Family

University Reunion

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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 business 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 when I already spend much quality time with my favourite folk from the student years.

But now, I am in  a different phase. My children are all grown-up, my job is far more flexible ( and 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 and 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…

Small boy’s freshly baked bread …

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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…

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…

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…

Not everyone can be a domestic goddess…

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Friday 17 May 2024

It is Friday around 8am, a colleagues has arrived at work with a plaster on her arm and is regaling us with the tale that led to the unfortunate injury. It involves a mishap with a knife and some ‘Yankee candles‘ during finishing touches to a family soiree. I am full of sympathy for the cut, which looks truly awful… but inside my head, my own carving knife calamity from earlier this week resurfaces. Alas, the setting is far less glamourous than soirees and atmospheric scentedness … and, not for the first time, I wonder where exactly I was hiding when ‘domestic goddess‘ tips were being handed out…

Let me re-set the scene as we head for my kitchen! I am rushing in, late, from work. Smallboy is wearily busing it home from the library and will be, I am sure, as tired and hungry as I am. I rummage frantically around the freezer and am overjoyed to unearth some burgers, nice burger buns and few French fries. Ok, so I know it’s not topping any health eating gourmet cuisine hit list … but it is quick, easy and a crowd-pleaser. All in all, think I,

“Result!“

Then comes the snag. The burgers come in a box of 10, are frozen solidly together and I only need 2. What to do? Well, I reach for a small knife and start hacking. I crash and hammer cheerily away until I notice the knife…

Oh my goodness … it is missing a bit. But here is the question, was it missing the tip when I started…or is the metal fragment now buried in a burger?

For some unfathomable reason, probably to do with the clock now showing 7:30pm, I decide to hope for the best and ‘cook’ on. As my son, turns his key in the lock I am ready to usher him to a comfy seat and present him with a plate of tasty looking food,

“Err .. there is something you might want to look out for while you eat….!”

I mutter, as he picks up his cutlery to begin.

Thank the Lord that Smallboy has more sense than me. In truth, my son is incredulous and, however famished he may be, all thoughts of putting any of it into his mouth are cast aside and forensic burger dissection is instantly underway. Within seconds he is brandishing a small piece of metal accusingly at me. How appalling! The offending items are cast into the food bin and we finish our long day with a dismal offering of burger buns with French fries and lettuce.

Even by my standards, this was a real lowpoint. Definitely not to be shared with colleagues … even on a Friday morning.  In fact, as there is still 5 minutes before our morning meeting begins,  I decide, instead, that it is time to make ammends. I grab  my phone and text my son,

“I’ll pick you up from the library tonight and … let’s go out for tea!”

A happy half term…

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Sunday 29 October 2023

After a pretty terrible few weeks, half term seems like a gift from the Gods…

From literary exploits in lkley, then a catch-up with my eldest daughter on beautiful Tynemouth beach, to lunching and coffees with friends and family upon my return to the Northwest, the precious week passes by in a happy haze.

Could I also brand it as successful?

‘Well in the Expert Editor blog post ‘8 things unsuccessful people do in their free time’, failing to make time for loved ones comes in at number 4, so maybe I can. Furthermore, the same cautionary list cites ‘ignoring their health’ as the third common trait of the unsuccessful and this week I become something of a fitness fiend with daily yoga on top of gruelling arthritis exercises and lots of walking!

So good fortune is clearly in the air and, lo and behold better is to come. On Thursday night, Smallboy and I are grappling with some A level Physics revision and up to our ears in quarks, baryons and antimatter when a email notification pops onto the screen.

“Oh no mum… it’s from UCAS…it says I have one decision..”

In what feels like an age, my son manages to log into his portal, and sure enough a ‘decision awaits’, He descends into talking gibberish and is clearly in a bit of a panic,

“I think this means a rejection mum, someone at college got an offer last week and she showed me her screen and I’m sure it said offer … not decision.”

But, other UCAS hopefuls take heart, because this is not the case at all. Instead we find Small boy’s first University offer and he is over the moon. Quarks are cast aside as he races off to text… everyone! And to open two celebratory beers to mark the moment,

“This means if I get my grades… I am actually off to Uni”

he repeats several times, as if unable to believe that it is all real. He is excitement and relief all rolled into one.

So, that seals the deal for this half term; a happy and very successful week…

Birthday time in Edinburgh …

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Sunday 6 August 2023

I started my blog in 2019, with a ‘trio of teens, but I am now fast approaching the era of parenting only twenty-somethings, as this month sees Prom-dress daughter become our second vicenarian. As my middle child also lives (almost) permanently in the Scottish capital now, for birthday celebrations, the rest of us head north for a week …

Edinburgh, in August, is in full festival mode. It is hustle and bustle on every corner, with shows, markets, pop up bars and … people! And we have a great time.

One of our highlights is a fabulous Birthday meal at ‘Chez Jules’ in the New Town.

“Friends have told me it’s really good Mum” enthuses Prom dress daughter

“but … (and this bit makes this old quinquagenarian smile) ... you have to call up to get a table!”

Well, hold the front page, I have to actually speak to someone? I can’t just fire up my smart phone and press buttons to make a reservation? However did humankind cope, in the dark pre-iPhone age of the 20th Century?

Anyway, I manage the task of a phone call booking and it is a good job that I do, as at 7:30 prompt, when we descend the steps into the buzz of this popular French Bistro it is rammed. And it is easy to see why – fabulous food, plentiful red wine, brilliant atmosphere and friendly staff all combine to make an evening that is … magnifique!

On another day, we enjoy a first trip to Leith, by the sea. And (when we finally work out how to get out of the Ocean Terminal car park lift!) have a lovely time exploring the shops, cafes and harbour. Small boy wins our ‘Bargain Hunt’ £5 challenge with his (broken) silver cigarette lighter from the large Antiques Centre and we wait to see if it makes him a fortune!

And we round off our trip with the ‘Barbie’ movie, enjoying the film, with pink cocktails and snacks in the comfy armchairs an Everyman Cinema

It is a super fun-flick to finish our week away, with its light-hearted and humorous exploration of gender roles in society. My favourite character has to be ‘weird Barbie’, with her shorn hair and legs stuck permanently in the splits position. She instantly transports me back from the present, where my two sophisticated daughters sit with their Strawberry Daiquiris, to the time when, as under 10’s, they terrorised their own Barbies’, in particular those hairstyles with scissors and felt tip pens.

Gosh, much changes in a decade and, as we wave goodbye to our birthday girl and she moves from teens to twenties, I wonder what the next 10 years will bring…