The morning after.


The morning after Christmas dawns

The tree bedecked with lights adorns.

But loved ones scuttled to their homes

No more the joy and laugher roams.

Only photos mark the place

And filial love and fun replace.


And yet, if I’m to answer true

My head is pounding, and I rue

The ceasless round of food and drink

I’ve got too old for this I think.


Not too old for joy, and hugs,

Not too old for cuddle bugs.

Love each moment with my kids

And their offspring and their vid’s.


But at my age I need to pause

Rest, recuperate from chores

Listen to the still clear vioce

That makes the inner me rejioce.

I am so blessed in all you see

I think old age is suiting me.


A Child’s Christmas gift.


My youngest daughter suffers dreadfully from insomnia. After a particularly difficult night last night, her five year old son realised mum had slept badly. Dragging herself out of bed she was confronted by her golden haired son in his reindeer onesie. Blue eyes gleaming he said, “ I found something nice for you.”

He proceeded to put on a Netflix video of a fireplace with Christmas music.

“Mummy, I want you to enjoy it,” he said.

This is all the more special as generally he’ll hog the TV (when dad’s not home) for his Wild Krats and Dino Train programs. I think we have a “Christmas angel”.

The greatest gift.


The greatest gift to be a mum,
(though often set with thorns.)
The gift of bringing tiny life
That later earth adorns.
Just like the acorn, watch them grow,
We know not what they’ll be
But all our love we freely pour
And later set them free.
We have to trust they’ll stay in touch,
They’ll take the time to love.
To care for us when we grow old
And tell us with a hug.

Following this advice…


Following this advice I’m sorry to have been neglecting my blog/reader. My daughter and grand daughter are visiting from S E Asia triggering lots of family meet ups etc. My negligence will probably become worse when I fly back with them for two weeks in Malaysia to enjoy Chinese new year celebrations together, but… I’m hoping after that to be back at my laptop with lots of exciting photos to share.
Hope you are all likewise enjoying life, be it fast and adventurous or slow paced and tranquil (it’s all good!) Love to you all!

All excited.


See you all in a couple of weeks. Tomorrow my friend and I are off to Barcelona for 10 days courtesy of my wonderful kids who gave me a surprise birthday gift of tickets for two and some spending money anywhere in Europe back in August. After some delays (ruling out the more beach type venues) we settled on Barcelona. I’ve wanted to see the wonderful architecture there since my college days (and it does have beaches so I’ll still see the sea.) I’m hopping with excitement!

Time travel.


My memory files are old, the draws rusted, hard to extract. The pages themselves abound with moth-holes.

Yet sometimes a picture, music, smell or sensation unlocks a door and I find myself in a past time, basking in its warm glow. I remember how it felt to be a child, a teenager, new mother, my first taste of the orient etc. etc. Sweet feelings overwhelm me and for a few blissful moments I taste the past again.

Like the hedgehog, as I gaze I’m back. Me and my sister, peering, noses cold against the window, all a hush as a dark, prickly shape appears, hesitantly nearing the saucer of milk my mother set out every night. I remember the cold of the kitchen, but the warmth of our hearts, my mother’s soft smile – she helped more than hedgehogs.  The tiny creature lapping eagerly outside our door was our shared secret.