I woke up feeling quite sad this morning. The radio comes on at 6.30am, and penetrates my sub-conscious for a good half an hour before I properly wake up. I listen to BBC Somerset so that it will be mainly nice stories about old men who have been making their own cider for 50 years and dogs who have rescued cats from small house fires, but this morning there was no getting away from Syria.

My dreams between 6.30am and 7am then followed a bizarre plot line – I was responsible for finding a new manager for Yeovil Town, who were actually a group of school girls all dressed in orange, at the same time as canvassing MPs for how they were going to vote today.

It was very stressful.

I’m sure it’s a terribly naive way of thinking, but it just feels wrong. It’s just not been the same since they sacked Gary Johnson. I’m kidding, I mean Syria of course. Perhaps there really is no alternative, but it feels to me a bit like blowing up a wasps nest because you don’t want to get stung. Surely you’re just going to make the wasps even madder? View Post

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I had a bit of an early start to Christmas this year. On November 22nd I went to see a live performance of The Snowman at my local theatre, performed by its resident orchestra, Southern Sinfonia.

As a child, The Snowman was a Christmas Eve staple, although looking back, I think it was probably more just a way to kill time until going to bed and waking up again on Christmas Day. This performance was something extra special though – the film was projected in silence onto a screen, while the orchestra played along live with the action. It was absolutely beautiful. Being able to see the instruments playing in time to the film, to see how each sound was created, brought a whole new kind of magic to proceedings. I felt like I was seeing it for the first time.

I’m sure a lot of families would consider The Snowman to be a part of their Christmas traditions, but it’s always interesting to take a peek into other people’s lives at this time of the year because everyone does things so differently. Apart from The Snowman then, what rituals make Christmas for me?

Here are four I wouldn’t do without: View Post

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This week I have been trying to act casual.

You can tell because my face gets that odd, tense look and my laugh gets a little high pitched. The overall effect is of someone trying to look dead casual, and failing miserably, looking instead like they might be having a mini stroke.

It’s because I’ve been getting excited about going to the Vuelio Blog Awards on Friday in London. I’m one of four people up for the parenting award, and I’m incredibly flattered to have been chosen. It’s not like some blogging awards, which are chosen based on votes and are essentially popularity contests, it has been judged by a panel of experts, and as a result it feels much more special – a bunch of people who don’t even know me have sat down, looked at the UK blogosphere, read loads of parent blogs, and picked mine as one of their favourites. It feels pretty ace.

I’m trying to act casual though because I’m not sure it’s terribly cool to admit that actually you really, really want to win. I think I’m meant to say that it doesn’t matter to me whether or not people like what I write, or how many people read it, or whether it makes them laugh or cry. I think I’m meant to say that I do it just for the love, because I want to share my thoughts with the world and it doesn’t matter to me if only one person reads them.

That’s nonsense of course.

We all want to be liked and respected, we all want to do well, and I of all people am driven by wanting to be recognised as being good at what I do. I have always thrived on praise, like a small child. If I win, this will be me:

Vuelio Blog Awards

So, what’s my point?

I guess it’s a thank you really. It is a cliché, but it’s true that this whole thing just wouldn’t be the same without you. Everybody that has ever read my blog, or told their friends about it, or tweeted a link to a post they loved, has contributed to its success. You might be reading this for the first time, (in which case, hoorah!), or maybe you’ve been reading for years, and have stuck with me through the ups and downs and frequent moaning and ranting. (Double hoorah!)

Whatever the case, thank you. Thank you for helping me to create something that means I can work flexibly around my family, and get to do cool stuff, and spend my time writing. I really, really appreciate it. That means more to me than any award.*

Wish me luck!

Vuelio Blog Awards

*Very nearly true.

Photo credit – Melpomene and  Luis Molinero/shutterstock

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DIY advent balloons

I’m assuming you all had a go at my trick or treat balloons last month?

Good.

And you enjoyed it so much that you’d like another balloon craft activity for this month?

Excellent. Of course. Well you’ve come to the right place. This weekend I had a go at making some advent calendar balloons, which I think make a thoughtful alternative to simply giving your kids a shaped piece of cheap, nasty tasting chocolate every day during December.

My idea works as follows – every day you choose a teeny tiny gift, or write a lovely note with a special message, or reminder to do something festive, and you seal it up in a box, jar, or some sort of carefully crafted container. Every morning, before your children have woken up, you fill a balloon with helium, tie it to the gift with a length of suitably festive ribbon or string, and leave it outside their door.

Yes, it is a bit of a faff, and it will involve you getting up early and having a tank of helium in your bedroom for a month, but come on!! This is Christmas!! Time to make the effort. View Post

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elderberry syrup

I blame my fiancé for the weather at the moment. Throughout the beginning of November, when the weather was lovely and mild, he kept complaining about wanting it to be colder. And now look! Sure, it’s probably not actually his fault, unless he is a lot more powerful than I ever suspected, but he’s certainly got his wish. Yesterday my car beeped at me for the first time in the season, to let me know that the temperature had dropped to four degrees.

It’s not that I don’t like the cold weather – I love nothing more than a crisp winter day and a bright blue sky – it’s just that I’m not so keen on the stuff that goes with it, the dry skin from too much central heating, the coughs and colds and the general sluggishness that comes with spending too much time inside eating stew.

Fortunately, it doesn’t have to be that way. Sebastian Pole is Pukka Herbs‘ co-founder and master herb smith. He came up with five tips for me to help us stay well this winter. Stick to these and, like us, you’ll hopefully feel a lot perkier. We’ve certainly yet to be struck down by any winter bugs. View Post

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As you may have seen from my Instagram recently, I have been thoroughly enjoying my new Harris Tweed cape from Cocoon Luxe. It’s not like anything I have ever owned before, in the fact that it is actually designed and made for real grown ups and I didn’t get it from a charity shop or Sainsbury’s.

I was a bit nervous about what it would actually look like on. I’ve only ever seen very glamourous women wearing capes, women who I would describe as ‘willowy’ in that skinny-because-they-don’t-even-like-white-bread-even-as-a-treat kind of way. I don’t usually describe myself as graceful or elegant, so I was a bit worried that I would look sort of like a toddler dressed up in her mother’s luxury tweed cape, (as we all did at some point or another as children).

When it arrived, however, all of my doubts were cast to one side. I DID look glamorous, and far from making me less willowy, despite the fact that I thought it would make an outfit look a bit top heavy, it actually fitted really nicely and gave the illusion that I could be a size 8 underneath it. No one would be able to tell.

My first outing with the cape was in Stow-on-the-Wold when we stayed at the Old Stocks Inn. There is a considerable amount of tweed in Stow-on-the-Wold, so the cape helped me to fit in.  View Post

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Sometimes my Mummy asks me if I would like a glass of wine or a tumbler full of gin or something.

For a second I am confused. “Hmmmm,” I think, “has she forgotten that I am a baby? Maybe if I just slowly accept the drink she won’t realise…”

And then I remember that I am a whole 20 whole years old and that basically I can do whatever I want, because I am a real life grown up.

*Eats seventh Jaffa Cake in a row because nobody can stop me.*

My journey of discovery with alcohol has taken many paths over the years. Currently I don’t think I will ever be able to drink cider ever again after, well, spending the first few years of being a teenager in Somerset. White wine I just plain don’t like and rose makes me feel like I’m on a “cheeky night out with the girlies”. You know what I mean. Red wine is usually my go to if it’s before 8pm and it appears to be socially unacceptable to drink hard spirits.

My favourites though are gin and whisky. I had heard the name of gin whispered around the parent blogging community for many years before I actually first drank it at a wedding this summer. I was absolutely hooked and the best thing is it never makes me vomit because it is sugar free. Aces.

A great drink I also discovered this summer at Standon Calling festival was slightly warm Lidl multivitamin juice carton (you know the ones that you always seem to have on a long car journey even though usually you don’t shop at Lidl and you’re not quite sure where they came from) with what I’m pretty sure was Famous Grouse in it. It sounds totally dog, but it was great, especially for taking the edge off putting up a tent with Belle. (She was better at it than me.) View Post

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A few weeks ago I had an email from the people at Popchips.

“We want you to have some fun,” the said. “Go out and do something new or unusual or exciting!”

“Sounds cool,” I said, “what do I need to do exactly?”

“Whatever you want!” said Popchips. “We just want you to try something new – actually, six things to be precise, one for each bag of Popchips in a multipack!”

Crisps, fun times – what’s not to love? I was in.

But then came the tricky bit. When someone gives you completely free rein, it can be hard to decide what you actually want to do. I started mulling it over, thinking about the things I enjoyed doing, the sort of things that perhaps I had never done but really wanted to. What is it that I love? What are my favourite things?

And then I hummed songs from The Sound of Music to myself for a little bit.

Of course! What I needed was a theme. No random adventures for me – I needed a plan for my spontaneous fun!

And this was it… View Post

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I did two things yesterday.

I mean, dur, obviously I did more than two actual things – I got up and showered and got dressed and everything like that. What I meant was that I did two things – two activities that stood out, stuff I don’t do in a regular day.

Thing one – I went out in the evening to the 10Radio studios in Wiveliscombe, where I’m a community radio volunteer, and delivered a Twitter workshop to about 20 other volunteers. I had slides and everything.

Thing two – I went to the launderette for a service wash.

(I know right? I’m living the absolute dream. If you have ever felt like jacking in your well-paid, full-time job and embracing the life of a freelancer, this is going to be that moment – the tipping point you look back on for years to come, when you decided that yes, it was the life for you.)

Standing up in front of a room full of people and talking about Twitter for 40 minutes was easy peasy. I was looking forward to it if anything. It’s something I’ve done quite a bit of, I know my stuff, and I love being the centre of attention. Ace.

The launderette though… View Post

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I’ve been accused in the past of being flighty or fickle, of giving up on things. 

My first reaction has often been a defensive one, partly because the people who’ve said these things in the past have often said them meaning them to be hurtful, and when you know something is meant as a criticism, it’s hard to take it otherwise. Also though, there is a part of me that wonders if they might be right, and if that makes me a bad person.

Because the truth is that I do give things up quite often. I went along to a local drama group for a few months and then changed my mind, I’ve tried body pump and hated every minute, I’ve started jobs and left them, I’ve moved house a lot, I’ve started classes and stopped again, and I even have about 15,000 words of a murder mystery novel written somewhere. I do give up on things.

But I also try a lot of things.

I could easily have not given up any of those things, by simply not trying them in the first place, but where would be the fun in that? How are you meant to know if you are going to enjoy something unless you give it a go? And just because something is fun at a certain point in your life, does that mean you’re stuck with it forever? 

There is also a lot to be said for having a level of awareness that enables you to recognise when a task is fruitless, a job unsuitable, and let it go. Sure, sometimes you do just have to get on with things – you can’t leave the washing up indefinitely – but there is evidence that relentless determination, the sort that ex-boyfriends would have liked to have seen more evidence of in me, is actually overrated. 

Oliver Burkeman, writing in his regular spot in The Guardian recently, talked about new research that showed that this sort of ‘grit’ isn’t always a good thing. Apparently, the research showed that ‘grittier people were likelier to keep grappling with hard, or even unsolvable puzzles, even when it led to lower overall scores and chances of cash rewards.’

That doesn’t sound cool does it? Ambition and determination are one thing, but it’s important to remember that pushing yourself on and on regardless isn’t always going to lead to success. Sometimes you just have to stop, and accept that something isn’t working out for you. There’s a big difference between simply giving up and recognising when it’s time to move on.

I don’t think there is any shame in giving up on something, as long as you’re prepared to give it a go in the first place and you learn a little bit about yourself along the way, even if it’s just that you don’t like body pump.

How do you feel about giving things up? Does it make you feel guilty or are you comfortable with your choices?

giving up

 

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This week, my fiancé brought a lot of belongings home from a place that we have been referring to as ‘fake storage’. Fake storage, because every now and again he would drop into conversation that he had an item that was ‘in storage’, and yet nothing ever appeared.

“Don’t buy a griddle pan,” he would say, “I’ve got one those in storage.”

“At Christmas I’ll be wearing my red Christmas trousers,” he’d tease us with, “once I get them out of storage.”

The storage, however, was far from fake.

We now have a flat full of assorted kitchen items, brightly coloured trousers, sheet music and cricket memorabilia. It’s not that I don’t like having his things here, I love that it now feels like the house belongs to us both, it’s just that you can’t help but come in after a day at work and think you’ve accidentally stepped onto the set of Secret Hoarders.

If I’m honest, I was a little freaked out about it when fake storage day came around. I couldn’t figure it out for a while, and then I realised that I’ve never really lived with someone who has had their own stuff. Sure, they’ve turned up with clothes and the odd salad spinner or something, but not hefty items. No king sized beds or bookcases or golf clubs. I’ve never even had a picture up in my house that wasn’t my own.

In a way though, it feels like a fresh start – a chance to take stock and figure out what stuff is really important to us and how we want our home to look. What better way to be inspired then, and escape the boxes full of DVDs for a happy hour, than with a browse on Pinterest. In fact, I put together a whole Pinterest board for Furniture Village, with all of my ideas for a cosy Autumn bedroom.

Check it out here. It includes pastries.

Autumn interiors View Post

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*The free sample offer has now expired, sorry about that – click HERE to enter a draw to win a spa break for two instead!*

I’ve been having migraines since I was about 12 years old.

When I was younger, they always followed a very specific pattern. They would always come on at the same time in the morning – just after nine o’clock – when I was at school, going between registration and assembly.

Writing that now, it feels like it can’t actually be true – how many people really get migraines at exactly the same minute every single time? I swear it happened like that though. Every memory I have of them coming on at school is on that walk between my tutor room and the school hall, through the courtyard that sat in the middle of the school.

They would start with a weird sensation that things didn’t look quite as they were meant to look – bright lights and blind spots are always common with my migraines. The next couple of hours where then always the worst; knowing that the headache was coming, but unable to do anything about it, presenting myself at the nurse’s office, for her to look suspiciously at me for a while until I threw up with the pain and she was convinced. I’d then have to spend an unpredictable amount of time lying on the bed in the sick room while I waited for my mum to be at home to answer the phone and then come and collect me.

Nowadays they are a bit more haphazard. They don’t start at a predictable time of the day, and they are far less frequent – the trigger now seems to be stress rather than hormones – but the sense of dread that comes with the onset of the disturbed vision remains the same. View Post

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