I don't really write much any more. This is partly due to not seeing the point in publishing stuff that no one will read, and partly because two small children remove most of my brain. I'm sure they get up in the night and suck all my ideas out with a straw. Anyway, my husband seems to... Continue Reading →
Master builder of dreams
Today was not really the day I wanted to see almost three hours of Ibsen. The children had been a bit fussy all day; nothing unusual, just crying at inopportune moments, the older one getting upset about me going out, the little one wanting more of my milk in the middle of M&S, and then... Continue Reading →
The resting writer 