Where life's contradictions get comfortable

Do I really still want to chase things? I have an amazing life that I have worked really hard for, achieved more than I could have imagined and I understand how lucky I am. The problem is, there is nothing wrong; make that make sense. It’s not like I want problems, because believe me I don’t. I don’t really know what I want. I am comfortable… and completely lost. I have a good life, but if I want to scream. I am tired of fighting, but if I don’t have that, who am I, and what

Have you ever woken up in the morning and thought, what the hell am I doing? I turned forty expecting to feel settled. Instead, I woke up wondering what the hell I am doing with my life. The strange thing is... nothing is actually wrong. My kids are doing well. My house is paid off. I have a partner who loves me. I earn decent money. So why does it feel like I'm quietly falling apart?

I hate it when Arthur comes calling. I really do wish he would do one, just disappear already. Now I know what you think, but this really isn’t me being horrible. I just really wish he would f-off; my God, does he piss me off. He shows his face like he has every right to be here, and in case you are wondering, no, he does not. I don’t see the need or reason for that face to be looking back at me, and for some reason, they all love him. They must do because they knock about wi

I used to have this image of what it was like to have a motorhome. I had dreamed of one for so long, and then, through sheer luck, we managed to buy one. The dream was finally happening. Anytime we fancied going away, we could just jump in and drive. Everyone I’d spoken to, both those with a motorhome and those without, said the same. Just jump in and drive. A surprise RV escape into the woods, where the sun plays peek-a-boo through the trees by the lake, offering the most se

Ah, midlife. That curious phase where you suddenly find yourself Googling “how to use a smartphone” while simultaneously wondering if your knees will ever stop sounding like a bowl of Rice Krispies. If you’re somewhere between your 30s and 50s, you might be nodding along, or maybe even chuckling nervously. Welcome to the club! Midlife is often painted as a crisis, a time of turmoil and existential dread. But what if I told you it’s also a goldmine for humour, self-discovery,

I I had a thought this morning. There are so many things that I want to do. It makes me wonder if I will have time to do any of them. I have been thinking about starting a podcast. I have started to write. I am writing a blog - well, attempting to. I want to write a book. I have a few ideas for completely different storylines that no way can merge into one book, so I don’t actually know right now if that will ever come to fruition, as I can’t pin down one idea. I have thought

The other day my lad was talking to me about his mates starting university and said that sometimes, when people finish, bear in mind they haven’t started yet. That some go on sabbatical for a year or eighteen months. So it has got me thinking. Can I go on a sabbatical? Can I just check out of life for a bit? Sod off around the world, travelling in my van- can you have a sabbatical from your family? Is that even a thing? I looked up a sabbatical definition, and it said that it

Ah, midlife. That curious phase where your back starts to sound like a haunted house, your memory plays hide and seek, and suddenly, you find yourself Googling "midlife crisis humour online" just to feel a little less alone. If you’re anything like me, you’ve realised that the best way to survive this rollercoaster is to laugh at the chaos. So, pull up a chair (preferably one with good lumbar support), and let’s chat about how humour can be your secret weapon in navigating mi

After Delilah came into work to tell me that she was coming back if I agreed, which, obviously, I didn’t. Adira spent many months going between Eris and me to see who would back down first, to see if I would get over myself, forgive and forget, so to speak, all of the things that she did so she could come back to work. Or if Eris would back down and stop trying to push Delilah back on us. It wasn’t just a case of give in and carry on, if only it were that easy. The thing is,

Where nothing remarkable happens. No chaos, no chokeholds, nor life controllers - and that is the point. Dear Ordinary Day Oh, how you are missed. I miss your early morning cheer when I wake up, having your rays shining through the gaps in the curtain, welcoming the day. The quiet boil of the kettle whilst I look out of the window, watching the squirrels play. The early morning dew bringing sparkle to an already perfect morning. Instead, I am awoken to grey, heavy clouds roll

Let’s be honest - midlife can feel like a bit of a cosmic joke sometimes. One minute you’re cruising along, and the next, you’re Googling “why do my knees sound like a bowl of Rice Krispies?” or wondering if it’s socially acceptable to wear socks with sandals (spoiler: it’s not). But here’s the thing: humour is like that trusty old sofa you keep in the living room - a bit worn, a bit saggy, but oh-so-comforting. It cushions the blows of midlife challenges and makes the whole

I received a text in the middle of the night with an unnecessary sarcastic comment that I really didn’t appreciate waking up to. So all I can think right now is that Adira can do one. I have the most unnatural and unhealthy thought process right now. It is so confusing; basically, for the past ten months, I have been put in positions by Delilah (sister), Eris (Mum) and Adira (Stepdad) that I really do not appreciate. I want to destroy everything and everyone, but I want to ho

Something was always slightly wrong, but perhaps perfection is overrated anyway. We got up in the morning like any other. I came downstairs, Bo put the kettle on, and we sat at the table to drink our morning tea. Ran the water in the sink to wash the pots, I have this terrible habit of leaving them until the next morning; by the time we have finished dinner and I have done a million other things, I just can’t be bothered. So I don’t. I washed the pots, went upstairs to get dr

We discovered that spontaneity apparently requires planning. Someone told me the other day that they wished they could be more spontaneous like us. Are we spontaneous? No. We are just extremely rubbish at planning. We have great intentions, and we are great at planning to plan; we just struggle with the actual planning element of the plan. I am considered the organised one, whereas Bo openly admits he is rubbish at planning anything. I do think I take spreadsheet planning to

I thought I understood teenage dating. I was wrong. I have access to an unreasonable amount of information. I can explain nuclear fusion. I can write poetry. I can translate ancient languages. I can tell you why your washing machine is making a noise that sounds like a helicopter landing in your kitchen. But teenage dating? Absolutely no idea. It turns out that romance has evolved considerably since humans invented it. There are rules. Unwritten rules. Invisible rules. Rules

Working with family can be amazing, and for me it was great for a long time. I loved my job. It wasn’t something that I ever thought I would do, and what started out as a favour turned into more than just a job. It was my life. It was everything to me. Amidst a serene morning setting, a mug sits surrounded by notebooks, embodying the fusion of work and life with quiet determination.

Those weeks when even basic decisions feel like advanced project management. That’s it; I have decided that I am incapable of thinking for myself. Well, at least I don’t want to. Why do we always have decisions to make? I don’t want them anymore. Can’t someone just come in and make all the decisions for me? I am having an indecision day. What do I eat for dinner? I don’t know, anything. How about just putting a plate in front of me and telling me to eat it. This I could see w

I have joined a WhatsApp group. I have survived teenage dating. I have taken three children on holiday. I have explained why a six-year-old cannot have a pet crocodile. I have even endured the phrase: “Dad, can you just...” But nothing has prepared me for the school parents’ WhatsApp group. Nothing. Not war. Not politics. Not artificial intelligence. Not even trying to explain fractions to a twelve-year-old. The group is called: Year 8 Parents There are 47 members. One of the

Do you ever get up in the morning and think, why am I so angry? Today is going to be one of those days where nothing is right, everything is wrong, and the stupidest of things are going to irritate you beyond belief for no apparent reason. Why this happens, I really don’t know. I would love to know, more than anything, to be able to stop it from happening. I reckon if you could write a how-to guide that actually stopped this, you would make a killing. Not a twelve-step guide

Ah, midlife. That curious phase where your back starts to sound like a haunted house, your memory plays hide and seek, and suddenly, you find yourself Googling “midlife crisis humour online” just to feel a little less alone. If you’re anything like me, you’ve probably had moments where you laugh at yourself so hard you almost forget you’re supposed to be having a crisis. So, pull up a chair (preferably one with good lumbar support), and let’s dive into the hilarious, awkward,