Why I still believe in Santa Claus

Why I still believe in Santa

We always have a few children’s CDs in the car and the boys’ current favourite is Puff the Magic Dragon. They adore that it’s a song about a dragon and can’t understand why the last verse always leaves me undone …

Dragons live forever but not so little boys
Painted wings and giant strings make way for other toys.
One sad night it happened, Jackie Paper came no more
And Puff that mighty dragon, he ceased his fearless roar.

His head was bent in sorrow, green scales fell like rain, 
Puff no longer went to play along the cherry lane.
Without his life-long friend, puff could not be brave, 
So Puff that mighty dragon sadly slipped into his cave. oh! 

My tears never fail to fall along with Puff’s scales. The loss of childhood innocence, the end of magic and the absence of belief always leaves me heart broken.

I want it last forever – the childhood faith that impossible things happen every day and that our ordinary lives are sprinkled with magic. That the world is people with fairytale characters that leave money for teeth, chocolate at Easter and presents at Christmas. I still believe in Santa Claus. Read more

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.

Read more

The Evolution of Mummy

the evolution of motherhoodA group of bewildered young woman are sitting together in a coffee shop in a shopping centre. They are new friends – their babies born within a few weeks of each other. Some of those babies are asleep in the humongous prams their mothers are only just learning to drive. Others are cuddled peacefully in laps. Yet others are being fed. Those breastfeeding are anxiously looking around to ensure that they are not embarrassing themselves or anyone around them. Those bottle-feeding are hoping desperately that no-one is going to judge them. And they ask each other the rhetorical question all new mother’s ask: “Did you think it was going to be this hard?”  Read more