*The mother of all Sundays*
Happy Mother’s Day. It seems vaguely fitting for me to finally update on a day when, nation-wide, mothers are being celebrated. Mine, sadly, is thousands of miles away ‘celebrating’ by cooking my siblings roast lamb but this is my own doing, being on holiday for a few days.
Mother’s Day falls on the same weekend as International Women’s Day. Read more of my thoughts on that and holidaying alone here. But it’s a strange – and not unwelcome – thought that this will be the last Mother’s Day I have where I am not in that role. Who knows what I will be doing this time next year, but I would put money on it not being sitting, relaxed, turning a pale shade of Rich Tea, by a pool with the rest of the day to do with as I please.
Mother’s Day also sees a resurfacing of my first ever book. Foxtail Lily. I have dug out the manuscript, given it a virtual shake and dust and am ready to work on it again to bring it up to date. So, if all goes according to plan, there should be two new arrivals this summer.
Why I started writing
Imagine you’re thirteen and perched on a stool in a science lab, sitting in a lesson surrounded by your classmates. The teacher asks everyone who knows what they want to be to put their hands in the air.
Twenty years ago, this happened to me. I scoffed a little at the time, feeling pretty confident no one would raise their hands. But guess how many went up? Twenty six. Twenty six in a class of twenty eight – and I suspect someone was off sick, too. They usually were when we had double science. Anyway, my hand wasn’t one of them.
It turned out that I’d become a teacher myself but back then, I didn’t have a clue what I wanted to be ‘when I grew up’: who I wanted to be, where I wanted to go or what I wanted to do when I got there, but – rightly or wrongly after that science lab incident – I thought these were things that other people seemed pretty much figured out.
It seems not. By the 21st century how many jobs will children have? Currently, according to the Dept. of Labour it is 10-14 in the USA before the age of 38. Whether you’re thirteen or thirty-three, growing up and career stuff is confusing. And in case I’m not the only one who thinks this, I hope to explore issues, whether they be to do with identity, relationships, career, fashion or chocolate. I’ll also throw parents and weddings in there too.
Because let’s face it, there’s enough stress to be found at school, college, work or life generally at the moment without another boring website to add to the mix. So I hope you enjoy this one.