It’s taken a seismic shift chez nous to bring back the Last Word blog. Recent cataclysmic events have nothing to do with the titanic forces of colliding tectonic plates, earthquakes, extreme weather, critical illness or bereavement, but we’re experiencing some serious shit. Or at least, I am. And all because our boy has become a
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Tag Archives: family
It all began with a blackbird singing in the dead of night. Last night, to be exact. Not content with living through the disruption caused by the biggest global crisis known in my lifetime, my menopausal combustion engine is firing on all cylinders, causing restless, energy-sapping, sweat-drenched sleep. And so it was at 3.05am in the deep, dark night
There’s not a single ounce of hippy in this auld rude girl’s DNA, but recently a Zen-like state of calm has descended over a psyche which has been rather prone to turbulent tendencies. This emotional equilibrium joins a diverse psychological CV, and although composure is certainly not always present, there’s been a noticeable shift away from stormy waters.
Most of the Word Up year is spent in a heid birlin’, plate spinning, perpetual motion state. If Word Up’s working life was animated, it would give cartoon legend the Road Runner a sprint for his small business money. Admittedly, there’s no Wily E. Coyote hot on my heels, but much of my self-employed existence is
Once more unto the small business breach, dear friends. The sun has set on Word Up’s annual summer sojourn. And amazingly, for a Scottish staycation, there was actually some sun. For two whole days. But not in a row, dinnae be daft. Annoyingly, given the desperate need for a break from the trials of entrepreneurial
Teachers need some education. And I’m not talking the 3 Rs. I’m talking talking. Please Miss, and Mister, gonnae no’ keep talking to parents like they are single celled amoeba. Gonna please not bother with the hectoring, the condescension, the superiority syndrome and the preachy patter. It’s not big, and it certainly ain’t clever coming
It swept over me this week. That sinking feeling. You know the kind, the gnawing sense that something’s really, really wrong. I’m not talking about losing the car keys or misplacing my specs, tho’ such activities may indeed occasionally upset the equilibrium of the Word Up world. No, I’m talking discombobulation, with bells on. But
Pop the corks, hang the bunting high and hoist the mainsail, it’s my birthday! Well, not my birthday, dear knows I’ve banged on enough about my recent half century coming of age – at this rate I’ll need to join the ranks of the right royal, and have an official birthday as well as one
It’s no laughing matter. Getting sick when you’re running your own business, that is. Touch wood, cross fingers and rub a rabbit’s foot but in the year since embarking on the insanity that is self-employment I have been tickety-boo healthwise. In fact, I have been feeling a whole lot better in body and mind since
A two tone life
Some of my best friends were people of colour. Now before you start raising your liberal eyebrows, this is not intended as an exercise in anti-racist virtue signalling, these words come from a middle-aged, middle class white woman who speaks as one who’s led a two tone life, right from the off. Colour, creed or race were never,