I’m 50 later this year. I’ve spent about forty plus of those fifty years knowing I can’t sing and being embarrassed to sing where anyone can hear AQ me. It started at junior school when everyone was in choir and I was asked to mime my words. That devastating blow to my self-confidence and shame about my voice has been with me my whole life. I never do karaoke, I mime at gigs and on the odd occasion I do sing out loud I become mortified by any funny look I perceive heading in my direction. And on those occasions I’m asked to ‘shhhh’ I’m traumatized for days.

This last year I have been a bit more ‘to hell with it’. After all singing is good for the soul.  We should all be able to sing and dance as if no-one is watching or listening. There are only a few places and occasions I just get on with singing but my self-consciousness and knowledge of being terrible at it do haunt me.

But. And to me it’s a massive ‘but’. Hubby has taken literally my comment at the beginning of 2017 when I stated that this was my fiftieth birthday YEAR!!! I’ve been receiving ad-hoc gifts throughout. ( I know, I’m a very lucky girl)

Today though I got a gift that has terrified me

A mystery envelope

This was inside…..

O M G !!!!!


Do I laugh? Do I cry? Do I hide myself away in shame? How will I cope with the embarrassment? What if she visible cringes?

Hubby says ‘think how magic it would be if you could learn to sing and felt comfortable joining in”.

I’ll do it. But it’s going to be the most embarrassing and frightening thing I’ve done since… I don’t even know when. I’m 50 nearly. I should try things that scare me….

But what if I’m a lost cause? I’ll be mortified. It’s terrifying!  And poor Mrs Galletta!….

So what is it you have a hang up about? Or don’t you?  Come on, share. Make me feel less freaked…..

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The Illusion of time…


The earth rotates through light and dark; seasonal changes; constellations come and go from our skies. We make sense of this movement by dividing it into chunks: years, seasons, months, weeks, days and nights, hours, minutes, seconds. Man-made constructs to conform our lives and inter-react across homes, towns, countries, continents.  We can measure the generations; relate to our ancestors; make sense of centuries and even discuss in terms of millenia.

It’s the most fundamental level of conformism that we all participate in.  Imagine the chaos if we all did our own thing..

Anyway the whole point of this is that I just had several family birthdays to contend with.  It’s all very inconvenient because they all fall in the same month , in fact, in the same fortnight and right on top of the busiest time of my year and far too close to the celebrations called Christmas.  Maybe we should just move them to a more convenient time?!

Anyway.  My son reached 18 earth years and I reached the unwelcoming number 48.  That amounts to (roughly) 17,520 days or 420,480 hours. I wonder how many of those I have wasted?  I prefer to think there were all of value.

What is interesting is how some of those hours seemed to pass more quickly than others.  Some of those summers raced by. Some of those seasons went on for an eternity. Some of those memories seem to have been eons ago others only days.  How can it be 18 years (6570 days) since my son was born? It seems to have gone so fast.  How can we have only have lived in Wales 11 years?  It feels like a whole lifetime.

It’s a man-made construct but its far from linear, it bends and stretches, slides and folds. We might be able to measure it but we still have no control over it.

We measure our lives in years; for me, so far , that’ll be forty-eight of them.

My husband pointed out to me that if I was on Mars I’d only be twenty-four.  Sometimes life is so strange I think that everyone must be from another planet.  Maybe it’s me.  So, I think I’ll go with that.  I officially declare myself a 24-year-old Martian.  Happy Birthday to me.  I’ll be celebrating my 25th in two of your earth years.

MOMENTOUS: “of great importance or significance, especially in having a bearing on future events”

9th November , 1997, 5:23am

The moment in my life that my little world became perfect.  That single most point in time when life affirming joy was , quite literally, handed to me.

The moment my first and my only son was handed to me, wrapped in a crisp white hospital blanket, and for the first time I looked into his eyes and our souls entwined forever.

Nothing prepares you for the heart swelling joy of that single most uplifting moment.  The infinite expanse of love and wellbeing; pride and responsibility; growth and achievement.  The single most, perfect moment

All sounds a bit OTT and gushy if you’ve never been there – I bet most of the women out there with kids will recognise it.

There are so many moments in my life that my heart has swelled with joy, happiness and pride, it’s a wonder it hasn’t burst from my chest.

Today is another one.  18 years old.  I look at him and I smile, and my heart swells a little more and I think “I did good”…….

They say its your Birthday

i was trying to remember how i selected his first outfit and dressing him in it - but i can't - i do however,notice its cars...
I was trying to remember how I selected his first outfit and dressing him in it – but I can’t – I do however,notice it’s cars…
Having a pint with his dad
Having a pint with his dad


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