On

Alright. There is frailness

in all our music.

Sometimes we’re broken

and it’s lost.

Sometimes we forget

for years it’s even in us, heads

filled with burdens and smoke.

And sometimes we’ve held

to it and it’s there,

waiting to break out,

walking back from the end.

 

“In Memory of George Lewis” – Lou Lipsitz

 

*

We were living our best lives, and we knew it.

We have always communicated well, DorkyMum and me. There was so much talk between us in the earliest days and nights, sounding out every reason our relationship couldn’t possibly last and, then, deciding that nothing else we could ever imagine mattered as much as the two of us and how we felt next to each other.

All in.

It has not always been easy. Real life never is. But now we found ourselves living on a windswept island far away at the edge of the world, a place almost too beautiful for words. Our son was continuing to astound us with his inherent kindness, his infectious laugh, his keenness for learning, words and books.

All the food we ate and the wine we drank was produced locally. We were living in a tall, rambling house with room for everything. Our closest friends from Scotland – and DorkySon’s Godfather – had miraculously moved to the same island and now lived just a half day’s drive to the north. We were both working from home, setting our own hours and making enough money to keep it all sweet.

This is our life, we said to each other. This is who we are and what we will be.

We were deeply, deeply happy. Continue reading

A Very British Identity Crisis

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I haven’t written much about the European Referendum, but I’m very happy to have a guest post about it on the blog today. This is from my brother Ewan Cameron. He doesn’t mind a wee bit of debate, so please feel free to leave a comment below. Image credit: Chris Lawton at Unsplash.

I am not a writer, and as a journalist once told me (so it must be true) I am not a ‘political animal.’ I most definitely felt until recently that I had no national identity whatsoever. However, when my head is positively spinning with thought I do sometimes write things down in an attempt to find order. As I live in Scotland many of these thoughts currently whizzing around are a result of politics and involve matters of national identity so here goes.

I have a Scottish father and an English mother, which at least means I must be British. Until the age of ten this made absolutely no difference to me at all, I knew my mother was from a town called Leek in Staffordshire, I had grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins there who we saw twice a year or so and they were/are nice people and I enjoyed seeing them and that was as far as it went. Continue reading

Guest Post: Who Will Love Your Children?

Today’s guest post comes from Sarah at Grenglish, who has long been one of my favourite bloggers. Last time Sarah guest posted for me – Just the One – the response was overwhelming, and I have a feeling this beautiful post is going to get just as much love… 

Grenglish Blog

Since becoming a mother, there are a great many things I find myself worrying about every single day.

I worry how well my son is settling in at school, whether he eats all of his lunch, and if it is possible for him to escape from the school playground without anyone noticing.

At home, I worry if he is watching too much TV, if we should be doing more crafts, and if he has wiped his bottom properly. Continue reading

Guest Post: The Daughter-in-Law Prenup

daughter-in-law prenup

Today’s fantastic guest post comes from my friend and fellow blogger Donna – a journalist and proud mum of two boys at primary school. She maintains her sanity by unleashing her thoughts and feelings over at Mummy Central. Her life’s ambitions are to become a sane and useful member of society. She is failing miserably. (Her words, not mine!) But feel free to say hello on Facebook or Twitter.

***

Every mother of boys will have had the following rhyme repeated back to her by a smiling (but ultimately spiteful) acquaintance at one time or another: “A daughter’s a daughter for life. A son is a son until he takes a wife.

If you haven’t, then you’re lucky. Because what this person is trying to remind you is that much as your boy stares lovingly into your eyes, while he proposes to you every five minutes when he’s a toddler and promises he’ll never leave your side, one day some wench is going to come along and steal him from you.

Anyone who says they are pointing this out purely because they care about you is talking horse manure! Continue reading