So much to do, so little time...

Life is getting in the way of blogging right now so am on a blogging break.

Be back soon!

image credit: sensationalcolor.com

Silent Sunday

Reasons to be Cheerful wk22

Thursday is #R2BC day, and much like Mich at Mummy from the Heart, I was struggling to come up with reasons. I have also been feeling like blogging has not been high on the list of priorities of late.



That is actually one of my reasons this week, the fact that, for the first time, I haven't been stressing about the consequences of not blogging very much the past week or so. I'm putting it down to the fantastic weather last week, just being out and about more and so i've not had the same opportunities or inclination to sit and blog. And rather than worry about stats and pageviews, etc, I've not. I've thought, so what? What will happen? Nothing. Nowt. Nada. Niet. Rien.

And I put that attitude partly down to trying to follow some of the 'teachings' (don't like that word, too formal, but can't think of a better one) of F**k It.

Describing itself as "the ultimate spiritual way, ... without the sandals", being a F**kiteer is about letting go of the little things and about the things over which we have no control. Check it out, don't be put off by the title (the more you see/say it, the less offensive it becomes, which is the idea). And no, this is not a sponsored post or anything, just my own opinion. I went to a F**k It Away Day in March, which I always meant to post about, and worried about not posting about. And then I thought "f**k it". Oh, it works!

Another R2BC for me this week is that I've just booked a wee holiday in July for B and I to go to York for a few days. Not only that, but we've got company this time, for both B and I, so lots of fun to be had for mummies and kids! It may not be a 2 week break on some sun-kissed island, but it'll do for us. Next stop, the Railway Museum! Just have to do some praying to the sun-gods to come back out.


For more R2BC, blog hop on over to Mich at Mummy from the Heart.

Silent Sunday - sluggish

Childhood memories

B's dad and I grew up in the same town, although we didn't know each other back then. It’s not too far away, only an hour or so from where we live now, and B's gran and papa (his dad's parents) and his other papa (my dad) and Auntie Angela both still live there. For one reason or another, I’ve not managed through more than a couple of times since Christmas (although B has been through more often with his dad), so I made a concerted effort to pay a visit this weekend past.

After the wet, cold and windy weather we’ve had the last few weeks, it was a welcome sight to see the sun peaking through and a trip to the local park was a-calling. The park is a few minutes’ walk away from where I grew up. I’ve been back to visit occasionally over the years, and it always evokes strong feelings of nostalgia and more innocent, uncomplicated times.

There have been some big changes to the park over the years. The play-park area is now transformed into a modern play-park with zip-wire, boat-shaped climbing frames, bendy/curvy slides, swings of all shapes, catering from the tiny tot up to the older kids. Back in my day, we loved the play-park. It was probably basic by today’s standards -  a few toddler and older swings, two roundabouts, a metal climbing ball-frame, and a double-chute. But we spent hours and hours there. It’s where I learned to swing by myself, where I worked out how high I could swing before the chains started shaking, realised how long I could last on the roundabout before I felt sick. And it’s where we would hang out as older kids, listening to our brand new ghetto-blaster (this was the 80s, afterall!).

The Animal Corner had changed, too. There used to be two peacocks who would strut and call out, louder than any of us could ever manage, no matter how hard we tried. Alongside them, there were a pair of sorry-looking foxes that used to pace back and forth in their enclosure, their pungent smell penetrating out beyond the little zoo. I can still recognise that smell nowadays, and it transports me immediately back to that park.  The foxes have long gone, thankfully, in their place interactive, indoor cages with insects, spiders, etc. But the peacocks are still there, their impressive cry ringing out, reminding me I'm home.

When I was B's age and older, the park's pond was the hub of activity both on and around it. The swans and ducks once fought for space with kids and adults in pedal-boats. Many hours were spent lying on the ground at the edge of the pond, dangling our brightly coloured fishing nets in, hunting for tadpoles. Now, the pedalos are long-gone, sadly, given up because of cost or vandalism or some other reason. It doesn’t matter, really. The swans are still there, though, and I bet in the summertime there are little kids searching for tadpoles, jumping up excitedly when they find one.

Even nondescript areas of grass brought back a strong nostalgic feeling this weekend, reminding me of long hot summer days * playing football, penalty shoot-outs. We really did use jumpers for goalposts.

(*I wondering if my memories are playing rose-tinted tricks on me, after all we’re talking about summer in Scotland. I’m not sure if many days could have been described as “long, hot”... then again, when you’re a kid, the weather is no obstacle!)

And a small door underneath the golf clubhouse building within the park still made the hairs on my neck stand up, taking me back to dusky evenings when we should have been out of the park, peaking at this eery little door and wondering what witches or goblins lived inside. I showed B where the witches used to live. He wasn’t quite sure, but didn’t want to hang about to find out.

Linking up with The EO's Just Write