So, this is Christmas November 17

They turned the Christmas lights on in town today – they closed the High Street and I cycled a silly way home from work in the wind and rain. A band somewhere played Christmas music and an arsehole driver revved his engine close behind me. People in cars don’t like bikes, hey?

When I was almost home I passed a little girl getting out of a taxi with her mother – they must have come from town because the girl had one of those light up glow sticks in her hand. What a treat.

I felt bad for not taking my children to see the lights turned on, too.

Probably not bad enough that I would take them next year, or anything. Not guilty enough that I would stand amongst heaving crowds in the rain and spend ££s on glow sticks. But a twinge.

We’ll go one quiet evening, we’ll have the lights to ourselves, it’ll be even better.


Drop ins

I’ve started taking P to pre-school drop ins, so that she knows the place before she starts in May.

I know May is a little way away, but also that it will soon be May.

I know pre-school is a tiny amount of time, but also – it will be start of having all three children in formal childcare for part of the week. A tiny amount of time where I could be in my house, by myself. Oh my.

This fact, this one last time, both buoys me – it holds me afloat when she refuses to sit in the pushchair and it tips to the floor of M&S, weighted by shopping bags – and sinks me.



I think I might stop writing this blog and do an email instead. I don’t know why – probably because I have signed up to some and I like them arriving in my inbox because it feels like I have email-writing friends (‘I have friends, I definitely have friends.’) Partly because I’m bored. Partly because I don’t want to publish a never ending archive of whinge on the internet anymore.

Please sign up at if never ending archives of whinge are your thing. I might start using it. Or I might carry on here. WHO KNOWS, HOW EXCITING, ETC. ETC.


NOPES. (I’m fed up, too.)



There are streetlights behind me in the dark, which cast my bicycling shadow onto the road in front. The shadow bicycle is huge, and stretches all the way to the STOP sign up ahead, then swings around to the right and repeats, over and over. Shadows on top of shadows.

I quite like cycling on dark, quiet roads without cars.

My hands are freezing cold though. I need gloves for cycling. Gloves and some high vis clothes and reflective strips. Also I need someone to explain to me what EXCEPT FOR CYCLES actually means when you turn left at the bottom of Longbrook Street, because, if you turn left on a bicycle, like it says you can, then there are pedestrians crossing in the road in front of you, ignoring the red man (don’t cross!) Am I reading traffic lights all wrong? Do I go when it’s red too?

I bumped into my brother on the other side of that junction, on Paris Street – not today, months ago now – and met my new baby nephew there on the pavement. Bus station on one side, underground passages on the other, we hurried off to the cinema. I haven’t seen them since.

With pedestrians safely crossed over the road to John Lewis or Waterstones, I carry on home. Bike in garage, I come into the house and find two of my children already in bed. Partly I am glad that bedtime is done and partly I am sad not to see them, but mostly I am starving and relieved it is the weekend.

E is still up. She shows me their plates which are back from the pottery: the kiln has fired up the colours good and bright.