Some time in September, perhaps it was the second week, the morning skies were a cloud-free blue, and the sun’s light danced on the sea. Perhaps you don’t remember. I remember because on those mornings I drove down to the sea, and swam. I took pictures each time, even though the scene was the same every day, because each time I was amazed anew at how beautiful it was. I would be hard pressed to think of anything more beautiful, of any other way I’d rather spend my time. I wouldn’t ordinarily be doing this on a week day in September.  At the beginning of the school term, also in early Sept ..read more

I am pleased to say I have published a collection of poems on motherhood, which is now available to purchase. You can buy it , here. The time of our lives is a collection of poems that captures the complexity of motherhood: from the frustrations of the unsolicited opinions of others to the poetic mundanity of an autumnal walk; from the unrecognised strength of the maternal body to the empowering nature of motherhood. This collection is an honest reflection on being a mother, and the often disparate emotions it evokes.  A mother’s time is oft-interrupted: a baby cries, a laundry cycle finishes ..read more

Do you ever feel like all the problems of the world would be solved if only we had affordable childcare? OK, well maybe not all the problems. Do you ever feel like gender equality would definitely be achieved if we all had access to affordable childcare ? This is the message that is presented to us by liberal feminists, mainstream media and neoliberal politicians alike. For a long time, I thought that affordable childcare was the answer to our feminist dreams, but then I began to question some of the assumptions behind this belief. I have an almost ten year old and a six year old. We have spe ..read more

Sometimes I think it’s like a tap, not tightly enough wound, dripping in the next room. Sometimes you notice it, sometimes you don’t, but you know it’s still dripping because no-one has turned it. Sometimes it makes you really mad, but still you wait for someone else to turn it.  But that’s a ridiculous analogy. It’s not like a dripping tap. It’s more aggressive. Louder. It takes more than one person to stop it.  Last night I was catching up on the BBC drama Luther which is now available on Netflix , but first aired on the BBC around nine years ago. I was aware of a creeping sense of rage cra ..read more

Sitting on the bedroom floor One hand in your hand, waiting For your breath to steady And slow, and sleep. You huff and puff and toss and turn. I scroll and scroll and scroll and scroll. Go to sleep, I mutter. Impatient. Still you writhe and squirm and shuffle. I scroll. I want to escape, to sneak downstairs ” Me time.” At last, I dare to carefully, carefully, withdraw my hand. I sneak. You sleep. I go downstairs, collapse on the couch And scroll. All the wise and experienced folk who write parenting books give untold amounts of advice on all stages and aspects of your newborn baby’s life. S ..read more

There’s a show on Netflix where 5 beautiful men go into someone’s life and breathe love into it. It’s pure and joyful and will make you cry in a way that cleanses your soul. I watched an episode recently where a young widower, now a single father to two young boys, spoke about his late wife. “She squeezed every drop of joy out of life.” I cried for him, and his beautiful wife and children, but really I suppose I was crying for me, in a roundabout way. It made me think, self-obsessed as I am, if I died would anyone be able to say that about me? Am I squeezing the joy out of life? As it happens ..read more