Today’s fabby guest post is from Ericka Waller who you can find blogging here and here, and tweeting as @ErickaWaller1
If you were to ask my four year-old-daughter what I was best at, she would tell you “Tidying up really quickly” or “Making cheese straws“.
She is right about this, as it happens – but there is more to me than my mad cleaning skills and handy ability to whip up cheesy snacks. Honest.
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We have just booked our summer holidays for this year, and we can’t wait. We’re having a few days up seeing family in the Western Isles, followed by a week in Edinburgh at the Fringe. I am reminded once again how much my idea of what a holiday is has changed over the years.
A few weeks ago, I did a guest post about holidays for Marianne over at Mari’s World, and she has kindly agreed to let me publish a version of it on my own blog too.
Holidays? I’ve had a few! They change though, don’t they? Not just the places you go, but who you’re with, why you’re going, what you remember…
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I am sitting on the sofa reading a book, vaguely aware of some scuffling noises behind me, when suddenly there is a violent grunt, and a bang.
“Bloody hell,” says DorkyDad.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“There’s something wrong with the printer.”
I turn round and peer over the top of the sofa.
“You haven’t switched it on,” I say.
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The adorable Sarah did a great post over at Grenglish the other week about memories; asking people to consider which memories they’d keep if they had to pay for them.
It has provided a lovely opportunity to spend lots of time daydreaming, and revisiting some of the happiest times in my life. Of course, we’ve all had some horrible times in our lives too – memories that we’d quite like to take back to the shop for a refund – but there’s not much point in dwelling on those. The value of the good memories by far outweighs the value of the bad ones.
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I mentioned in my BritMums post earlier in the week that once I’ve fulfilled my current commitments I’m not going to do any reviews on the blog… but that doesn’t mean that I can’t still have a big old gush about a company if I love them. This is one of those gushes.
I’ve always been a map geek. I love them. Sometimes when I was a wee girl, instead of asking for a bedtime story, I used to sit with my Dad or my Grandpa and pore over a map of some place I’d never visited before. Maybe the Pennines, or Kansas, or Madagascar – it didn’t really matter – maps meant possibilities, adventures, fulfilling dreams. I had a brilliant jigsaw puzzle of the world, where all the countries were different colours, and you had to work out how they fitted together.
I am only slightly embarrassed to admit that I never really grew out of the map geekery; when I was eighteen I won the award for being the top geography student in Scotland. Give me a packet of colouring pencils and a map to colour in, and it still makes me happy.
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Dorkymum | Stories from Tasmania 