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Fear. I think I’m probably frightened of lots of things. The dark. Heights. Some dolls and all clowns. Flying. I didn’t used to be frightened of flying,I’d just eat sleep and watch films,but the older I get the more frightened I’m becoming. Or maybe it’s since having children. The first flight that [...] Who would you want to meet in The Loo,The Ladies,The W. C,The Powder Room? This is the most critical question in my life at this exact moment. It’s answer,and how I construct my response,is of the upmost importance to me. Because answer well and I could be in with [...] As I snuck into bed next to my lovely warm sleeping husband the other night I realised two things. 1. It was after midnight and I was still awake. 2. I was the last one going to bed. Wind the clock back eighteen months and these occurrences would never have happened. Eighteen months ago [...] I often wish that I could live parallel lives. Not as in having a secret husband and being a stripper,parallel lives. More that I could live many lives. I don’t suppose they’d need to be parallel,now that I think about it,that’d get ever so confusing. And it’s not because I’m unhappy [...] This post marks the 1st birthday of my blog. Yep,Scribbling Mum is a whole year old today. Who’d have thunk it? This was my first post,A Christmas Nativity –will there be popcorn?. I can remember writing it. Itching to write,not having written anything in so long. It’s a bit embarrassing [...] This post was written as part of Josie’s Writing Workshop and I chose the prompt ‘Imagine 2018′. It is a possible snapshot of what my life could be like in eight years time. I’m hoping the bit about my boobs comes true. —————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————— It’s November 2018. I am 44,the age that my Dad [...] I’ve only gone and lost my mojo. I hear it happens to most bloggers at some point or another,but this week it’s my turn to misplace my writing oompfh. Temporarily I’m hoping. I can still feel it bouncing about in me,it’s there somewhere,it’s just having a wee rest,putting it’s feet [...] |   |
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