The wonderful JK Rowling continues her refusal to join the Rich People's Club. In a Gingerbread article, she says, 'I am prouder of my years as a single mother than of any other part of my life.' She remembers the small kindnesses of some, such as the lady who allowed JK to bring her baby … Continue reading Political Puffering and Barclays Bollocks
I've spent the past couple of weeks in Kent, organising carers for my dad. Even with my lovely sister doing half of the form filling and worrying (she's worked in social services so she knows how the system works) it's still been incredibly stressful. And a very good reason to have more than one child … Continue reading How to Stay Young
So my sister and I drove to Broadstairs to pick up our dad from a nursing home. He's had a small stroke, leaving him with short term memory loss and confusion, and we wanted to see if back home, into his normal routine, his memory might kick in again. At 2am his nose began pouring … Continue reading A&E Meltdown: Living the Dream
A few weeks ago my dad had a stroke. I only found out because his voice was slurred at 9am. Of course he felt 'fine' and wouldn't go to the doctor, my sister had just gone abroad on a new job and I was in the middle of Open University marking. I drove down a … Continue reading Getting Old Sucks
My friend and writer Stephanie Calman texted me yesterday to say she was about to go on LBC in response to Nigella's Telegraph comment about working mothers and - guess? The recession? The pay gap? The satisfaction of earning your own living? Of course not. It was guilt. What else could it be? Working mother, … Continue reading Can we ever talk about being a working mother without ‘guilt’ or ‘failure’ popping up?
In a few weeks I'm going away for a few days and not only am I not bikini ready (I wish there was a sarcasm ) - I'm leaving the inevitable wax to the last minute, to give those little strips something to get hold of. But in the meantime I'm faintly alarmed by the … Continue reading I’m not Bikini Ready
I got a message today from the lovely Gillian telling me in the nicest possible way to get orf my lazy arse and start writing again. So I am and thank you Gillian. I then spent loads of time deliberating what to call my first post in nearly two months. In My Absence? Too pompous. … Continue reading How the Uterus is a Location Device – or Twat Nav
I really hate the word empowered. Like resting for actors, it’s a word that’s slipped its ken and is used as a stick to beat us. Any kind of dubious activity or product that involves the endless commoditisation of the female body – you just slap a variant of empowered on it and any protest … Continue reading Empowerment – that bloody word again
After my last post’s transgression into something approaching intellectual rigour – you’ll be pleased to hear I’m back at my usual level of blogdom today. I bought some face cream! Only it’s not just any old face cream – it’s Clinique Superdefense (the skin care industry pays no heed to grammar or spelling) SP25. According … Continue reading Oooh – posh face cream!
And not spend my final days in hospital if this report is anything to go by. I've often thought that it would be a pretty shitty way to end your life - in a hospital ward, your last ocular experience being the smell of hospital tapioca. My mother spent her last night deep in a … Continue reading I hope I get run over by a bus