Writer, blogger, bookworm, obsessed with Stranger Things and GoT and fan of all things odd
To give you an idea of who you're dealing with I am a wife of one, mother of two and like Russell Crowe's Gladiator - I will have my vengeance, in this life or the next!
I don't have pets unless you count the husband.
My Dances with Wolves names are #ChaseofChildren and #SnifferofBooks
If you're reading this; so, you're the one!
For instance, as is so often the case in the morning when I'm hustling the kids to hurry with breakfast whilst rummaging the drawers for the correct piece of cutlery to stir my tea, I transform into Neo from the <em>Matrix </em>and start muttering #ThereIsNoSpoon before checking that Morpheus isn't about to approach to test my Kung Fu knowledge.
There is no dress rehearsal for grief. As a dog happily buries a bone, my mind concealed the trauma of sudden bereavement. It wrapped the details in that oh so satisfying to pop bubble wrap and then deftly popped up a flat packed cardboard box, secured it with a liberal application of fragile tape, to be shelved somewhere at the back of my mind with the VHS tapes marked 'DO NOT TAPE OVER'.
The trouble with the legal sector is that, even in this modern age, most people conjure to mind a stuffy belt and braces type with a penchant for pocket watches sat behind a monstrosity of a desk, on top of which lurks an avalanche of title deeds that wouldn't look dissimilar to the artefacts Indiana Jones would unearth on some dubious crusade.
Strangely it's the chronic tiredness due to fibromyalgia that gets me down the most. Whether you've heard of it or acknowledge it as a genuine condition is up to you. To be honest I hadn't heard of it until the doctors started banding the term about. If I could sum up the fatigue simply, it'd be in a remake of the Funny Bones book: under a dark dark duvet, lay a tired tired mummy.
I don't know when it happened, but at some point I went from a 20+ something belting out one of Blur's greatest hits with an oversized pint as they closed Glastonbury, to a 30+ something wedged halfway down a Little Tykes slide!
Apparently, depression isn't real, or so we're led to believe, or at best it's just a trumped up version of melancholy for society's weakest to band about as a modern day 'bad back' disclaimer, some Monopoly get out of jail free card we can swipe at our employers, as though we're waiting in line at the self service, to tap them up for a couple of extra days at home each year when we're having a 'woe is me day' (one of my favourite derogatory terms I've had personally applied).
Let me take you on a journey, to a time before GHDs, when curtains and blond tips were all the rage for boys and Sister Unella wouldn't cry out 'shame' behind you if you donned a scrunchie. When crimping was 'in' and it was de rigueur to style yourself on Madonna's 80s look.
12/09/2017 10:51 BST
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