photo credit: w12 - William Wordsworth via photopin (license)

Just write?

I’ve heard the advice a thousand times, if you wish to finish a story or a book you should write a little every day. Just write.


I am not a professional writer so I have no deadlines. I can write what I want when I want to. However I cannot write when I don’t want to.

I thought when my youngest daughter headed to secondary school, leaving me free until 4.30 pm, I’d have plenty time. We are now four weeks in and I’ve never had so little time.

I’ve begun two stories, one of which I really like, but I’ve stalled on them because of my lack of time. So what to do?

Heed the advice and write little and often, or wait and when the time is right get writing?

The other day I decided I’d try the little and often method. I sat down and re read my story, cutting a little here and there before continuing where I left off. Time flew by and before I knew it I had to stop. As I drove off to do what I had to do I felt so frustrated. My character was running about in my head and the story continued to flow, but I had no way of writing it.

Since then I’ve thought about my character often. I haven’t the heart to go back and have to leave again. Instead my story just sits there, gathering cobwebs until my life gets less hectic. Whenever that may be.

I live in hope it will be in the next week or so, but who knows as I’ve not even had time to blog as I’d like. My characters will, for now, have to continue to live in my head and enjoy being allowed to do just as they please, unchecked.

Until I find the time, heedless of advice, to write as I please when I please.

photo credit: w12 – William Wordsworth via photopin (license)

photo credit: Eclissi totale di Luna via photopin (license)

The night of the red moon.

Ah the night of the red moon. Did you see it?

They told us it would a very rare, spectacular occurence. I thought I’d better make an effort to see it as I’m not getting any younger. Only the other day I’d a headache, and yesterday I sat for so long I had a sore back, surely both serious signs my time is running out.

So I googled and facebooked ‘red moon’. By the time my children were going to bed I was a self-declared expert.

However in reality my googling might have been a little distracted by the incredibly exciting episode of ‘Downton Abby’ I was watching on TV. I may have approached my red moon research similar to the way I used to study all those years ago, by skimming, speed reading and imagining I knew it all.

My youngest was the only child who was enthused by my wonder at this amazing moment in time. We agreed we would meet at 1.10am in the kitchen. I suppose in hindsight I should have gone to bed early, but I forgot, and found myself crawling into bed at 12.45am.

Minutes later (literally) the alarm went off. My OH didn’t stir, and for a moment I felt sorry for him. I mean he’s older than I am, surely he’d never get to see a red moon in the short time left in his photo credit: <a href=life? I stumbled out of bed and as arranged met my youngest in the kitchen.

To be fair the moon was magnificent. It was enormous, brightly shining in a clear sky, lighting up the house and back garden as if it were a spotlight on a sports pitch. Yes it was spectacular, but something was not quite right. The more I stared at it the more I knew without doubt, this moon was white not red.

Turning to my sleep deprived daughter I asked her could she see any red at all. She took a moment to study it, and even opened the back door to see it ‘up close’ before coming in shaking her heard, ‘Nope, it’s definitely not red’ she agreed.

Unwilling to admit I may not have researched this properly, I began to surreptitiously google ‘what time will the feckin moon turn red?’ Sick I discovered it would be sometime between 3.30 and 4.15 am. I blamed google and advised my little one that I would set my alarm for 3.30 and if it was red I’d wake her. Not convinced, she continued to watch the moon do nothing at all for another fifteen minutes, before bowing out.

3.30 came and a divil for punishment I got my ass out of bed once more, reminding myself I’d be a long time dead. I stumbled downstairs and made my way to the back door, excited to see the amazing red moon. I burst out onto the patio and looked up to see…

Nothing! Absolutely feckin nothing! As I scanned the skies I noted the beautiful bright moon of

photo credit: <a href=

Nothing to see here!

earlier was no more. In its place was a partially visible moon half black, half white and very definitely not red. Shaking my head, filled with confusion and disappointment, I wearily made my way back to bed, more than a little envious of yer man, still sleeping peacefully.

The following morning I got up for the third time, a little light-headed and sleep deprived. My daughter was not impressed wondering why I didn’t wake her.

‘Have you ever stood in a room, in the dark of night and turned off the light?’ I asked her.
‘Yes’ she replied.
‘Well sweetheart, that would mean you have already seen a red moon’.

When ‘yer man’ asked us what it was like, I could see the delight in his well rested face, as he acknowledged he’d dodged a bullet.

I was just about getting over my disappointment when my youngest appeared with her phone in hand and a face that didn’t say ‘I love you’.

‘Mum, admit it, you slept through’ she said thrusting her phone at me.

I looked and there was within her phone much photographic evidence of a large, round red moon.

‘That’s been photoshopped’ I said defensively, ‘don’t believe the internet. Anyway maybe that’s in America?’.

‘Mum, it was taken in Cork city’.

So it looks like I’m the only person who got up twice in one night and still managed to miss the main event. Now I’ll have to look after myself, drink less and take vitamin tablets daily, in order to ensure I get another chance someday in the future, to wake up in the dead of night to witness this rare event.

Or else I might follow himself’s example, sleep peacefully, barely glance at photos, and briefly mutter, ‘Lovely’.

photo credit: Eclissi totale di Luna via photopin (license)
photo credit: Sliver via photopin (license)

photo credit: IMG_8724 via photopin (license)

A post I wont be writing.

I am reminded today of comments I’ve received from friends and my mum, ‘Don’t dare put me in your blog’. Sometimes I’ve ignored them and thankfully I’ve been forgiven. I like to think, despite their protestations, they did in fact like what was written.

However appearing on my blog is not for everyone.

So today with that in mind, I will not write a word about a certain someone who has brought so much joy to my life. I wont speak of how proud I am as I remember this day eighteen years ago.

As promised, not a word.

Instead I’ll share this song I chose many years ago for a certain child of mine. Any parent will be able to relate to this one. If I were to say ‘Happy Birthday’ to a certain child of mine on their 18th, this is the song I would publish.

But I’m not going to.

Freshly Impressed

Freshly impressed #13

Another week has passed and it’s time once more to discover who has ‘freshly impressed’ me this week on the net.

Two beautiful posts caught my attention, both written about the bloggers young children. These posts not only struck a chord at reading, but continued to live with me afterwards, always a good sign of a post.

The first is written by Office Mum who is a mother of three. In this post she beautifully captures those moments of guilt we all feel, when we realise we treat a first child differently, because after all they are no longer babies. It’s called ‘First child’.

My second choice is from the much undervalued and always worth a read blog, ‘Tenderness on the block’. Like many bloggers she is unwilling to share too much detail about her family online and yet sometimes wishes she could put a moment into words. In this post she writes a lovely post, about not writing a post. Read it and you will understand, and I’m sure agree. It’s called, ‘Dear daughter’.

My final choice is from a blogger I have followed for almost as long as I’ve been blogging. Her blog is ‘The Chatter Blog’, and I love this particular post. It tells the story of an elderly couple she knew, who were together up to old age, yet didn’t feel they shared a great love for each other. It will leave you with many questions about the meaning of true love. It’s called ‘No Great Love’.

So there you have it, just some of the posts which have ‘freshly impressed’ me this week. I hope you have enjoyed them as much as I did.

Thanks as always to Duncan from for my amazing Freshly Impressed logo.

To writers and my readers… I’m looking for your help please.

Okay, deep breath.

It’s not easy to write this without a glass of wine in me but I’m going to (and hope I then press publish). Over a year ago a blog buddy of mine, Duncan,from Madhatters, suggested I put some of my posts together and publish a small ebook for Christmas. He said he would buy it, so that’s one sold anyway. At the time I felt it was way out of my depth and I did nothing.

However a year or more has passed and I’m beginning to wonder if I could. My reasons for doing so are: 1. To learn about the process of self publishing, without putting a precious book I may write some day into the future at risk, and 2. The enjoyment of editing old posts and gathering them together under different titles; possibly parenting, humour, inspiration and stories.

My problem is… where do I start? Apart from googling ‘self publishing’ and trawling through a million posts I’ve no idea at all what to do. So I am asking my writing pals here have you any advice to allow me self publish as simply as possible?

To my readers I also have a question (or two)
1. What do you think of my idea?
2. What type of posts do you most enjoy reading on my blog, that you would wish to read in an ebook?

The reason I took a deep breath before writing or publishing this, is that it is not easy to ask for help. What if no one answers? What if I don’t go through with it and I’ve said I will?

However I really do want to further my writing and I believe this would be a really interesting first step. It would not be to make money, as the book will probably be only minimally priced, or even free. So please if you have any advice at all for me let me know,either here or via my contact me.

Thanks again each and everyone of you, who take the time so regularly to read my nonsense and to those of you who comment and share so openly.
I’m pleased I’ve had the nerve to write this post, now the only question is, will I ever publish it? Mmmm is it too early for wine?

Photo credit Maria Elena

photo credit: a900_angel_halo via photopin (license)

Is there life after death?

Do you believe in God? An afterlife? Nothing at all? One God, creation, retribution, reincarnation or Heaven?

Personally none of that makes sense to me.

However one of my greatest friends lost her young boy to cancer almost two years ago. She is religious and has a deep faith, firmly believing he is in heaven and some day she will be reunited with him.

So what do I say to her? Rubbish? Tell her she is wrong? Just because I have no faith does that mean I am right?

Up until young Daniel died I was very comfortable with my lack of belief. However since then I’ve found myself look for him, talk to photo credit: Matt Preston via photopin cchim and wonder about where he is, most days. I lost my own dad when I was just twenty one, and have spoken to him almost every day since. I have wanted to, and continue to want to believe, he would never have left me, and as a result is never far away.

Last week young Daniel should have been getting his junior cert results, along with thousands of other Irish children aged 15/16. The day was so sad, as we quietly mourned the young boy who never got the chance to sit those exams or enjoy the party atmosphere of results day…or night.

The following day I, and a group of friends, headed away. (Remember?) Daniels mum was among us. One of the days I felt she was a little distracted, perhaps missing her young son or coming to terms with the fact he had missed another milestone.

We took ourselves off to the beach.

Late in the evening we were all sitting around chatting as the sun was going down. Daniels mum was in full flow, when a white butterfly began to fly around her. It settled on her hand, her head and her shoulder. As she continued to speak she gently waved the butterfly out of her way. Each time it flew but a few inches, before returning to her. I was mesmerised, for I had heard many times 8244124634_5b9b96411b_nan old belief, that a butterfly symbolises a soul making contact. I continued to watch as it fluttered about her. Despite knowing my friend was in a little more pain than her normal that day, I decided to speak up, and share with her what a butterfly is said to symbolise. One of the other girls concurred with my story, as she too had been noting it’s attraction. Dan’s mum paused for a moment to look at the butterfly before it flew off once more. It never came near the rest of us, nor did it fly to any neighbouring beach goers. During the remaining three days we never again saw a butterfly on the beach.

Thinking back on that moment, I have no idea whether this is a myth or not, but what I do know, is that on a day my buddy was crying inside for her young boy, this butterfly came her way.

Maybe it means nothing, but wouldn’t it be wonderful if it did?

photo credit: White Butterfly via photopin (license)

photo credit: a900_angel_halo via photopin (license)

photo credit: Kman999 via photopin cc

Real men play sport in Ireland

Many of you will perhaps have no idea that here in Ireland we have two national sports, Gaelic football and Hurling, affectionately known as G.A.A or gaah. These are part of every parish in Ireland with children playing them from an early age. While other sports threaten to take away some of their popularity, they are still enjoyed by enormous numbers.

Today is one of the biggest days in GAA, it’s All Ireland Football day. Over 86,000 will attend the final in Dublin having sweated, bartered and possibly in some cases sold a kidney or their mother in order to get tickets. The rest of the country will fill bars and sitting rooms to watch it on television.

So what are these sports and how do they differ from other sports? Well for starters they are unique to Ireland, involve a lot of physical contact and very little protection. They are also faster and way more exciting than any other ball game I’ve ever watched.

Don’t believe me? Well have a look at hurling in this clip. Recently I heard a quote relating to a day John Wayne came to Ireland and watched a match for the first time. He was asked ‘Would you like to be out there with a hurley?’ He answered, ‘Well I sure as hell wouldn’t like to be out there without one’.

So watch and be amazed. This is real men in action!

Now when you are recovered you can sit back and enjoy the slightly less frightening but no less physical game that is Gaelic Football. Today my home county Dublin will take on Kerry. The city v the country. My flag is flying and I’m hoping for victory. Up the Dubs. Sorry you can’t share the excitement with me but watch this and imagine you are here in Ireland playing a real mans sport.

Important update… After a nail biting seventy five minutes Dublin are the All Ireland Champions 2015. :)

photo credit: Kman999 via photopin cc

Freshly Impressed

Freshly Impressed is back.

A year ago I got fed up with that gang over in ‘Freshly Pressed’ always missing my posts so I decided to begin my own award called ‘Freshly Impressed’. Each week I’d select a few posts I’d really enjoyed and share them here with those of you who might have missed them. Sometimes they were posts from blogs I followed, but equally they could be from a blog I’d come across by accident.

Here are the blogs who ‘Freshly Impressed’ me this week. I’ve gone with all comedy this week because we could all do with a laugh.

First on the list is a blog I only recently found called BunKaryudo. Every thing he writes is brillantly written and his musings on every day life’s happenings are very funny. Definitely a read that will never disappoint. I could have chosen any of his posts but here is his latest offering. I rarely laugh out loud, but Freshly Impressedthis one was impossible to read quietly. Read it, I guarantee you will not regret it and a new blog will be added to your reader.

My next choice is for anyone who is, or who ever was a parent of a child who would quite happily stay up all night. Aedin from the blog Mini’s and Mum thought all her prayers were answered when she read of a new book written by a psychologist which purports to put children to sleep. Lets just say things didn’t go quite to plan. This review/public service announcement called ‘Down the rabbit hole and into the bin a review of the rabbit who wants to fall asleep’ is a great fun read well worth your time.

My final choice is a birth story. Before you dismiss it this is a story with a difference. It comes from the blog of My little Babog and describes the day she gave birth to her newest arrival in her hallway. Told with plenty of humour it is a riveting read and definitely freshly impressed me. Why not check it out here

So there you have it my choice of blogs which ‘freshly impressed’ me this week. I hope you enjoyed them.

Credit to Duncan at madhatters for my freshly Impressed award logo.

Who can I sue?

I’ve been a fairly useless wife for some time now, even though I’d never admit it to you know who. Take a measure of laziness, a teaspoon of ‘I hate housework’ and a bucket load of ‘I want to be on holiday’ and you will just about get what I’m like. However, photo credit: david__jones via photopin ccthis morning as I pushed himself out the door to work, something came over me. It was time to give back, to look after this fella a bit better.

So I decided I’d make an effort, but what would I do? Maybe buy myself something nice to wear, so he could appreciate the beauty he has landed himself? No too much effort.
Perhaps I could simply make the bed, or tidy the kitchen, load the dishwasher or hoover? Then I thought what would be left for him to do? So instead I decided to heed the old adage, ‘the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach’. Yes, great idea, I’d bake him something he would like.

After much thought, and the realisation that the majority of my recipes involve chocolate, I decided I’d better look online. You see, as in most parts of our life together, we prove opposites attract, I love chocolate and he loves healthy. At last I found what I wanted, a ‘super easy’ banana bread. How healthy was that? He’d be delighted.

I gathered all the ingredients, and with military precision I began to follow the recipe. Even when the old me nearly surfaced and was tempted to not bother ‘adding the flour and egg slowly while folding it in’, I resisted. In no time at all I was finished. I scanned the recipe to see if I’d forgotten anything, but no all was good. As I put it into my pre heated oven, (which the old me would also not really have bothered with), I was more than pleased with myself and, if truth be told, I even began to sing. A sure sign of self satisfaction. In thirty minutes I’d have lovely warm banana bread.

Walking away from the oven I decided I’d better charge my phone. This momentous occasion would surely demand a photo, or a whole series of them, similar to those I see on so many domestic goddesses blogs. I allowed myself to get a little excited, at last I’d created shareable content for facebook. Imagine how many would share my ‘made in a moment’ banana bread?

Well let me tell you my singing soon died a death. I checked on my creation bang on thirty minutes. It was slightly brown but definitely oozing liquid from the centre. Don’t panic, I thought, my oven is not the greatest and perhaps due to lack of practice had forgotten how to cook. ‘Give it a bit more time’ I thought.

So I did.

One hour later and dear God it was still not looking great. I began to wonder would it ever cook? By now two of my children had arrived home from school and joined me in watching the cake not cook, for another twenty minutes.

What it didn't look like.

What it didn’t look like.

Bored and fed up we decided it had to come out. Thankfully it was now brown and there was no visible oozing. I turned it out onto a wire tray, as advised, and rested it (I’ve all the correct terms learned after my busy afternoon). My children were inclined to poke it, and laughed as it wobbled. One of them couldn’t resist tearing a piece off to reveal a goo. ‘Oh mum, it’s mank’ they shouted, ‘Yeuk it’s gross’. I made the fatal mistake to begin excusing my ‘creation’. ‘That’s the banana’ I said, ‘we have to wait for it to cool’.

So we did. Hours have passed since we took it out of the oven. It’s fallen to half it’s size and sadly we are still waiting for the gooey banana to cool. However if you can remember, the reason I bothered to waste my afternoon ‘creating’ was to speak to my OH through his stomach. I had hoped to say, ‘thanks for everything’ but I’m not sure what my gooey mess ended up saying. The good news is, my OH would eat anything. He has tasted it and at time of typing is not dead, so all ends well.

However I would like to caution those of you who may be tempted by recipes which begin with, Easy, Simple or Brilliant. I have proof they are most definitely not. Next time I think I’ll make the bed.

Photo BBC Brilliant banana bread.

square malaga

Malaga as experienced by me.

Just a quick post to let you know I and my fellow ladies survived our few days away. In fact we more than survived it, loving every minute. Here’s a brief recap of some of my finer moments,

View from our balcony.

View from our balcony.

In airport bookshop at 5am…

Me… ‘I’ll have this book thank you’,
Shop assistant… ‘and the pack of mentos’,
Me (not listening)…’Just the book thank you’.
Shop assistant… ‘And the packet of mentos’.
Me… ‘What?’
Shop assistant pointing to my open bag.. ‘And that packet of mentos’
Me (looking at the sweets I’d unconsciously put in my bag) ‘Oh whoops sorry, yes indeed, and those mentos’.
Shop assistant nodding sympathetically while looking at my bed head.. ‘It’s very early’

On arrival at Malaga airport.

Very organised friend… Well Tric have you the apartment address?
Me… Eh no.
Very organised friend… Oh. Well have you a telephone number?
Me… No.

Beautiful living room

Beautiful living roomMe…No.

Very organised friend looking a bit pale… What about email?
Me…Nope, I’ve no internet, but it’s okay its in a place called constitution plaza.
Very organised friend, speaking in high pitched tone… ‘That’s all you know?’
Me… Ye but it’s on a corner and I know what it looks like.
Very organised friend takes deep breath and calls others for collective counselling.

Other amazing facts were,
We managed to walk to the beach in fifteen minutes but the walk home in the evening took three hours. (We might have been thirsty)
Five out of six women love shopping. (Based of recent research)
When women are away from family they rarely feel the need to talk about them.
It is possible to laugh from morning until night.

Spacious corridor.

Spacious corridor.

Sitting in the sun on the beach is even more enjoyable when you get a text saying there are floods at home.
Cava is very cheap in Spain.
A measure of Vodka or Gin takes ten seconds to pour (fact).
The sun shines outside Ireland in September

So there you have it, I’m home and it’s barely stopped raining since I arrived. I’m slowly adjusting to having to cook and drink tea. Sadly I think I left my blogging mojo in Spain. I’m hoping it flies back soon, but if it’s got any sense it’ll stay there, learn Spanish and eat, drink and be merry on my behalf.

Here is a link via to the most amazing apartment I’ve ever stayed in. It had four bedrooms and was in a beautiful old building in the very centre of everything. Have a look and be jealous. I cannot recommend this apartment, it’s wonderful owner or Malaga highly enough.

I’ve never done a review in my life and sadly this is not a review nor was I paid for it. It is  just my way of letting you all know that this apartment and beautiful city exist and if you have any sense at all you will some day try to visit.

Photos as seen on