All posts filed under: Friends & Family

One Too Many

Last week, I went out with a group of friends with the intention of having one glass of wine; but a glass soon turned into sharing a bottle, which turned into another and the next thing I knew, I was waking up naked in the spare bedroom with an empty bag of crisps by my side. ‘Why am I in the spare bed?’ I called out to the Greek God(zilla). Because you stank of cheese & onion, love. I groaned and climbed back in next to him. You still stink, love. I hid my head under the covers, trying to piece together the remnants of the evening. I remembered arriving at a wine bar and having a very civilised evening. We ordered food, had a few glasses of wine and at about 9pm, we paid the bill and left. Oh, then on our way home we stopped off at another pub to have ‘one for the road’. I hadn’t been out with this set of friends for a while and the last few times, I had decided to drive to remain steadfast on …

The Women in my Life

I am a woman’s woman. A girl’s girl. A fully signed up member of the sisterhood, sans travelling pants. If you are a woman, chances are I’ll have your back. If we are friends, I trust you have mine too.   There is no friendship more important to me than female friendship. Although, I have not always appreciated the women in my life as much as I do today.  I have been too flippant with friendships in the past, quick to discard them as fleeting.  I know better now, but I had to learn the hard way.  And, maybe they did too. The friendships I have now that I am in my forties, are very different to the ones I had in my twenties.  Some of the people may be the same, but the friendship we share has evolved into something much deeper. I know we are all in it for the long-haul. Most of my friends are women; strong, creative, independent and feisty women. All the qualities I forget to ascribe to myself, until they remind me.  We are supportive of each other, honest and kind. …

5 things I thought I’d always remember… but don’t

My nephews came to us for a sleepover recently and for one whole night, I had an additional 5-year old and a 2-year old to look after. It was brilliant fun and they were no trouble at all, however I did get an insight into what it might be like to have 3 children and have a brand new respect for those who do. I was not too worried about the 5-year old, because I also have one of those and believe most problems can be easily resolved with food, a quick run around the garden, or Star Wars.  The 2-year old on the other hand came with a nappy changing bag, bottles, formula, dummies and instructions on how to prevent him rolling out of bed. I looked at the bottle and to the little container of formula. Then back to the bottle again. “Just one before bed” his dad told me. I lost count of how many bottles of milk I made up for my own son when he was a baby. Sometimes 5 or 6 a day, I think.  I …

New Year’s Eve Without a Bang

We’ve never been big on New Year’s Eve celebrations, the Greek God(zilla) and I. I tried to do the whole ‘party of the year’ thing when I was (much) younger, but always felt something was missing.  Like control over my personal space, clear access to the bar, and an affordable taxi home.  As I made my way into my late twenties, it was not uncommon for me to stay home by myself on New Year’s Eve, with just a bottle of Barolo for company.  Actually, I don’t think I discovered Barolo until much later, it was probably more likely to be Jacob’s Creek back then. In the Greek God(zilla), I found a like-minded soul with no desire to see in the new year from anywhere other than the comfort of his own sofa either.  We were a party pooping match made in heaven. So, a new tradition started.   We’d have dinner out and then return home in time to watch Hootenanny on the telly, smug in our ‘we’re too cool for new year’s eve’ kind of way. When I got …

Like Father, like son

My husband and son have many things in common. They would both happily spend the entire day in their pyjamas if they could. Every rainy Saturday afternoon is as a DVD box set opportunity. They laugh at their own jokes. Neither one likes to be offered ‘suggestions’ while constructing Lego. They can both smell a square of chocolate from a mile away. They believe that whoever shouts loudest gets his way. Dancing is their moment to showcase made-up karate chops and spin kicks. But, there is one other thing they have in common that drives me nuts.  I could be chopping veg in the kitchen, tidying toys away in the playroom, or actually be in the shower, when I hear my name called, followed by a question that usually starts with ‘Can you get me…’, ‘Where is the…’, or ‘What’s for…’ If I do not respond in a timely manner, my name and the accompanying question will simply be repeated at a higher volume, usually from the comfort of the sofa or bed where they are no doubt reclining at the time. I have abandoned risottos, skipped crucial …