Today’s lovely guest post is from Nikki Thomas – a former teacher who is now a freelance writer and blogger. She blogs at Stressy Mummy were she writes about the stresses and joys of family life with four children.
One thing that being a mum has taught me over the years is that it is the little things that matter. Sometimes, those things that seem so small and insignificant mean so much and make a huge difference. Continue reading
I’m very pleased to have a guest post on the blog today from Marianne Weekes. Mari has been keeping a family journal of sorts for over 4 years, Mari’s World which made the Finalists in the BiBs 2014 Family category. She is also Editor of the busy BritMums blog which keeps her out of mischief. She likes white wine and chocolate, she loves a good natter with like minded people, and she’s addicted to Instagram.
As I approach the 50 years old point in my life it’s making me reflect on what I have done so far and if I could go back would I do anything differently?
You see I’m still a couple of years off, and so possibly in time to make major changes, who knows?
I grew up in the 80’s and I can remember careers lessons at school and lots of encouragement to Get Out There and Do It! Be Someone! Women can now be just as good as men and have high flying jobs! This was the message that was drummed into us as we prepared for our ‘O’ levels (now GCSEs). Continue reading
The attack came in the dark of night, as such things seem to do.
“Baby,” came my wife’s cry from the Big Table in front of the fire. “You’ve been hacked!”
I was sitting on the old leather couch in the den watching a remarkably bloody television series about Vikings while reflecting, a wee bit smugly, on the capacity of our newly installed double-glazed windows to hold back the growing cold of a Tasmanian winter.
She spun her Mac around so I could read the text; something about us being stuck in Istanbul, wallet stolen; hotel angry, threat of police action, send money quick.
This is a guest post from my good friend Adam Ramsay, who thinks that Halloween isn’t what it used to be…
Last night was Halloween. I arrived home to adorable hoards of marauding small children, giggling and shrieking their way up and down my usually quiet residenial street – the kind of street where couples move to breed. Knowing my housemate was walking home from work, I quickly called her, and soon, she arrived with a large bowl of sweets to distribute to the various parties who knocked on our door.
The whole event made me infeasibly happy. But it seems that the cultural phenomenon that is Halloween has changed significantly as I have moved South and with time.
You see, I grew up in rural Scotland – the land where Halloween comes from. And so for me, it was all a bit different. So, let me tell you how Halloween worked when I was a child. I think there are five rules:
The movers are here now. I type this against the background chatter of ripped masking tape and heavy cardboard boxes being assembled by rough, experienced hands. Tonight this flat will be empty save for two beds and the three of us. In just under 60 hours the plane will lift off from Heathrow, bound first for Dubai, then on beyond to Melbourne.
We are away to Tasmania. Continue reading
Dorkymum | Stories from Tasmania 