Monthly Archives: February 2013
Live in the Now February
February already!
It’s not my favourite month, to be honest. It’s such a tease.
One day you can walk through the park without even a jacket, admiring the snowdrops and daffodils that are poking their heads through the earth, and lifting your face to feel the warmth of the sun. It can really feel like spring is within touching distance. The next day it’s back to hat, gloves and scarf, and you walk through that same park cursing the slap of wind and rain on your cheeks. As I type this morning, there are several inches of snow on the ground, and those poor daffodils must be wishing they could tuck back down into the soil. Continue reading
A Glimpse into the 1920s
What a lovely thing I found yesterday!
When one of my great aunts died, at least ten years ago, but probably closer to fifteen, I remember spending some time helping my mum sort through her belongings. I picked up two very old autograph books, which had belonged to my great uncle as a boy, and asked if I could keep them.
I came across them again yesterday when I was sorting through boxes, and I had forgotten how absolutely beautiful they are. Both are leather-bound, with ‘Album; embossed on the outside in gold lettering. One is dated 1918, and the other seems to have entries dating from 1924-1926.
A Postcard from Ghana
Comic Relief hasn’t really been on my radar for the last few years.
I loved it when I was a kid – the anticipation every two years of finding out what the red nose was going to look like (my favourite remains the fluffy one), the daft fundraising events that people would do at school, the evening of television with all sorts of celebs being silly, all my favourite boybands doing novelty songs – but I have to admit that more recently Red Nose Day has passed by without me really noticing.
Not so this year. This year marks 25 years of Red Nose Day, and a great celebration of all the good work that has taken place since 1988. Continue reading
High School: The Best Days of Our Lives?
“High school days are the best days of your lives…”
How often did you hear that nonsense line uttered when you were a teenager, eh?
Someone put a picture up on Facebook the other day of a staff photo from my former high school. According to the silver lettering embossed on the frame, it’s from 1999. I would have been sixteen at the time, and these were the teachers I saw every single day, week in, and week out.
I am shocked by how few of them I remember.
There are two or three I am still in touch with – friends of my parents, or parents of my friends – who I could comfortably stand in the street and make conversation with. There are probably another dozen or so who I either liked or disliked a lot, and their names are still easy enough to call up in my mind.
But then there’s the rest. A nameless mass of smiles and suits, made up of individuals who may or may not have once stood before me in a classroom and imparted their knowledge on noble gases, imperfect participles, and quadratic equations.
Dorkymum | Stories from Tasmania 