Catching Frogs at Twighlight

It's what we do. 

Bear.

Sometimes only a polar bear will cheer you up. 

By Olga Gladysheva 

The thing is, I was all cheered up, life was looking good for a while there. My kids had stopped driving me mental and started being awesome, the weather had stopped squeezing my body from all sides, the plague on my digestive system had passed and N's collarbone was given the all clear from the hospital. He was back on his bike and I joined the gym and we were both getting fit (which ohmygod, about time). I cut my hair and bought new shoes, my best lady came to visit and then my mum too and we had a lovely lovely time. We started planning a trip by ourselves (NO CHILDREN) and then a trip with them too. Then life went a bit ugh. And it got kind of hard to enjoy any of that stuff again. But I guess that's how it goes. Life man. What's the deal? Why you got to be such a pain in the arse? Can't you just, like, be easy? Srsly. 

(I keep intending to write one of those happy, grateful (American) posts, about how great life is and how many good things are happening. Because it is, and they are, but I sit down to write and all that comes out is despair and faeces. Sorry about that.) 

"Susie, is that a poo in your pocket?"

We watched this last night. Are all dog owners a little bit tragic? Or just London dog owners? Or just the ones on Hampstead Heath?


(I'm aware that the answer is more likely 'just the ones picked for the program, but still, it raised some interesting questions in our house about people who have/love dogs. Opinions? Also, did you watch it? Who was your favourite dog owner? Personally I have a soft spot for the woman with the poo in her pocket. And the guy who looked after his father with Alzheimers for 5 years.) 

* photo by Jamie Street, aka A Desert Fete

two years ago today.

Looking back at the photos all I can remember about this day two years ago is that Nye and I had a huge fight about turtle sex in the middle of Central Park. And that I felt so sick. I was 10 weeks pregnant. 

Helen Fay

 

Last week I found myself in the city centre with the girlies. We'd been at the bank pretending to be grown ups. Instead of getting the train home  we went for a walk and before long I found myself passing a gallery, not one of those family friendly ones with crayons and interactive displays, a trendy gallery. It was empty. Looking in the window I was immediately drawn in by the (frankly amazing) photography exhibition and when we were done with that we wondered next door into the connecting print studio. Looking through the racks of prints thinking maybe I would find one for our house (ha! Maybe if I sold a kidney. Or a baby.) I came across these prints by Helen Fay and I could not stop coming back to them. In theory you wouldn't think that prints of dogs and penguins shouldn't be much more than 'kind of cute' and then passed over for something a little grittier, but these penguins and dogs really grabbed me. There's something so moving about them, so soulful. There's nobility and strength and perseverance; solitude, struggle, dignity. For reals.  The Glasgow Print Studio only had a couple of pictures but when I came home and looked up Helen Fay's website, her etchings of apes and monkeys quite literally made a lump rise in my throat. How can they be so emotive? I don't understand. All I know is that they might just be worth selling a kidney for. Any takers?

 

 

All images copyright of and reproduced with the permission of Helen Fay

Because...

...I want a dog (any dog, even a stupid one) and it's nice to be reminded of a day when my head wasn't full of snot nor were my boobs inexplicably damp.

A little something from the day after the wedding, when The Boy and I got all dressed up and went to play in the gardens.

Photo by The Boy