Once upon a time, I had a lovely novel rejected (in fact I’ve had multiple novels rejected more than once at several times, but that’s not important right now). This novel had got me an agent. It had got me a lunch with an editor (Pizza Express, no less, and
It’s two o’clock in the morning on Christmas Eve. Everyone around me is sleeping. The house is full to bursting – even the kitchen has been commandeered as an extra bedroom – and our final guests will arrive this afternoon. I’ve been woken up by fear that I’ll forget to
It’s the last Sunday of Advent. Here at Christmas Central, we’re expecting another tranche of relatives, plus my niecepup (‘No, mummy, she’s our cousinpup!’), a small energetic Jack Russell with a face that always looks like she’s smiling. The small peoplecousins aren’t familiar with dogs and things aren’t straightforward between
There are people we love and yet cannot be there for, because to be there for them involves hurting ourselves. If love could be turned on and off, life would be easier, for we could instantly stop loving the people who hurt us. But at some point, we have to
Family, family, family, family. Will of the people, will of the people. BANG ouch BANG ouch BANG ouch. It’s a tough time. As I write this, Gatwick airport is still closed due to drone activity. Parliament is more concerned about whether Jeremy Corbyn did or did not call Theresa May
Christmas this year is being brought to our house mostly by John Lewis, the internet and a collection of historically dysfunctional family relationships. I’m on first name terms with at least three of the staff in our local Waitrose, so regularly am I collecting parcels. We have a house even
Day 19 And the final one of my ten new commandments is simply this – thou shalt smash the patriarchy. By gendering God, we set half of humanity above the other half. We place power and agency in the hands of one half of humanity, and nurture and care
Day 18 Someone, long ago, took me aside and described, earnestly, repeatedly and at great lengths, the horrors that had been heaped upon them when they were a child. This, they told me, is why they could not control their temper. Why I should never take their violent outbursts
Day 17 As a Habitually Invisible Woman, I find myself constantly amazed by the degree to which I’m reflected in media representations of the season. Capable Mother, organising excited children and hapless husband, supported by the big supermarkets and corporations which understand her pursuit of the Perfect Christmas better
Day 16 A couple of years ago, we had a Christmas craft party in the local village hall. I took my sewing machine and some dried lavender, and some blank canvas tote bags and fabric paints, and chocolate truffle mixture ready to be rolled in coloured sprinkles, and some