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.