I woke up this morning to the devastating news of a terror attack just a few miles away from where myself and my family had been sleeping soundly. A large-scale attack on innocent people with extremely grave consequences: 22 fatalities and scores of wounded, a third of whom are children. And that is so far.
I woke up this morning to the terrifying reality that is the world into which I am bringing my children. I needed to explain to them over their Cheerios and Weetabix that today had brought some very sad news in town, about one baddie versus a lot of goodies, about many people going to heaven together and about why and how such evil can possibly exist. I woke up this morning not well versed to have this conversation, unsure of myself and unprepared.
But as I spoke the words, in a language I hoped they would understand, I wasn’t really present. I was already consumed with how and when I would have to broach Part Two of the terrible story that was unfolding before their very innocent eyes. The part where it was revealed that this was not an isolated incident and where they might see and hear of such depraved, wicked actions and real-life evil monsters and terrifying scenes playing out over and over again in their precious lifetimes. The part where it would all sadly become the norm.
But then I woke up this morning. I woke up to the fact that this is not normal and this can never be normal. I read of homeless men cradling the dying, of the emergency services “falling as if from heaven”, of wounded women ushering other people’s children to safety. I read of queues to give blood, of hotels giving shelter, of cafes offering food, of taxi drivers turning their meters off. I read of countless more acts of selflessness, kindness, unity and love. And I realised that our city and our nation will never allow this to become normal. We will never allow ourselves to be dulled into submission, defeated by cowardly acts of terror.
This is not normal and never will be.
I woke up this morning and for that, I am truly thankful.
My thoughts and prayers go out to all those who have been affected by last night’s atrocity.
When your Mother buys you a book with 248 pages solely dedicated to transforming “your home into a permanently tidy, clutter-free space,” and with the precursor, “You’re probably not going to like this Dear,” you know you’re in trouble. Last year and crucially, last year, my Mother gifted Marie Kondo’s “The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying” to me. And since last year, have I even picked it up? No way. For when my Mother, in an pre-meditated act of pseudo-kindness, bought me a Zen-shmen, Japanese sensation of a book, containing “simple and effective ways to banish clutter forever”, I had no choice but to interpret this as a tactless and underhand move, an insult plain and simple. Continue reading “The Magic of Space”
It’s Mental Health Awareness week. So let’s talk about mental health.
The truth of the matter is that 1 in 6 adults experience mental health problems in the UK. So if you’re not feeling it, then the likelihood is that someone close to you is. Continue reading “Let’s talk about Mental Health”
Happy May Day! Luckily for us Great Brits, this year May 1st fell on a Monday, which meant another Glorious and Great British Bank Holiday for us all to enjoy. But today wasn’t going to be about BBQ’s, queues and booze. Today was to be about fun and frolics at the village fete, fairies, faun, flowers and phallic looking poles for us to prance around. Today was to be Pimms and lemonade on the lawn, followed by a raunchy summer romp in the miscanthus giganteus (that’s a large grass, just in case you were mistaken), finished off with the crowning glory of a beautiful May Queen. Happy May Day indeed. Could it possibly get any more pleasurable than this? Continue reading “MayDay MayDay”
Roll on the Great British Bank Holiday. A delightful long weekend in which important, tired and hard-working people get to rest their weary heads, and less important but equally as tired and hard-working FTM’s get to, quite frankly, carry on regardless. A joyful time in which the Great British Public love to either a) inebriate themselves over three consecutive days, whilst manning a succession of dwindling tinfoil BBQs in the pissing rain, wearing T-shirt and shorts, b) spend quality time with husbands, wives, partners and children, engaging in cohesive and incredibly fun activities, such as Twister, Jenga and Junior Trivial Pursuit or c) a bit of both, more commonly known as boozed-up childcare in the rain. Whichever way you choose to spend your Bank Holiday though, one thing is for sure: The Great British Bank Holiday simply wouldn’t be the same without a Great British Queue.
Continue reading “The Great British Bank Holiday”
The GR has resurrected herself. Bang on cue. Just in time for Easter. It’s Day 1 of the “holidays” and her timing is impeccable once again. Her little-black-cloak has been dry-cleaned, in honour of the numerous jollifications planned and her scythe has been sharpened, ready to strike anyone or anything that, quite frankly, has the audacity to Gd’dam breathe. Approach at your own risk.
Continue reading “The Resurrection”
Happy April Fool’s Day to all you old Fools out there. Another ludicrous day to mark something or other ridiculous. With its origins dating all the way back to the 14th Century, apparently April Fool’s Day is good for one’s health – a tonic to encourage laughter, diminish stress and reduce the strain on one’s heart. That would be for all of 24 hours. And then it’s back to normal Folks – we can carry on being miserable buggers. Phew. Continue reading “Call me a Fool, but…”
So here’s the thing. For the past year or so, I’ve been involved in an arrangement. A you-scratch-my-back-and-i’ll scratch-yours type of thing. In fact, I could easily go as far as to call it a relationship. A mutually beneficial, reciprocal kind of relationship, which saw its inception at the school gates. At first I was dubious, but after several rides, I was hooked. And so was She. Soon there was little alternative – we’d be lost without each other. Continue reading “Car Share”
It’s that time of year again. Another day to commemorate something or other incredibly meaningful. But this time it’s not International Day of Happiness (that was last week apparently), World Health Day (that’s next week, if you’re interested), or Global Wind Day (this one’s in June, if you celebrate making wind). No, today is all about Me. It’s Mothering Sunday, again. Gosh how quickly time flies. And this year is no different to the past 8 as Mum. Continue reading “Mothering Sunday: The T’s and C’s”
Apparently I have a new pet name. I call it a “pet”name in a last-ditch attempt to glean even the tiniest scrap of cuddly, candy-floss cuteness from it’s damn-right pettiness. Today and only today, I am willing to call it a “pet” name, in the spirit of February 14th (AKA Valentine’s Day), on which day surely everyone is entitled to a bit of petting. However, on every other day, it’s a nick name at best, an insult at worst. Continue reading “The G.R”