Reflections on high school


Reflections on High SchoolI remember feeling ostracised and lonely at my all girls high school. But when I look back, there was no reason for me to feel that way. I had a group of supportive girlfriends and one particular tight-knit friendship. I might have felt on the outer, because every teenage girl feels that way sometimes, but it wasn’t my true orientation. I never ate my lunch alone. I never dreaded going to school. I never begged my parents to send me somewhere else. Any dramas were completely internal and of my own making. Is there anything a teenage girl seeks more voraciously than drama?

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Your guide to spotting mums on a night out

The past few weeks have been a bit of a blur. Things have been FULL ON. Amongst all the busy, there have been a lot of nights out. Many of them with other mums.

Mums Night Out

No one parties quite like a mum on a night off. Chances to dress up, drink and dance are limited. I like to make the most of them. But things aren’t quite what they used to be.

Here are some sure fire signs it’s a mum (with little kids) on a night out:

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Culinary disasters of the baking kind

culinary disasters of the banking kind

A little while back the insanely talented, terribly funny, not so great at baking, and hard to track down at conferences, Hugzilla shared this story of baking gone wrong – The Fine Art of Murdering Simple Recipes.

I imagine most people read that post and basked in the comparative glory of their domestic diety.

I read it and thought “thank goodness it’s not just me”.

My culinary skills are likewise limited. But I do try.

In the spirit of making other baking impaired people feel better, and amusing those who manage, I thought I’d share my latest misadventure.

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My creative childhood

My creative childhoodWhen I was very young, I desperately wanted a secret keyper.

Specifically, I was quite taken with Sheldon, a plastic jewellery box in the shape of a turtle. You could keep all your trinkets in his shell, replete with a lock. If you are of a certain age, you might remember the ad. My parents where not so keen on buying me Sheldon. Undeterred, I set about making my own. A strawberry punnet, an empty toilet roll, some glitter, stickers and a small lock and key (purloined from my tiny diary) were fashioned into something approximating Sheldon. And I loved that thing.

My husband thinks this is a sad story. I think it’s a great reflection of childhood imagination and innovation.

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