life

I got on the plane!

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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!

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…

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…

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…

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…

New Bloggings!

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Monday 1 April 2024

Gosh it’s been a while since I penned a blog!

So as the Easter weekend dawns and the sun breaks out from behind the rain clouds, I do have to face the garden for a good few hours of mowing, weeding ,pruning and …. I know, bring me a pipe and slipper and call me ‘grandad‘ … but thereafter, I fire up the lap top and sit down to muse bank on March and forward to April.

Quite frankly, what didn’t happen in March? As I look back, I can see exactly why my beloved blog had to take a backseat.

Prom-dress daughter first learned that she has a severe case of glandular fever (with some alarming complications). This was, and still is, a real worry on many fronts and has led to several weekends of pelting up and down the M6 and M74 to Edinburgh and, for me, wondering what is the best course of action for her health, her happiness, her degree course and my financial survival.

Small boy was, and still is, balancing a ramping up of A level workload with a grade 8 piano exam, tons of playing in Youth Orchestras and college productions plus … far too many 18th birthday parties. At times, he has been too exhausted to eat. So, as his ‘kick ass single -mum’, I am insisting that he hears the word ‘no’ more often than usual and this has led to conflict on more than one occasion!

My eldest, who is ever buried under a mammoth medical-student workload, received the exciting news that she had been accepted, via random ballot, for the Great North Run in September 2024, … alongside the bombshell that none of her friends had. In consequence, many lonely months of training for a half marathon looms…and is, understandably, in something of a panic.

And somewhere in he middle is me. The sponge expected to soak it all up and somehow solve it all and always say ‘yes ‘ and ‘where to‘ and ‘what time’ and always be on hand ‘for a chat‘.

Only I seem to be aware that I also have a full time job, worries of my own and the occasional dream… that no- one hears about. So, all in all, it has been a month when it has felt incredibly tough to be me! On Thursday, when I left for work, realised I’d left my laptop at home, drove back, located the machine, popped into the kitchen for a quick glass of water and them promptly set off without it again, I thought ‘Blimey I am tired…I may even ‘be done’?’

But that was Thursday, I have slept since then and April is a new month, so a new start. And come what may, I resolve to make sure I find time for a weekly pause to blog back and then look forward. It can only help …