blinkin’ taker! And hence why, with January on the horizon, I am still munching my way through several boxes of the darned festive pastries!

With the cooking done and the board games exhausted we sink happily down to watch the ‘Gavin and Stacey Christmas Special‘ and my oh my it does no disappoint. I mean. if you were not misty eyed as Mick stands up at the wedding ceremony and up on your feet cheering as the entire cast race to Portsmouth,,, quite frankly, what is wrong with you?

And so the sun sets on another spell of festive cheer. Smith and Ness are married, me and my kids have been re-united. For now, at least, all is well with the world…

Being a mum, being a daughter…

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23 November 2024

It is Smallboy’s first performance with his university orchestra and my mum decides that she want to go and listen. The only problem … the 200 miles between us.

Bless Smallboy, he does like his music but I suspect that he may have auditioned for the symphony orchestra in his first term at university mainly to keep me happy. And so, when he mentions a first concert it is a no-brainer that I shall be going to listen but for my mum… well after two years of hospitals, operations and emergency trips to A and E, it feels like a big deal.

For this trip alone, my beleaguered mama announces that she is postponing her latest procedure. A cold dread grips my heart at the prospect of managing it all. Both  my brothers voice concerns and  I lose a few nights sleep driven to distraction by the thought of everything that could go wrong.

But, a small gift from heaven is heading my way. Prom dress daughter heads south for the weekend to lend a hand, exuding her cheery ‘can do’ calm.  I take a deep breath and resolve to put my worries aside. I book a suitable hotel, pump, charge up mum’s heated cushions, and purchase tickets in accessible concert-venue seats. Then, early on Saturday morning, facing the oncoming wrath of Storm Bert, we hit the M6.

And it goes really well. Yes we arrive like drowned rats – Storm Bert is so ferocious that even 2 minutes out of the car, for a quick pit stop, and we are soaked to our very skins. Yes it is a bit of a challenge getting ubers everywhere upon arrival and balancing extra cases, bags and accessories so that mum can concentrate on herself and her walking stick. Yes the interval small-talk with ex-hub and his latest new woman is a bit stilted. But, and it is a big but, those small details aside we have a blast.

Smallboy excels himself with fun restaurants for us all to eat at, plenty of wine is quaffed, the concert is glorious and … one of my favourite moments of all: the hotel bar.

Hotel bars – did you know they were such great places? I think it is where all the fun guests convene in the late night hours. It is, without question, the spot for the ones who are ‘up for a good time’  and know how to make the most of a weekend away.  And one of our party is definitely in that category. 

Is mum tired and ready for bed as we reach the hotel post-concert … hell no!

“Let’s have a quick brandy in the bar first”

is her suggestion. So we hit ‘terrace bar’ on the elevator and stroll in to an amazing atmosphere. The friendliest of bar servers offers not only to bring our cognacs over but also to ‘warm them’. One ‘quick drink’ becomes two … then three and eventually, we all stumble, a little noisily, back to our room, knowing that we shall we sleeping like logs!

Of course, I am exhausted when we finally make it home the next day, after a grim drive through the torrential rain and gloom. And know it takes mum two of three days to recove. But are there any regrets … absolutely none! And here’s why.

When I began my blog I knew that time was ticking on my home, defined by me and my ‘three teens’, and I wrote to capture and cherish those dwindling years as a full time family of four. The truth of life, however, is that time is ticking on all our relationships.

Who knows if we shall be able to manage such a trip again, Our memorable weekend is a timely reminder that it is not just as a mum but also as a daughter, that I need to make time for fun, laughter and patience with all my loved one, because too soon will come a day when such chances run out…

Autumn Half Term 2024

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Friday 25 October 2024

“Half term already?” laughs one of my friends.

Already? Coping with new jobs and being very much out of my comfort zone, I can assure you that the last eight weeks have felt like eight months! What I need right now, to recharge these batteries is ..something familiar! And nothing can be a better familiar than family. So roll on a city-break reunion with my squad as we all descend upon Small boy, the newest university child, for a long weekend.

Some of us drive down and one of us flies in but by Friday evening we are all together, catching-up over some fine food and wine in a riverside eatery. And it feels great to be a four again.

Saturday, after a lazy morning and a lovely hotel breakfast, we shop a little and chat a lot. As night falls and this liveliest of cities ramps up for Halloween celebrations, we head to ‘Urban Tandoor’. Top-rated on Trust Pilot, this restaurant, is rammed and bursting with life. The Indian food is delicious and the atmosphere unbelievable – on at least two occasions, the diners all break into communal song – including us … and we love it!

On a crisp, sunny Sunday, a proud Small boy takes us on a tour of the University itself. The science buildings are beautiful, set in leafy parks and greenery and my son points out places where he sits for lunch, takes a class or attends labs. He clearly loves it!

It is also here that we come upon the bronze life-sized statue of Henrietta Lacks. Hailed as the ‘mother of modern medicine’, Lacks was a young black woman and mother  who died in 1951 of an unusually aggressive form of cervical cancer. While her disease was a tragedy for her family, for the world of medical research – and beyond that, every one of us on the planet – it was something of a miracle.

Because, in the years since her death, Lacks’s cells – taken from her tumour while she was undergoing surgery – have been responsible for some of the most important medical advances of all time. The polio vaccine, chemotherapy, cloning, gene mapping and IVF: all these health milestones, and many more, owe everything to the life, and death, of a young mother. Henrietta’s cells however were taken without her or her family’s knowledge or consent and as a result her name is also synonymous with ethical issues, eloquently expressed in the statue’s inscription

More than a cell.

To all the unrecognised Black Women who have contributed to humanity, you will never be forgotten. 

It is very inspirational. To remember that we are all actually, ‘more than a cell’ and have a contribution to make, whether this be like Small boy dreaming of a Nobel Prize or me, now old and wise enough to recognise that it is these very family bonds and deep relationships which anchor us to humanity and ensure that we are ever-remembered.

So as night falls and I hit the road back North, I definitely feel re-balanced and back in kilter. A new job, a new car, a new music gig these are all just transient superficial changes. The important stuff, your core values and closest ties…they rarely falter and will always be there to steady you at the rockiest of times …

.

Laughs, Lit and late night rehearsals..

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Sunday 13 October 2024

Seriously, how did I ever manage to live life before I dropped to a 4-day week? This has been one busy weekend…

Friday night is dinner and drinks with some old colleagues and it makes me realise, a little sadly, how much less I laugh in my new place of work.

Is the job I have now easier?

Yes!

Is it less stressful?

Yes!

But, and as it turns out it is a big but,

Do I now have, bestie work buddies….?

Alas, I do not. Of course I do not, I have only been there for 7 weeks, whereas I worked for for 14 years in my previous post. And over that long stretch of time, you make some fantastic friendships. You have doors you can knock on, for a rant, a cry or…most importantly the chance to double up with laughter and shake with mirth until tears run down your face. And I don’t think I had realised how much I had missed that and how important it was to me until we arrange our meet up. We share a little wine, we eat good food, swap stories and have a great catch-up.

Saturday, I head to Ilkley and my second trip to the famous literature festival, which really is an incredible event. In the local churches and school halls of this small Yorkshire town, fine writers and many celebrity names, rub shoulders with us mere mortals to give talks about their latest publications. This years’ programme included: Jodi Picoult, Kate Atkinson, Julian Clary, Gyles Brandreth, Prue Leith, John Suchet, Carol Ann Duffy… and Teresa May!

We have tickets for a cricketing talk and Paul Sinha… yes, the guy from ‘The Chase’ and dodge the showers to grab quick coffees and rushed nachos as we hop from one location to another. Its fun, the speakers are engaging and witty and it makes for a great day out.

Sunday, I dash about doing some chores and straightening up the homestead before setting the SatNav for Preston. I have a late night rehearsal, the final one in a trilogy of madness, preparing for a concert next weekend. Three long hours, 7pm to 10pm, has been a killer on a Sunday night and, as a I eventually drive home, the windscreen wipers going nineteen to the dozen as they battle the torrential rain, it is cold and dark and I am a weary woman. But a happy one too.

After all, whats a weekend for… if not for living life to the full…