Something on your “to-do list” that never gets done.
Admin, admin admin!!
Why is there so much admin to grind through, in so many workplaces?
So, if the pointless previosly paperwork (now screen!) task fails the ‘two clicks and quick‘ test…I just don’t do it!!
And here’s the thing, I’ve been working for nearly 4 decades…never once been pulled up for this! Does this prove that it’s not even essential…or am I just too scary to challenge?
Eek!!
Wednesday 28 January 2026
Now that I’ve finally caught up on Christmas, it is time to move onto New Year… and resolutions!
I’ve got a cracker of a resolution for 2026; I resolve to go out to the cinema to see a new film at least once a month!
Come on people, as annual goals go, this one is genius! Get’s us out of the house, broadens the mind, it’s fun, it’s fascinating… hey it even supports the local economy!
The inspiration comes on 31 December, where I am seeing in the new year with friends in The Lake District. We escape the wintry, afternoon chills at a charming cinema in Ambleside, with beers, comfy seats, and the thrills of ‘The Housemaid’. And, although I am often watching from behind my coat (this movie is tense!), I really enjoy myself and am reminded how much I love the big screen experience. No phones, no distractions, just the chance to lose yourself in a world of fantasy, escapism, characters and plots. And in that moment, my resolution is made!
With true resolutiobary zeal, upon my return, we kick off January with two tickets for Oscar nominated ‘Hamnet’… so what was my verdicton this much lauded movie offering?
To be honest, having heard such rave reviews, I was a little disappointed. I’d settle on ‘good but not great’. There are some intense moments, I was mesmerised by much of the woodland cinematography and the ending is almost chokingly unbearable. But for large parts of the film, I found the plot somewhat empty and disjointed, with several story lines that dwindle rather than develop. Crucially, Hamnet fails to fully engage my emotions, which I really wasn’t expecting. Quite the opposite in fact; I had settled into the cushioned chairs, with a good Italian beer, expecting to be drawn in from the start and to love it all.
Perhaps every year there’s at least one movie that seemingly everyone but me thinks is a masterpiece… maybe a simple difference of opinion or maybe I’ve just missed something?
Regardless, I’ve launched my movie adventures for 2026 and am already devouring Rotten Tomato reviews looking for February’s pick…
Saturday 22 January 2026
Is this really my first post of 2026?
It is true that January has been hectic but now that I have found a 10 minute space to get my thoughts together, lets take a breath and look back… at Christmas….
When I started blogging, I lived, as the only adult, in a home of three teenagers, occasional guinea pigs, goldfish and even a gecko. I was ‘Mum’… single-Mum… the provider of all festive cheer; Christmas decs, Christmas trees, Christmas food and … and the biggest challenge for any parental combination ….presents!
Oh my goodness, scrambling together the money for them from a stretched family budget, scouring the shops and internet sites to find them and then, in a chilled panic on Christmas Eve, when shops are now shut and all options are gone, wrapping and … counting them.
“Counting them?” I hear you cry.
Yes, you hear me correctly. I had three teens. If those three pillow-cases of gifts did not contain exactly the same number of parcels, filling the same volume of space and appearing to reflect the same monetary value… then you could cut the atmosphere with a knife. Ha ha ha … a lounge scene more akin to a tense gathering at the UN than wholesome John Lewis advert.
But that was then. Roll the clock forward six or seven years and things are a lot more relaxed. Two of my offspring are now earners and when I come down on Christmas morning, I find that my own pile of presents is a large as anyone else’s. And they are such lovely thoughtful gifts that I am quite overcome. And these are my three favourites: a new Kindle, because mine went on a trip to Kathmandu a year ago and did not return, a new washbag, because someone noticed that on a recent trip to Brussels I had my toiletries in a plastic bag and then… from my son a piece of music.
But not just any piece of music. No, this is the beautifully printed notes for Elevazione! And back in 2022, the first item on ‘My Bucket List’ was this:
‘Learn to play the oboe part of Elevazione: Domenico Zipoli“
I have looked and looked for it but it is Smallboy who has, not only found the parts but has also gone one astonishing step further. My amazing boy has used the string accompaniment parts to arrange his own piano part. (The girls tell me later that this has taken him weeks to do!)
“So we can play the piece together Mum!”
It takes my breath away… I am lost for words.
And today, as 2026 is close to reaching its second month, I love that I have found time to look back and mark these precious moments in a blog post. Maybe all the Christmas-stress of the teen years and worrying about keeping everyone else happy was just paving the way for these calmer times … and the days when I would feel like the one appreciated and thought about? Or, maybe I just got lucky and was given three wonderful kids…
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..
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…..
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…
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 ….
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!
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…
Wednesday 27 August 2025
Did you know that 70 years ago today, the first GWR (Guinness World Record) book was published?
Yes; that is the glorious news that broadcasts from my radio this morning and over a morning cuppa, I listen to the fascinating back story of this stalwart of British society. The beloved tome, actually stems back to 1951, when Sit High Beaver, managing director of the Guinness Brewery had an idea for a book to settle a pub argument about the fastest game bird. He hired Norris and Ross McWhirter, who compiled facts and statistics, resulting in the first edition of The Guinness Book of Records, published on August 27, 1955, in the UK. Initially intended as a promotional item for the brewery, the book quickly became a bestseller and an annual Christmas gift for so many of us in the 1970s and 1980s.
Did I say glorious news? I absolutely did. Because for the next 15 minutes, in place of the usual grim news that has clouded this Summer in the UK, we celebrate memories of the crazy, the quirky and the downright fabulous. The world’s longest moustache, the most people on a surf board, the tallest lego tower, the record for winning the most gurning world titles.. and of course those longest of curling fingernails … there really is no end of creative ways to get your name in the history books!
It is the tales of often ordinary folk doing something extraordinary for the very joy of challenging oneself, grabbing life by the horns and living it to the full. And, unlike most of our daily depression of news, it cause no hate, no harm and no division. In fact, it makes me laugh out loud and transports me, in an instant, back to my childhood.
You must be with me, fellow UK survivors of the 1970s and 1980s. For who doesn’t recall the TV show? The exuberant Roy Castle, tap dancing across the screen, trumpet in hand and inspiring the tea-time viewers with his round up of the latest wacky record to fall.
Was it a simpler, nicer time back then? Is the crazy, the quirky and the downright fabulous actually the best of ‘ being British’ …or is it just an affectionate wave of nostalgia?
All too soon the radio presenters of 2025 move onto other stories. It is predictably gruesome, so I opt for a few more moments in the past. I flick the off- button and head to my desk instead singing a cheerier tune
If you want to be the best . And you want to beat the rest . Ooh-ooh! Dedication’s what you need
Sunday 27 July 2025
When my ‘culture vulture’ friend comes to town, I know it is going to be a full on weekend of arty exploration and experiences …
On Saturday we head to Haworth and Bronte country. The picture postcard town and the Parsonage, where the family lived, are popular tourist spots; but this is not the main focus of our trip.
No we park the car, don our walking gear and set out on the 4-mile hike to Top Withins, a ruined farmhouse on the moors, which the Bronte hopefuls have suggested may be the inspiration for Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights itself. Could any expedition be more up my street…I really struggle to imagine one!
Whilst the literary critics are less convinced about the theory and the Bronte Society itself claims that ‘The buildings, even when complete, bore no resemblance to the house she described‘, no-one can deny the setting, which is wild, remote and wonderful
“Top Withens and the views from it encapsulate the landscape that inspired the Brontës’ writing and continues to be a place of pilgrimage for visitors from all over the world“
And I am sold. My mum claims that my middle name was chosen in homage to the heroine of this novel and so, in my fanciful head, even the wind carries whispers of ‘Cathy’ and ‘Heathcliff’ as we trek towards our destination.
Yet, even a romantic fool such as I cannot ignore the clear signs along the route that we have moved on from the 19th Century. The beautiful ‘Bronte waterfall’ lies roughly half way along the trail and, not only are there quite a few other ramblers gathered here, but also signs in both English…and Japanese!!
Well… you can’t have everything I guess . Plus, as we eventually, find our way back to Haworth, ( after trying to forge our own circular route adds, in hindsight, an extra 30 minutes to our journey) I must confess that the distinctly modern reward of an Iced Matcha Latte is a welcome delight!
Revived and refreshed, we find time to stroll the pretty cobbled streets of Haworth and visit the family home at the Parsonage before wending our way home.
Sunday dawns and we set the SatNav for Liverpool and the Biennial, the UK’s largest contemporary visual arts festival.
Liverpool is always a fantastic place to visit, pulsating with life, colour and personality. And it is a perfect setting for such an innovative arts trail. We see videos and installations in Chinatown, located in small warehouses and even a housing association. We explore exhibits in new arts centres and also established and esteemed galleries across the city. And we tour the magnificent Anglican Cathedral to admire tapestries and glass sculptures.
It is not simply art, its is also the location, and the festival celebrates the amazing sights and diversity of Liverpool itself. Between the installations, it is terrific just to stroll and enjoy this town. Lunch on the Docks with the sun dancing on the famous Mersey and the backdrop of the Liver buildings, well what could be better?
A fantastic weekend indeed and as my friend and I part company, at Lime Street Station, one of us on the train to London and one one of us heading back home on the M62 , we know we shall be meeting again soon. The question is … what adventures we’ll get up to next time!
Smashing Single Parenthood 