Due to Confusing But Boring Domestic Circumstances, OH and I ended up having a quintessentially British lunchtime picnic in the rain today. We had cold sausages and roast potatoes and tomatoes and a cup of tea each, sat in the car as the windows misted up. Continue reading “monumental”
Category: #WritersLife
the pain and the glory
We’re at the Children’s Hospice this week – as some of you know, our child is life-limited, with an undiagnosed, but progressive, neuro-muscular disease. So we get to hang out here three or four times a year. Which is not nearly as grim at it sounds. As you can see, this morning we are exploring My Little Pony nomenclature in the conservatory. N gets round the clock care from people other than us, and we all get fed and rested and generally looked after. It’s great (she said, in a plucky, ‘making the best of it’ type of voice).
As you can see from the photo, both OH (stripey jumper, attempting to stand up ponies) and I both have our laptops open. We are going for NaNoWriMo. Yes, folks. We are doing it.
Which is, clearly, why I’m blogging and taking pictures of children and faffing around on social media.
let this stand here
My aunt is dying. She’s my mother’s cousin and has no family other than her brother’s children and us. She’s a long way away, the other side of the country. She’s ninety-five and has been in and out of hospital, getting more and more frail, since her closest friend died in the autumn. Continue reading “let this stand here”
the different lives we live
I’ve been pondering all the different lives we live, recently. I’m in my mid forties and so far I’ve done and been lots of things:
Student, of archaeology, history, GIS, sci-fi; IT professional doing GIS, which was pretty cutting edge at the time; IT teacher, to retired people mostly, or to the long term unemployed; Audio Visual technician – a trainee, really, helping my OH in our business. Continue reading “the different lives we live”
rabbit redux
I had planned to spend today being all authorly and actually doing some writing. Instead I have spent most of my time finding my poor husband’s missing thirty five thousand Scrivener words that disappeared when our passive-aggressive house rabbit jumped on his keyboard. There’s a lesson there that all of us can all learn from, I think, including the rabbit. The rabbit is now sitting on the rug in front of the fire, glaring at OH, who is deliberately ignoring him, focusing very hard on his laptop and not lighting the fire.