Where do you start? I often sit in my drop in sessions confronted by a year 11 who is, frankly, overwhelmed. They are finally facing the first point of real decision about their life after years and years of education, assessments, careers advice, open days, workshops and assemblies. They’ve been told about A Levels, Btecs, OCR national diplomas, NVQs, Traineeships and Apprenticeships. They’ve been told about Level 2s and Level 3s, UCAS points, HNDs, BAs and BSc, Masters degrees, graduate schemes, internships and access courses. They’ve been told they HAVE to stay in education or training, by law, until they are 18. They’ve often been sent to me by a teacher, or a parent, who have very well meaning and slightly panicked worries about them. They have no plan. What are they going to do after school/college/uni. Where will they go? Who will they be? They’ve been told, ‘I’ve made an appointment for you to go and meet Amy. She’ll sort you out’. And so they sit, in front of me...
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Toast is wholemeal, I spread my Vitalite And a liberal helping of Marmite, Then I sip his tea to check it’s just right And I’m not a vegan today. Lunch is a hummous wrap with veg And packet falafel which I forget to check Until after it’s gone. It contains egg And I’m not a vegan today. For dinner sausage and mash is planned, My meat free sausages are tasty but bland, But I serve potatoes, and lick butter from my hand, And I’m not a vegan today. The sun comes up, my coffee is brewed Almond milk goes in, my banana is chewed I take a deep breath. I’m at peace with my food And I’ll try to be vegan today. (Again)
One of the biggest talking points at the moment is the government's plans to cap benefits. Now, I don't have the time or energy to explain, or even try and understand the fine points of all the changes, other people have done this far better than me. I would, however, like to respond to the, frankly rather boring and predictable responses that always come up whenever benefits are discussed in public. They are often uttered by those who proudly state they have always worked, never claimed benefits, and invariably wonder at people who dare to have children, homes, televisions, food, water etc. without considering who is going to pay for them. Well, all I can say about these commenters is that I'm very pleased for them that they've never been in a position of vulnerability or disadvantage, and they're right, if everyone was intelligent enough to never need any help from anyone, ever, the world would be a much better place. Unfortunately, ...
Vegan and vegetarian is in. And for good reason. Health, environment, animal rights, you all know it, and so does your newly vegan friend. Many far more educated people than me have made strong arguments for veganism which you can explore here, and at least one of them has appealed to someone you know and they have revealed they are going vegan. Since I took the vegan leap I have heard these questions time and again, and would like to answer them publicly so you don’t have to ask the people you love such silly questions! 1. What? Even Bacon? Yes. Even Bacon. I actually don’t know what the big deal is about bacon, I mean, yes, it’s delicious, but it’s the most easily replicated flavour. Bacon bites that you sprinkle on salads are actually vegan. Plus, I’ve eaten bacon. A lot of bacon. If I have a conservative estimate of two rashers per week for the twenty years I’ve regularly eaten it I would say I’ve eaten around 41kg of bacon in my lifetime. I enjoyed it, but ...
This morning I got up, showered, made my kids their cereal and headed off to catch my bus, but instead of going to work I hid in a coffee shop and stared at the table while my black coffee developed a bored glaze. At 10:10 I picked up the phone and called my GP. Basically I needed to speak to someone or I was going to lose my job. I need my job, but over the past few weeks/months I've become increasingly shit at it. Like, really shit. I can't focus on anything, I'll leave a meeting and forget what my actions were supposed to be. I'll have a really big project to report on and just sit there, all day, staring at the keys on my computer, completely unable to start. There is only so long you can get away with this. I thought I should jump before I was pushed. I spoke to the doctor. She was amazing. Honestly, NHS, you fucking rock. She didn't hurry me, she just asked me to explain. Suddenly the short list of things I thought weren't very important became ...
Within ten minutes today, my living room went from the usual chaos and disorder, to chaos, disorder, and so much poo. Was changing smileyboy's mildly dirty nappy when curlyhead looked at me with panic in her eyes, whinced 'Mummeeeeeey' and let out a rather wet fart. Left smileyboy nappyless but clean on the changing mat, lifted curlyhead under the arms and whooshed her, superman style, to the bathroom. Most of it went in the toilet, apart from a lump that was lost into the husbands discarded socks on the bathroom floor. A pile of washing and some good handwashing later and I lead curlyhead, naked from the waist down, into the living room. Smileyboy was not on his changing mat. He had wriggled/rolled to the other end of the living room. Unfortunately, somewhere along this epic journey of his, his newlyintroducedtosolids bowels had exploded in a fudge of undigested carrot and yuck. And it was everywhere. EVERYWHERE. And he looked so so happy with himself, kicking around his c...
My children have devised a sophisticated telepathic relay system whereby they will immediately wake the moment the other one has fallen asleep. By this means they intend on slowly torturing me with sleep deprivation until they can eventually overthrow me and become feral masters of cosycottage. It's working. I'm slowly becoming a terrible mother. It took me FOUR attempts to toast hot cross buns this morning, and when I finally managed to save one from burning, Curlyhead decided she no longer wanted one for breakfast. Instead she scraped the chocolate fudge icing from last nights cake decorating/chocolate massacre off the kitchen table with her fingernails and ate that. Oh, and took two bites out of each apple in the fruit bowl and put it back. Must have had at least one of her five a day. Smileybaby has eaten his bodyweight in banana and toast this morning. He would probably be crawling by now if it wasn't for his odd instant reflex to flemmy-vomit in front of himself t...
I breastfeed. Smiley baby is nine months old, and has woken twice a night, almost every night, to feed. Until he was six months old he fed just from me, every two hours. Every two hours for six months. I never really intended to do a breastfeeding post. You see, it's something I do, but it's not something I see as character defining. It doesn't make me a better, more connected, more organic, more thoughtful, more middle class, more engaged, more caring mother than the many others who don't breastfeed. It doesn't make me feel as if I belong more fully into that allusive club of mothers who seem to know what they're doing and that they're doing it right. I am not a lactavist, a tiger mother or an earth mother. My breastfeeding does not come in a package with baby wearing, co-sleeping and organic, handmade baby led weaning. I have, of course, tried all of these things, but I have also got a buggy, a cot, and son who, in between injesting immunity boosting whi...
No beating around the bush, the entire intention of this blog is to get people to pay me to write stuff. Because I'm really good at writing stuff. Like, check this out right now. You're reading it, right? Write? I'm also amazing at puns. I love writing. It makes me happy and I can do it all day. Even when, or especially when, I'm supposed to be doing something else which is far more important. Over the years I've written different types of blogs about different things; veganism , politics, employability, parenthood. But they're scattered and inconsistant. I've put examples of all of these on this blog so they are all in one place. Some of them are incomplete, some reflective, some funny, some angry. All honest. But why should you pay me? Well, I can write in a variety of different ways. The words you're reading now are quite typical of opinion style peices found in lifestyle editorials such as The Pool or the Huffington Post. They're chatty and c...