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notes from underneath the table

July 1, 2017July 1, 2017

Notes, from underneath the leaves in the Midlands.

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June 17, 2017June 17, 2017

The Art Of Growing Up

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March 25, 2017March 25, 2017

Deadlines For Decisions

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March 6, 2017March 6, 2017

The Blume of Blooms

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January 12, 2017January 12, 2017

Self Loathing And Other Stories

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November 28, 2016November 28, 2016

It Was Less Than Ideal, But Then We Found Something New

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November 12, 2016

Eight Minutes.

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November 11, 2016November 11, 2016

Nature is like that.

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September 3, 2016September 3, 2016

Magic and Other Mumbles

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August 20, 2016August 20, 2016

The Chefs Table

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  • Notes, from underneath the leaves in the Midlands.

     Over the years, people have quizzically asked me why this blog has always included a reference to being from “underneath the table.” It’s taken on many forms, over time, as sometimes I’m writing from underneath the table of a whole life, or from underneath the table of parenting, ...

  • The Art Of Growing Up

     Twelve You are turning twelve. Did you know? Twelve is my absolute favourite number. Perhaps it’s the combination of 1+2, and the fact that the number itself is a multiple of 3…there’s just something about it that’s always remained important to me. About a week before you were ...

  • The Blume of Blooms

     If you grew up in the decade before, during, or after, I did, you’ll know this book. Maybe you read it, maybe you didn’t – it was, back then, very much “a book for girls” (what rubbish, but anyway…even ‘the boys’ knew about it) and I have strong, ...

  • Deadlines For Decisions

     In our house, the worst question you can ask anyone is: “What would you like to eat?” We will share memes about it, laugh about our own inabilities to make an actual choice and then, of course, opt for the usual favourites that are certain to bring a ...

  • Self Loathing And Other Stories

     Hi. Yes, this is awkward. I’ve been cheating on you a bit and writing over here, every now and then. Sorry about that. I suspect, much like many others, that I’ve puddled myself into guilt and self loathing over my own words, thereby shying away from here, because ...
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