I don’t often write about my little man, I guess I selfishly don’t really want to share him with the world.

I use my Facebook page to write down the funny things he has said. The time line means I know his exact age and time when he said it and at only three years old he has filled Facebook with a lot of love.

However, today this post is dedicated to the last 36hrs of our lives, as I never want to forget them. It began with a wonderful Brighton shopping trip with my amazing friend Lauren and my little man. We were being our usual silly selves when I saw my little man fall in love and knew (despite it not making any logical sense financially or practically) that we would have to buy the item. 

It was a large (adult size) fish hat. 

He wore it with pride and throughout the day many people from shop assistants to people in the street commented how amazing it was, how it glistened in the light with one lady in Topshop saying in brought out his eyes. On the drive home from Brighton he chatted happily to his hat and plastic crocodile (J never goes very far without a plastic croc) and he told me that he was thirsty. From the driving seat I quickly multitasked and handed him a  bottle of water and then got told off. It turned out that he wasn’t thirsty but that his fish hat was called Kirsty (you can see how my error was made). 

I welcomed Kirsty into our home and began a discussion with a giant fish hat about all the lovely things we’d have for dinner, questioning in my adult mind where the hell he had got the name from?It transpires that Kirsty doesn’t eat mash potato or chicken goujons – nor baked beans or yoghurt…Kirsty only eats little fishes and polo’s (where the hell he has come across polos I also haven’t a clue – I’m a soft mint chick) anyway we took Kirsty home to Daddy’s dismay.

Since then Kirsty has slept with J, been by his side as a constant companion and even compromised her desire for polos and ate some of Js Cheerios at breakfast. 

It turns out that Kirsty also (due to her hat hole) makes a very good hand bag. Whilst out for breakfast yesterday J noted that I have a very sparkly Clutch bag (life’s too short for practical black bags) and he has sparkly Kirsty. I showed him the content of my bag; lip gloss, purse, keys, phone and chewing gum and he showed me his contents; grubby muslin, plastic crocodile and a cuddly mouse. He then threw his ‘Kirsty’ under his arm pit and we strutted out of the restaurant, the way he mimicked how I hold my bag forever embedded in my memory.

Since the purchase of Kirsty (nobody dare call her a hat, the look you receive is deadly) she has bought much joy to all who meet her, I dare say she will be packed in his suitcase soon. I’m not sure how she will be received abroad? However, until she is cast aside Id like to thank her for reminding me that you can wear whatever you like if it makes you happy. For now though she sleeps closely by his side. 

Quote by Suzanne Collins 

*warning: I have chosen to use way too many analogies in this post (but they are fun)

As with most of what life throws at us, simplicity is usually the key to a content and happy existence. The journey can at times be tough and even when you expect your ticket to take you somewhere pleasant and glorious, a ticket inspector can force you off course and leave you stranded at the station of life that you hadn’t expected or would never chose to visit.

Now in my thirties there is still so much to learn about life, Im far from working it all out but like most of you in my age bracket you too may have been abandoned at a station you didn’t want to be at; sudden death in the family, platform 4 – long term illness, perhaps even a dark tunnel like mental health or experienced an interruption on the line from a miscarriage or conception issue. Lets be honest, the various stations of life can at times be crap.

However, something mystical happens and you find that from almost an invisible source, people find you in your darkest moments, for bloggers we can find it online from a member of the community we hadn’t before interacted with, family and friends can at times be like a first class carriage providing a nutritious meal when you need it most, or of course the escapism of a crisp glass of Sauvignon blanc. We all at times need first class service, camaraderie from our fellow passengers and wherever you are on your journey of life you’ll also need at times to get off at the next stop.

I’m a very lucky lady who appreciates her loved ones, has a good friendship circle and its riding the train in a lovely carriage with basic facilities on board – please note that you can’t journey well alone all of the time. You see despite all of the interactions that we have, however many siblings or children you have at home – at times you are alone. Every time you close your eyes, in your head its just you and whatever you chose to imagine. Make sure that its a place you are comfortable in, that self love means there is always warmth, that your interests have time to blossom.

It is only you that has walked in your shoes. It is only you that feels how you feel and sees the world as picturesque or bleak as your eyes allow. It is only you that can alter the carriage quality that you wish to travel in – if you are travelling with a companion and they are pulling you down to a place you are not happy in…it is you that has to let go of their hand.  If you were to tell the driver it’s time to alter the direction he was traveling in, he would laugh at you – to change your direction you may need to get off at the next station, check a map and reroute.

Wherever you are in your journey, I hope that it is a happy one and that if not you know that it is temporary and that the next station will offer what you require from discount tickets and financial abundance to better health or a child that sleeps. The different stops along our journey can also be fruitful and our journey is most productive when we don’t get swallowed by the dark tunnel – all tunnels come to an end at some point.

Quote by Marcus Tullius Cicero.

Firstly, Marcus (who wrote this quote) clearly had straight hair or he would have included GHDs.

I do have a large garden (it’s 160ft) and my book shelf is bursting rather nicely. I’m not sure I have everything but I know I’m up there with the blessed.

The garden is my workout, my canvas and my saviour at times, it can also be the biggest chore and hugely time consuming plus a money chomping machine.. At the moment the grass is freshly cut and the pots are looking charming so all is well in my garden. Its even a glorious sunny day, so Im under the gazebo writing – sounds idyllic and I guess it is.

The bookshelf is abundant with a cross over of novels and literature that spans the centuries, genres and tastes. Since taking on the challenge to read the top one hundred novels of all time it’s really expanding my reading range and opened my mind. Unlike a library I have this ridiculous need to own the books I’ve read – even crazier I like to purchase second hand books that have been preloved, so why I can’t share them after Ive owned them is completely ludicrous.

As child I loved to be read to, during my teens I appropriately hated to read and followed the rebellious crowd to hate the books we studied like Of Mice and Men and Over the Bridge in school, now working with teens on these books I can see the depth and enjoyment that earlier in my life had escaped me. That is something that my garden and a good book can do, the varied meaning they have can alter depending on what point in life you are at. My garden is place I invest time in and attempt to ‘keep on top of the weeds’ whilst to my three year old son its a giant playground of mud hills and places to find bugs.

Opening and closing the mind is the essence of what I’ve taken from this quote. Whilst books open my imagination and possibilities become endless they also allow me time away to escape and even allow my mind moments of still. Our garden allows peace, nature and solitude, whilst at other times is hosting friends and loved ones in vibrant gatherings of laughter and BBQ food. These two aspects of my life bring great joy and keep me grounded whether through simple beauty or escapism from what is often a demanding and frightening world.

To the British garden I raise my glass, lay back on the sun lounger and turn the pages of a new book but seriously straighteners are third on the list of having everything, right?