Guest Post: Scattered Love

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.

Maris World Blog

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

Hacked: A Guest Post from DorkyDad

macro threads

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.

Continue reading

The Rules of Guising

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:

Continue reading

DorkyDad’s Last Transmission From London

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

A Wardrobe of Mother-Guilt

There are few things that make me happier than sharing guest posts on the blog, and especially so when it’s a post from someone I’m a big fan of myself. Michelle at The American Resident is one of my very favourite bloggers. An American living in the UK, dealing with all things expat, she is a wonderful, evocative and honest writer, whose posts on her own blog have moved me to tears of both joy and sadness in the past. In person, she is an irresistibly charming mix of introversion, big warm smiles and blue hair dye. If you love her writing as much as I do, please do pop over to her blog, or at the very least say hello on Twitter.

***

I watched from the platform while my daughter and her granddad found their seats on the train.  Then the frustrating minute of waving, smiling, holding back tears, and waving some more, wishing the train would Just Go, now that she was beyond One Last Hug for the next two weeks. Then slowly the train began to move. I waved again, trying to look cheerful, sending her happiness vibes. Have fun but be safe, my smile said. She returned a blissfully carefree smile of excitement. She loves her visits to the grandparents, hours spent at the local stables, no pressure, no demands to empty the dishwasher, ‘but you must help out, even if they don’t ask.’ ‘I know mum. I do.’ Continue reading