Inappropriate laughter

This is a short one, because my eyeballs have assumed the role of a slot machine, periodically rolling back into my head expecting to toss out a matching pair of cherries. I can’t seem to stay awake past 9.30 most nights. So, it being close to midnight means that I’m on the cusp of delirium. Continue reading

One hundred years of solitude

With Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s passing late last night, a memory. I open an old copy of One hundred years of solitude and find something unexpected. A note written in my handwriting, addressed to Ben. I gave him this book a few months after we got together. At the time, I didn’t realise how prescient an act that was. Continue reading

Two years old

 

Today is my anniversary. Exactly two years ago today, I started writing this blog. Back then, I was desperate and in despair. Rosie was a mere 3 3/4 years old. What she knew of her dad was that he had been suffering from an unidentified illness all her life. Continue reading

“I don’t want a new mummy”

Today is Mother’s Day in the UK. (c) Millennium Images/Superstock

One night, lying in bed, saying goodnight to Rosie. Ben is there, too. We’re all squashed in, listening to a recording of Alan Bennett reading Winnie the Pooh, when Rosie says: “What happens if you get married again, Daddy?” Continue reading