Diary of a wimpy woman

Firstly, I must apologise for this hiatus in my blogging as one of the things that never ceases to surprise me is how little time there is in a day when you have a full time job. Nonetheless, I have a proud announcement to make: I’ve been able to make the time to do a couple of thousand words more in the manuscript. But more on that later.

Anyway, there are many things that can be said about writing as an occupation. Sadly, one of the things that can’t be said is that it helps keep you in shape.

Some of you might remember that, at the beginning of this year, one of my New Year’s resolutions was to start running again. Now, that might sound like I was once a committed runner who lost her motivation along the way. I assure you, that is not the case.

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Scent and Sensibility

Nonna's bottle of Shalimar, found at the back of her closet

Nonna’s bottle of Shalimar, found at the back of her closet

Just over a year ago, my grandmother (codename Nonna) left us. She was a lovely, funny, happy old lady, who liked pets, receiving postcards from unusual places, looking after people she’d only known five minutes and tending to her orchids. She liked having children around, and always looked out for the ones whom she thought needed protecting. If she liked you, you were always (always!) welcome to drop by for coffee, tea or a meal. She also made what is known as The World’s Best Home-made Lasagna – I guard the recipe with my life, knowing all the while my lasagna will only ever be The Second Best. Continue reading

The big short

Hair, there and everywhere

Hair, there and everywhere

My hair came back from Barbados with a serious case of identity crisis; it simply refused to believe it was no longer in Barbados.

I can’t blame it. My name was on the plane ticket and even I can’t believe I’m no longer there.

Since I hadn’t cut my hair in nearly six months, two weeks of sun, heat and swimming in the sea amounted to about two years of damage. So about a week ago, I decided it was time to live up to my promises to myself and cut it short. Continue reading