when it rains

Today it has rained and rained. Three wet dogs and three generations of girls have steamed their way through a long wet day, punctuated by cups of tea, Lovejoy repeats on television and peanut butter on toast.

We are all tired. Now, the girls are in their cot and Kate Walsh’s beautiful tim’s house is singing them to sleep. My feet are aching, and I keep thinking about blogs and other people’s lives. I love to read about lifestyles and homes and other peoples families – and to be inspired by simple things, like a photograph of a sideboard with a jam jar on it full of spring flowers, or a recipe for fruitcake, or someone’s life written brilliantly on a blog.

I want to give my girls so much – not in the material, riches and things way – but in the camping holidays, fairies in the trees, friends over for tea kind of way. My mind has been thinking today of this, and getting muddled in the process. I am thinking of my caravan outside, and how it symbolises that wish. Even though I haven’t taken it out yet and it has green mold growing on the roof, and I’m too scared to tow it! Yet I can’t bring myself to sell it either. Ho hum….

So instead, here is a recipe for a lovely fruitcake. On days like this, with the rain and the steam, and the wet dogs, may I suggest you surrender to the charms of Ian Mcshane (who knew?) in Lovejoy, and cut a large slice to be eaten alongside a very large, steaming cup of tea…..

write at the beginning

I sit and write, listening at the same time, to the snuffling sounds of my 11 week old twin girl-babies sleeping side by side in their cot. This is for them, and about them. Its about learning how to blog, about writing a life and an experience and doing it in a way that feels truthful and real. At the moment there are no angles, or perspectives, just questions and thoughts…

What do I want to say?

How do I say it?

Where is the beginning?

Is it now, at this point, this night, this day, or is it back three years ago, at the start of my IVF and perhaps even before then.

Once again. Breathe.

To begin at the beginning…

Florence and Eliza, this is for you.




To begin at the beginning…

“Aprils have never meant much to me, autumns seem that season of beginning. Spring.”

Truman Capote, Breakfast at Tiffany’s

“I keep turning over new leaves, and spoiling them, as I used to spoil my copybooks; and I make so many beginnings there will never be an end.”

Louisa May Alcott, Little Women

Everything starts with a beginning…..