This post is dedicated to my sister and my mother, with due apologies to the former and a drum roll of honour for the latter.
Continue reading “The Cream Heist”The Cream Heist
Mornings like these
5am.
I wake up to the clang of a plate falling and being hurriedly retrieved. It’s H, I know.
‘Clumsy as ever,’ I murmur to myself as I mentally shake my head and turn over with a sigh. Part of me wonders vaguely if I should get up and check the damage but then sleep claims me.
Continue reading “Mornings like these”On the hunt for ideas
One day, when my son was 6, I watched him as he put on his socks.
He studied each of his toes, decided his big toe made for a good gun and pretended to spray the room with bullets. Then he examined the socks, put them on, studied the dinosaur design, realised they were inside out, so off they came and it began all over again. And then there was the other foot. All this while I stood, one eye on the clock, an ear out for the school bus which would arrive any moment.
Continue reading “On the hunt for ideas”I, Me, Myself
If you’ve been a visitor here you’ll know I’m a bit of an obsessive mom (duh!) and an obsessive reader.
But there’s more. Today I am digging out, from my deep dark past, ten things you probably didn’t know about me.
Continue reading “I, Me, Myself”If I stopped being a writer
Once, at a Litfest, my friend and I were attending a session and the speaker asked the audience, ‘How many of you are writers?’ My friend had just signed a contract for her very first book and her hand shot up almost on its own.
I however, found myself hesitating. ‘Am I writer?’ A journalist, yes. An editor, yes. But a writer?
Continue reading “If I stopped being a writer”