It’s been a long (almost) six months but finally – finally! – the children have gone back to school. And just like that the house is quiet.
Yup, still January. But there have been highlights: I got to hold a copy of my new (old) book, the updated Knackered Mother’s Wine Guide, in my hands for the first time.
Right, two things. Firstly, thank you SO much for all the lovely comments on last week’s blog post. I know there was an incentive (free wine!) but seriously, they were a real joy to read.
Actually it was all morning, tasting a line up of rosé wines made by celebrities on This Morning. I had to really concentrate, not least because all I really wanted to ask was where presenter Rochelle Humes got her dress from (Ganni, I looked it up afterwards).
And so finally – finally! – my kids have broken up for the summer holidays. After what felt like weeks of end of term celebrations, we headed to the beach after their last day.
Grief is a funny thing. As in peculiar rather than ha ha, obviously. Seventeen years ago my brother died. I remember, a few years after, googling the five stages of grief.
Earlier this week I celebrated a birthday with a round of French 75s, a hot bath and an eye mask. I know, hardly rock &
Honestly, I never used to get the whole self-care thing. In my twenties, I was too busy. In my thirties, too tired.
So all my presents are bought, wrapped and ready to go. Cards have been written. Homemade mince pies are stashed in the freezer.
Not that we really need an excuse to open a bottle of something pink and sparkly but at least on Valentine’s Day we don’t even have to make one up.