I am an Author, wife to one, mother to five and grandmother to six. I live in the English countryside in Hampshire, UK, with my husband and two dogs and am a non exec Director for Glow www.theglowstudio.com.

  • Living Between the Lines

    A Right Royal Coup…

    All Because of…Princess Tina… Well, on the scale of things, this bit of news is unimportant but, to me, it is quite remarkable. A while ago, I wrote a post called, ‘All Because of Bunty’, believing that this esteemed comic had been responsible for securing me a Pen Friend in America, when I was eleven years old. Not so! Yesterday, my dear pen friend, Kate, with whom I have kept in touch for not quite 50 years, sent me a photograph of a piece of paper her siblings had unearthed in their mother’s house. Clearly, it is the scribbled submission I sent to the comic all those years ago. Looking…

  • Living Between the Lines

    Just being Grandma…

    Sometimes, just being Grandma is great. Wednesday, for instance, is just such a time. 3-year-old Arthur is staying with me for an hour or two while little sister is at nursery and mummy is in a meeting. On arrival, Arthur informs me that, “Grandma! I have growed…look!” (I only saw him yesterday.) I act suitably impressed. We establish that he is well on the way to being as tall as daddy. Once mummy has left, we watch several episodes of Ninja Turtles, “You have to watch this bit, Grandma, there is an awesome jump in a minute…” and I have been made to sit on the floor and wheel a…

  • Living Between the Lines

    No More Ribbons

    A little piece of nostalgia that resides in my files and was first posted here in June, 2010. Well, another airing won’t hurt and the Christmas bugs that hit us this year mean that I am slow to catch up! I hope you enjoy this sneak into the past… January 1962:  I’m five years old and eager to begin the first day, of the first term, of the rest of my school life. Frost white pavements stretch for miles. My shoes tap out an excited rhythm on their blank pages. A warm gloved hand in mine – mother’s hand. Nearly there, nearly over the bridge that crosses the railway tracks…

  • Living Between the Lines

    Time was…

    Time was, I was the one assisting people with their computers and IT problems. I was the one, coding, building websites and even building a computer or two. I was as familiar with motherboards and Y connectors as I have ever been with motherhood and Y-fronts. I may be a bit rusty here and there with the coding, but generally, I still pick up new technology quickly. So, what has happened to change this? First, I decide to top up with petrol on my way to the bank. I drive into the petrol station and pull up beside the pump. The first one has a large notice stuck to it,…

  • Living Between the Lines

    Follow that wasp!

    Monday: “Must be 5,000 if not 10,000 wasps in that tree,” the wasp man tells us. This does not make us feel any better. We wait as he gazes up into the branches. “Can’t see a nest…nothing I can do unless we know where the nest is,” We look at one another, Lisa and I. Isn’t that why we have called him? “They’re feeding now,” “Are they?” The busy buzzing creatures are not bothering us, it is true, they are far too busy. “You need to follow them and see where they go,” That’s helpful. We see a wasp heading off down the garden, just the one. Eagerly, our man…

  • Living Between the Lines

    One sugar or two?

    We are having some building work done at our house. This work has taken the form of an orangery, which is being attached to the kitchen and is to be followed by the fitting of an entirely new kitchen. Exciting stuff if you can stand it. The work has of course, been a tad disruptive. An exterior wall being knocked down, a patio dug up, nothing has been quiet nor without its share of rubble and dust. My kitchen has been dismantled, My routine shattered. My tactic is to remain calm and carry on. We have taken to visiting local places of interest. At this juncture, I should say that…

  • Living Between the Lines

    Over the hedge

    Five-year-old William had done the unthinkable and hurled his younger brother’s sunglasses up into the air and over the hedge. You may remember me doing something similar in a fit of jealousy, with my sister’s silk knickers? Could this be a family trait? I shan’t admit such a thing. The first I knew of the incident was when William came running in from the garden calling out, “Grandma, Grandma, you’ve got to help me!” Of course, I dropped whatever I was doing and followed him down the garden. Three-year-old Elliott stood with a sorrowful expression, by the hedge. “William,” (pronounced, Wi’yam) “threw my sunglasses into the hedge,” he told me,…

  • Uncategorized

    Are you being served?

    “Let’s nip out for a coffee,” The phrase is bandied about at weekends here. It can cover a multitude of things. We could be suggesting going somewhere to discuss a new plan, share some exciting news. The coffee might turn out to be tea, the venue might become a pub but generally, we end up sitting in a quaint little café or tea room or at a ‘Costa Coffee’, to get away from it all for half an hour. The experience is normally relaxing, often insightful and in most cases, refreshing. Occasionally, the trip will include lunch but either way, it is one of life’s little treats in the busy…

  • Living Between the Lines

    Nights in Pink Satin

    As I reached across the gas hob to retrieve a wooden spoon, I felt the heat rush up my arm. Husband had left the gas ring on, ‘simmer’. I hastily withdrew my arm before the flimsy material of my blouse could catch alight. That single act brought another image to mind, an image of another item of clothing that did not escape the flames and indeed, that can still cause me to squirm and die a little of shame, each time I remember it. I was 3 years old. The year was 1960. It should be said that sibling jealousy played a big part in what was about to happen.…

  • Puptales

    Biscuits and kind words …

    The waiting room at the Veterinary surgery, is empty. Flossie and I cross the threshold together. Except we don’t. Flossie takes a backward step and I have to give her a gentle tug to coax her into the room. She twists round on her lead and makes the whole procedure somewhat difficult but, we are in, eventually. Why are we here? Simple really. If you have read A twist in the Tail, you will know that Flossie recently had a traumatic experience involving a hedge in which she got firmly entangled. Having emerged, apparently unscathed, it transpired that, unbeknown to us, she had sustained a scratch below her ear. Charlie,…