Monthly Archives: July 2016


Writer girl 

You can take girl away from the magazine but you can’t make her stop writing. 
I’ve got a massive creative surge going on right now and I’m trying to decide what to do with it. My business website is being redesigned, and apparently a WordPress update has sent the whole site into meltdown so it could be in maintenance for some time. 

For research, I started reading my Professional Beauty magazines and I really got the urge to write magazine features again. I used to love writing features… Finding stories, getting inside information, interviewing interesting people and getting things from different angles. I know it was just spa and salon magazines,  not anything heavyweight,  but I adored it. The whole process of putting a magazine together was just absorbing and I learned so much. 

Being freelance I do get to work on magazine features sometimes but most of my work is web copy and blogs. They have rules that features didn’t. SEO rules. Word count. Click bait. It’s a different ballgame. 

I still write for trade magazines, mainly health and social care but I yearn to write something meaty and dare I say glamorous?  I want to create a magazine of my own one day, online if I have to, but indulge my writer girl habit in interviews and actually finding out interesting things that people might not know. 

I’m also getting urges to get more artsy and creative with pictures, photos and design. 

I suppose the best thing about being freelance is that I get to do whatever I want with my business. Watch this space… 


Happy Birthday Dad



It would have been Dad’s 75th birthday today.

It’s been almost a year since  we said goodbye to him, and I wanted to write something, but rather than wait  the anniversary of the day he died, I  wanted to celebrate his life, on the anniversary of the day he was born. It seems so much nicer. So here’s my birthday letter to my Dad…

Dad, its not the same without you . I still think of the house in Ipswich  as ‘Mum and Dad’s’ and I catch myself saying it out loud sometimes too. Mum has a cracking picture of you on the landing, your eyes seem to follow me around the room and you have a knowing smile on your face. Mum says that sometimes  if she has a bad day and she’s looking at  the photo, she tells you to stop smirking. I thought that might make you laugh.

I know you believed in Jesus and heaven, and that  you had faith you’d end up there eventually. I remember you being quite impatient to go there, this time last year. I hope you found your heaven. I hope you’re enjoying yourself,  swapping anecdotes with Terry Wogan, Victoria Wood and Caroline Aherne. I think you might be a bit wary of David Bowie and Prince though -but I’m sure they’re lovely.

I’m sure I can feel you around sometimes. Often if I’m upset or frustrated I can imagine you giving me that look, the one that meant you really wanted to tell me what to do, but thought better of it. I think to myself, ‘I wonder what Dad would say’, when I’m stuck. I think about you  whenever I see a robin – they seem to show up a lot. Remember your last Christmas when you decided to collect just about every Christmas robin ornament you came across and put it somewhere in your room? You proudly showed off your little collection when you came home from the hospice and it was just the two of us, and we had a laugh at  the daftness of it all.

I’ll always be glad I had that week with you. I did my best to spoil you, and you were on good form that week. I’m very glad you decided not to drive again though. That drive back from the garden centre was a bit of a white knuckle ride!

I hope you’ll be proud of what I’ve achieved this year…it’s not been the easiest year but the setbacks have just made me more determined. You said that I should stand up for myself more, and that I could have a lovely life if I stopped doing what everyone else wanted me to. I’m working on my people pleasing. Officially a work in progress. If you’re watching over us, you’ll  also know that me and Moley could do with a hand sometimes, too. It’s not been plain sailing this year…is it ever?

I miss you every day, Dad, we all do. Jenny bought you a present from the garden centre for Father’s day, Mum is taking flowers to church to remember you on your birthday. I’ll be thinking of you, and smiling at good memories. You in that Fez, doing magic tricks badly. I’ve still got that Fez.

Dad's fez

Remember the Christmas parties where you insisted we all had to dress up? The gleeful way you joined forces with Andy B to annoy me and Mum with Barron Knights songs? Playing the Stylophone with me (Mum found that in the loft the other day, shame about the whole Rolf Harris thing)

I could go on and on. As time passes, more little memories pop up. I wish you were here today, wanting everyone around you and to be centre of attention on your birthday.I wish I could give you one more daft card and a nice pressie, and go out for dinner with you and Mum to celebrate. I know we’d end up at the Westerfield Railway, and you’d probably have the belly pork. With a glass of something alcoholic, seeing as it was your birthday.

So I’ll raise a glass to you today, Dad, on your birthday. Love you, miss you. Happy Birthday








Monday- it’s a bit warm


I’m off to sunny Diss in Norfolk today, to talk to a potential new client. It’s always good to get new clients on a Monday, it sets you up for the week. I’m in a good mood today, despite being hot and bothered, and dreaming that I had slugs growing up my nose last night. The dream was so hideous that I decided to stay awake and lose at Yahtzee on my phone instead of trying to go back to sleep. 

So here I am, in the sunshine,  waiting for the   10.24, eavesdropping and wondering when the young couple sitting on the bench next to me will realise that their  baby has done a  monumentally smelly poo in his nappy. Because I’ve  noticed. As has probably everyone else on the station. Please don’t sit too close to me on the train. I don’t deserve that. I’m a good person.

The pooey nappy reminds me of  a story I heard about a dopey  mum of a five  year old who when she was asked why the child was still on nappies, replied “she’s shown no interest in her potty! ”

She probably thinks it’s an ornament. Sit her on the thing until the poo is forthcoming and she’ll soon get the picture. Poor baby will get mercilessly teased wearing nappies when she starts school. Like I was when I wet myself in the playground because a few girls were holding me down and tickling me to see what happened. I had to wear navy blue knickers from the lost property. I was only about six and I knew the true meaning of humiliation already.

Anyway, off I go to Diss to seek my fortune. Fingers crossed smelly nappy baby sits at the other end of the train and my negotiations go according to plan. Have a nice Monday!