Notes from an almost-empty-nester
I finish lunch and head to the kitchen only to find that H has left his plate and bowl unwashed in the sink. Again.
Continue reading “Embracing Imperfection: Letting go of parenting guilt a step at a time”
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”
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”
If we were having coffee I’d tell you to pour yourself a cup and keep the kettle close by for this is going to be longish conversation. After all it’s been ages since we met up.
Continue reading “If we were having coffee together – 8”
Imagine your favourite person in the whole world in a boxing match. It’s an important bout and you’ve tried to prepare him the best you can — got the best trainers, the best gloves, directed him to the best resources; done everything you could possibly do.
Continue reading “Of Exams and Results”