Everything is temporary. Nothing is ours to keep.

There is a voice that doesn’t use words. Listen. – Rumi



I swear, if there is a God, if you’re up there Chris; one of you better do something about me winning the work syndicate on Friday. Or tonight. I’m not fussed. Half a million or three, I have just had enough.

I love my job, I love work, no matter what obstacles are thrown at me I plough through, with the kids I look after at the forefront of my mind. However, I’ve had a pretty shit few weeks and I feel drained, miserable and I want way more than I can afford; I’ve come to the conclusion that whoever said money doesn’t buy happiness is a twat. 

My current elaborate want in life is a park. As in, I want a few acres of land and I want an epic park in my back garden. If you’ve ever been to Hylands Park in Chelmsford (Essex), something like that but in a woodland-y fairy type setting. Today the weather has been amazing and I feel like the world’s worst parent, because my son uttered the words “I really wish we had our old house, I just want our garden back”. Heart break central. We have a car park out back which is just for the staff of the shop below, and we have free reign; it’s not the same though.

This week I feel like I have the weight of the world on my shoulders. 

So, please, whatever there is out there in the universe that controls karma and destiny.. throw me a bit of luck, please! 


Do you know what is the most shit part of being a widow is? The evenings. I’ve been in bed for 30 minutes because I can’t stand watching TV by myself. I like to play “what have they been in?” and pause part way through in order to discuss said person. I like sharing snacks. I’m not actually a very good sharer, however it stops me from getting fat so I am willing to compromise! – it’s a shame I’m not on dating sites with selling points like that. 

I’m currently having what appears to be not just a bad day, but a bad week. Everything that can go wrong has, and will. And as each curveball is thrown my mood deteriorates. I’m anti-social, I’m miserable, I’m tired and I don’t have the energy to talk to the people I love and care about. I’m in resentment mode. How dare Chris leave us? Who does he think he is? Who do I have to order takeaway with and sit up till midnight drinking champagne with? No one, that’s who (I can’t afford champagne now, either). And yes, I can hear it now, the chorus of people saying “well if you moved on, you wouldn’t be lonely” – no shit, Sherlock. I’m not stupid. 

So, to summarise, I’m really not sure what this blog is about, or what the point of it is (besides a bloody good moan). Tomorrow is Friday and whilst I’m exempt from having a social life, there’s always a frozen pizza and a cheap bottle of prosecco; and if all else fails, it’s a jam-packed evening of soaps.



Sorry guys. This is another Thomas related post (I expect this will be an ongoing theme, so sit tight, and if you don’t like Thomas and his friends then this is not the blog for you).

Today we are not leaving the house. I suspect it’s chicken pox. The chemist thinks it’s chicken pox. All signs point to chicken pox, but the spots aren’t blistering. Basically mild chicken pox, with the added bonus of vomit. The good news is, I can probably return to work on Monday. The bad news is, I have to entertain a seemingly well child, but I cannot leave the house “just in case”. I despair! 

Content myself with having a pj day, fueled with several cups of black coffee and a date with Jeremy Kyle; I scratched my head (hahah, get it? No? I’m rubbish at jokes, I know!) as to how I could entertain my child for the whole day without spending more time getting toys out and putting them away, than I spend sat on my backside. Enter the Island of Sodor…

Breakfast, no, that can wait. I took a deep breath and stepped into creative engineer mode. I had an idea in my head and I was about to bring it to life. I was met with several obstacles that led to a few impromptu Amazon purchases, such as where the hell are my track adapters? I have two holey bits meeting and nothing to secure them – it’s a first world problem, I know, but it’s still a problem. After 40 mins of silent f-bombs and me wishing I hadn’t even started such a project, it was ready. Sodor was finished, complete with a search and rescue centre, Tidmouth Sheds and Henry’s tunnel. Okay so it’s probably not true to the program, and I definitely need some more track, but I’m happy.

And of course, my son is very happy, and that’s what’s important today after a semi-pox outbreak and a night of making calls on the porcelain telephone.

I am aware I refer to the wooden track as being mine, but seeing as I paid for it and I’m the one who has to build it, I feel it’s my investment.