Archive for the ‘things I don’t like’ Category

  Finally the house is quiet, glass of wine poured, a perfect sunset happening just outside my window, the new (well, I guess it’s not so new now) Radiohead album playing at an acceptably mellow volume, all child paraphernalia hidden from view. And it feels like my head is full of sand. Or sawdust. (Yes, I […]


So I posted these pictures in first, hoping the words would come after. Sometimes it works like that. A visual jolting or something. An anchor. A way to enter through the side door and maybe somehow end up in the right place. Or if not the right place at least a place worth inhabiting for a […]


As I write this, our household contends with finishing off a bird murder. Sort of like animal kingdom Cluedo, only the assailant wasn’t doing much about concealing his crime, proud as he was of it.  My bung-eyed crying jag started long before Bax tried to deposit a half-dead bird amongst the presents under the Christmas tree […]


If in doubt, post pictures of cats — it’s failproof. This is Sylvie helping me pack. She’s giving me her anxious look. The so where are we going, then? look. It’s been a wee while between blogs. I was going to write at the beginning of the weekend. The thing I was going to write […]


Tonight (Matthew) I was going to talk about escapism, but now I’m not. Now I’ve got blog stagefright. Or maybe I just have nothing to say. Earlier this evening it felt like I had a lot to talk about. Stuff about whether I am barking up the wrong tree or chasing my tail to no avail, […]


This evening has not been a good evening. It has been a decidedly bad evening. So I made this. To get away from the belly-upness of everything just for a bit. I must not make this my Place of Ranting. No, this is a place of calm and reflection, home to only the mildest of gripes and sulks. […]


Exactly a year ago (in a few hours’ time) we were in New Plymouth A & E following a very bloody dancefloor accident. Fastforward a year and I am sitting at the kitchen table in a state of mid-grade panic, books and papers everywhere, incapable of finding the impetus I need to see my way through […]