Posted in Children, Christmas, memories, parenting

Oh go then, it is Christmas…

Hello lovely people.

How are we all doing?

Who’s still in the ‘time twixt Christmas and New Year’ haze?

Let’s check:

🔶 Do you know what day it is? (Erm, well Christmas was on a Tuesday and that was a few days ago-ish, so it’s definitely…….a day ending with y.)

🔶 When is your next bin collection? (Hmm, normal day is Tuesday….. we worked out a minute ago that Christmas was Tuesday so no noisy bin folk… so probably…..hang on what day is it today anyway… I don’t know where the dangly bit of card with the Very Important Reorganised Dates on is. Let’s just keep on an eye on next door, they’ll know…)

🔶What did you have for breakfast today? (Was it standard, run of the mill, everyday, socially acceptable breakfast fare? Or…..not? For example; yesterday I enjoyed Baileys Roulade for breakfast and I’m not even sorry.)

🔶Have you answered any questions with the words “oh go on then, it is Christmas”? (Shall we open another packet of Brie?/ Can we stay in pyjamas all day?/ Drink?/Another drink?)

🔶Are you regularly refereeing Selection Box Ownership battles? (That’s my Fudge bar, he’s had two Crunchies now, she’s eaten my Oreo bar – er nope she hasn’t, it underwent quality control -)

🔶Are you still discovering gourmet worthy ways of serving cold turkey? (We’ve had ‘cold meats and cheeses’, turkey soup, turkey carbonara, Christmas dinner pasta bake, turkey rolls…..)

I think we can safely say that we are all suffering from ‘holiday season hangover’.

So. Christmas at The Circus was fairly standard. We recently got a new oven so it didn’t take 27.6 hours to cook the turkey (and for anyone who remembers the soap opera worthy goings on of last year, you’ll be pleased to know that no wildlife pretested the poultry this time)

Noodle decided to be my sous chef for the Christmas cooking, especially with the very important pigs in blankets. However, he discovered upon opening the bacon that it had been packaged in Suffolk so therefore must be posh. So it transpired that our meaty side dish was to become ‘porkers in ponchos’.

Pickle had the double delight again of her Christmas Day birthday. She was over the moon to receive the only two things that she craved in life; a violin and a microphone.

It sounded so idyllic, ah she wants a violin, how sweet, we shall of course purchase one with haste. Oh how wrong we were.

The Noise. I cannot begin to describe the sound that a five year old can make with a violin.

But this is me so I will, of course, try: imagine a hybrid animal somewhere between a mouse and a hyena (I’ll give you a minute). Then imagine that this creature is forced to walk barefoot on Lego whilst simultaneously having its teeth pulled out with pinking shears. Then. And only then. Will you be any where close to the melodic harmonies that are produced. You live and learn.

All due respect to CircusHusband who remembered my desire for a pyrography kit, and further respect for an afternoon of lone parenting while I sat with three of my fingers submerged in cold water after my first go. In case anyone has ever wondered; human fingers are not designed to withstand the heat required to burn wood (who says these blog posts aren’t educational?!)

The finished article.

So, all in all. Not a bad Christmas period I suppose. I have to be honest, I struggle with Christmas. Don’t get me wrong, I love the lead up; the music, the lights, the present buying. It’s just the day itself, it always feels a touch anticlimactic, and rushed and chaotic (yes I know, I have control issues which don’t help). But we made it through, and Boxing Day was much easier to digest (it may or may not have had something to do with the discovery of chocolate orange Baileys) so all was well.

The 28th of December is the anniversary of losing my Mum which, even after many years, always clouds my Christmas somewhat. This year we spent it quietly at home and played some of her favourite songs on the Echo (we now have three in the house, if you have never used them as walkie talkies then you haven’t lived). It wasn’t sad, but acts as a reminder to tell people you love them while you can, and to show appreciation to those in your life who deserve it. Everyday is a gift, that’s why it’s called the present.

A few more limbo days now until we hit the excitement of New Year. What will 2019 bring? In The Circus we are hoping for health and happiness; for CircusHusband’s new career path to continue expanding, for my writing to hit the wider audience (I know, god help everyone), and for lots of laughs.

I hope you all had an enjoyable Christmas in whichever way you choose to spend it.

Welcome to my world.


Posted in Uncategorized

Straying from the normal posting path…

Today’s blog post is slightly different to the usual, but today is a difficult day in The Circus and this blog is supposed to be an unfiltered look at circus life. So please bear with me and normal service will be resumed soon.

Today my Mum should be celebrating her 62nd birthday but in my head she will never be a day older than the age at which we lost her nearly 11 years ago.

Grief is a very personal and individual emotion and there is no right or wrong way to deal with it, this is what has prompted me to post this today (believe me, by the time you read this, it will have been typed and deleted multiple times before I plucked up the courage to press Publish). I’m not one for sharing my emotions as those who know me will testament to, but if my words, however clumsily presented, can aid even one person in realising that whatever feelings they are experiencing are justified, valid and perfectly acceptable then I will consider it worthwhile.

Please, please share this with anyone who might need to hear it; anyone who’s ever felt pressured to put a time frame on their grief.

The Greatest Healer’s Flaw.

Some days exist to simply prove,
that time; it must go on.
Time doesn’t heal, it merely masks,
the scars are never gone.

When loved ones die, you lose a limb,
through metaphor at least.
Though lives and minds are straightened out,
your heart’s forever creased.

People watching from outside,
assume which days are worst,
but it’s not always the ‘special’ days,
that cause the tears to burst

Yes, it’s true that certain dates,
make staying strong quite hard,
birthday gifts you’d want to buy,
nowhere to send a card.

The day that marks each year of passing,
is known so you prepare,
you spend the day safely cocooned,
with those for who you care.

The days that prove that time won’t heal,
expand both far and wide.
The days you need that person’s ear,
to talk to, to confide.

When something lovely happens,
a thing you’d love to share,
the person you’d most love to tell….
…..simply isn’t there.

When you lose a parent,
quite early on in life,
before you become somebody’s Mum,
and someone else’s wife,
you also lose the wisdom,
advice to be passed down.
You lose a proud companion to choose a wedding gown.

It’s simple things, and silly things,
that really break your heart,
a memory not quite recalled,
will always miss a part,
there’s no one there to fill the gaps,
to make the thought complete.

Ends are always left untied,
death is never neat.

Grief; it has no ‘best before’.
No date of expiration.
It comes.
It goes.
It ebbs.
It flows.
Depending on occasion.

You learn to live your life again.
You learn to carry on.
Time it does not heal wounds.
Those scars are never gone.


Sending love, empathy and support to anywhere it is needed