A little about me:

I was born in the UK and went to university close to home. In my first term I met my American citizen husband. What was in all likelihood going to be a 5-month fling with the possibility of a lasting Facebook friendship (though there was no Facebook back then – can you imagine?) instead somehow blossomed into a committed long-distance relationship and then marriage. I moved to the States upon graduation (after waiting a few months for a visa) and lived in the States from 2006 to 2012 when we moved back to the UK, accompanied this time by M (who was then 2 years old) and our dog Mr. Barker (not his real name – I really am one for aliases). Incidentally, Mr. Barker’s plane ticket cost more than a human one, but I couldn’t bear to leave him behind. He was a rescue dog and I believe that a dog is for life, even if life takes you back across the Atlantic Ocean. I think my husband might have left the dog behind, had he been given a choice in the matter (which he wasn’t). I am sure my husband often wakes up on a Sunday (or any day) and wonders how his absent-minded, semi-positive response when I mentioned that it might be an idea if we possibly bought a house somehow metamorphosed into a mortgage (alas now left behind in the States – we won’t get a garden like that again here in the UK but c’est la vie), a dog, two babies, and relocating from the sunny mountain West to a dodgy seaside town in Blighty.

Such is life. I do not have it all figured out. At all. But I have figured out that I don’t need to have it figured out. I reckon my mum didn’t have it all figured out at my age either, but as a kid I thought she did. I like this quote from the NY Times: “There are no grown-ups. We suspect this when we are younger, but can confirm it only once we are the ones writing books and attending parent-teacher conferences. Everyone is winging it, some just do it more confidently.” That article was written about being in your 40s; I am barely into my 30s but have definitely learned that lesson already. I certainly don’t feel like a grown-up, though my (overseas) mortgage, MA degree (supposed to be a PhD but life, relocation, and re-assessment of life goals got in the way), husband of eight years, and (shared) responsibility for two little people would indicate otherwise.

In the interests of full disclosure: I consider myself a feminist (I claim that title proudly though I wouldn’t presume to offer a definition – five years of post-graduate study makes me wary of claiming labels). I also consider myself to be left-wing.

I tend to think too much and to speak without thinking. I am (relatively) highly educated but often come off as a) naive and b) lacking in common sense. I like to think that this is on purpose and that it might be interpreted as endearing. In reality I think it stems from the fact that I let slip my thoughts before they are fully formed. Like when I offered the answer of “the USA” to my brother’s question of “who did Britain fight in the Falklands War?” My muted protest that of course I didn’t really think that it was the USA was drowned out by my husband’s incredulous “you studied American History for five years and got us in X amount of debt and you think Britain fought the USA in the Falklands War?!?!?!???” (For the record, I in no way think that Britain fought the USA in the Falklands War).

But enough about me. The main things you need to know are: I am British. I lived in America for a while. This made me jealous of some things about America (big houses/gardens; excellent swimming pools) but glad to be back in Britain for other reasons (no guns; presence of extended family). I haven’t got my career figured out but I have high hopes for the future. I have two little boys and a dog and a very lovely husband. The dog definitely doesn’t come before the husband. And I like to write. Hence the blog.



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