Giggle Dreams

We’ve got a good little routine going in the mornings, these days. When DorkySon wakes up – usually sometime between 6.30-7am – I go through to get him out of his cot, change his nappy, and bring him through into our bed for some milk and cuddles.

One of my favourite parts of the day is the couple of minutes it takes me to do his nappy change in the near-dark. I’m always pretty bleary-eyed, but most days he’ll sing me a wee song, or tell me what he dreamed about that night, and it’s a lovely start to the day.
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In Praise of Barbie

Close up image of a female doll wearing a pink dress

This is a guest post from Mairi Campbell-Jack; a poet who lives in Edinburgh with her daughter. Mairi tweets as @lumpinthethroat

Being a good “feminist”, when my daughter was born three and a half years ago I was determined to bring her up in the feminist mould. Her father and I tried our hardest not to gender her. She was dressed in blues, greens and oranges. We made sure she had toys that were appropriate to both genders, and a range of books that weren’t just about glittery princess ballerina bunnies.

Then comes nursery, and contact with other girls. She explodes into a deep and long love affair with all things pink. She tells me she is not pretty unless her hair is in a bobble. Last month she asked me why I wasn’t beautiful, and on further questioning explained to me that I wasn’t wearing a skirt. Then two weeks ago I finally gave in. At her nursery fair she was very keen to get a hideous “singing lady” which turned out to be some kind of Bratz doll and, believe me, compared to that doll five second hand Barbies or Barbie-likes for £1 was much more acceptable. Continue reading

How do we define home?

White planter with slogan 'home is where your story begins'.

I saw today that Taransay – the former home of the Castaways – is up for sale. Unfortunately I don’t have a spare £2million to spend on it, but seeing the news has left me thinking all day about my own childhood, which I spent in the Western Isles.

Although I haven’t lived there for nearly twenty years, the countless days I spent playing on the beaches and walking in the hills were happy ones, and I will always feel a deep connection to the place. I am convinced that growing up somewhere so isolated – where the relationship between the people, the land and the sea is still a strong one, and where there is still a real awareness of the rhythms of nature – has shaped my character in fairly fundamental ways. It also says something about the sense of community on the islands that even having been away for so long, when I go back and visit now I still have people asking when I got ‘home’. Continue reading