When the house becomes the extent of your world, however temporary it may be, it is terribly easy to narrow your focus to the minutiae of domesticity. To become obsessed with perfecting the smallest of things and in the process to quite forget what really matters in this world.

At the...

It has been raining. Endless deluges polka dotted by sudden, astonishing bright spells when I shove my feet into flip-flops and run out into the garden to see what delight and damage the rain has wreaked. And there they are: strawberries and so many tomato plants. Celery coming up a storm...

And just like that, it feels like its over when we know deep within our bones that it is not. But there has been a shift. A shift towards the normality that right in the midst of the virus we told each other we would not welcome again. That our “new normality” suited us, suited...

One of the things I’m missing most in the midst of this isolation is the library. I like everything about it. The whole kit and caboodle. From popping the library bag Finn brought me back from Paris into my handbag before I go, to practically running to the NEW IN...

Yesterday I found a collaged journal I kept seventeen years ago. A journal stuffed with lovely life, hopes and the dreams of a woman trying to magic up a future full of curly haired children and gingham tablecloths.

I was sitting in my little office in my...

I keep waking up with my arms folded across my chest, like a stern, disappointed headmistress and for a moment I forget that the world is standing on its head and wonder how many more minutes I can steal in bed before I have to persuade the child into his uniform and send him out into the...

It is possible that over the years I have become less truthful than I once was. Less willing to spill my woes on to the virtual page for fear of not fulfilling my imaginary duty as purveyor of floral, dotty dreams. As If I have now convinced myself that you want nothing more from me than...