Britmums Live 2014


This morning I got three children off to school, sorted out the dishes, children’s clothes were packed for the weekend, my case and laptop were ready. I felt a slight nervous excitement at bringing this all together but at the same time I knew in the back of my mind I could do it, my partner keeps telling me ‘you can do this’ when I hit the often times frequent periods of self doubt. Last night I painted my nails, very bright multi colours. Not because I am particularly worried about these kinds of things, but so that it may possibly be a starting point for conversation in a place I was going where I would know nobody.

Last month I spoke at a conference at the Royal Institution, and I already knew even before that that something was missing from my seemingly already full life. I write a regular column, I blog not as much as I think I should, but I enjoy it. On the way to the conference I realised that I NEEDED to go on trains to big cities, preferably London. Yes this sounds trivial but you know what I don’t care. Everything in my life matters, I have scant time for trivia. Reading the book E squared about cosmic ordering things, from my cynical point of view, (surely that stuff doesn’t work?) I decided to ask the universe for more train trips to London. On the train, as a friend put it, I could ‘drink coffee with an air of self importance’. I asked, the opportunity has arisen twice in two months. Long may this continue!

So this is my little goal for the next year. I realised that if you don’t promise yourself to do things, they more often than not don’t happen. So a couple of years ago I decided to start telling people I was a writer, got business cards for myself that said ‘writer, blogger, journalist’ on them, and it became a self fulfilling prophecy. I got offered regular work off the back of my twitter stream, you can try to work out why at

I am sitting right now in an amazing venue in London at the Britmums Live conference, having been showered with goodies by companies, had interesting conversations which proved to myself that I do know what I am talking about (unless it is to my teenagers, teenagers know EVERYTHING), plenty of opportunities to be had and connections to be made.

I am already looking at opportunities for train journeys next month!


What are you wearing to BritMums live? Erm…clothes!


I love clothes, have a wardrobe that has just a few too many things crammed into it, lots of pattern, colour, an increasing amount of animal prints in bright colours. Attempts to organise my wardrobe have sections ranging from black, multi-coloured, grey to silver, peachy tones, greens, not a lot of blue, reds. I have enough shoes to make the box room next to my bedroom look like a shoe shop, complete with shelves. As dancing is one of my hobbies I have some more swishy, dance friendly, often sparkly clothes for dancing in.

I have to admit, however, that there was a raising of eyebrows when I received my email update about the happenings at the conference. I felt excited as the event really is not that far away now. But seriously, asking what I am going to wear? Were it a Dads blogging conference would they be lining up to tell the world what they will be wearing? I thought about not blogging and instead fashion trolling (is that a thing, if not I stake my claim!) and I would attend the conference in what could only be described as a fashion car crash, and see where it took me.

I’m me whatever I wear. You will not see me in a hospital gown having a scan, dressed all in black at a funeral, naked birthing a baby, in my dressing gown at 3am after a restless night and finally giving up on sleep, in lurid neon gym clothes, but all those versions of me will be there. The girl whose mum always insisted she look ‘just right’, the awkward teen in the nasty Saturday job uniform. I’m bringing quite a little crowd with me.

Of course the ‘what are you wearing’ is a light-hearted bit of fun, but a big part of me wants to be taken seriously about what I write, not to have peoples’ opinions and thoughts about me, or any other women, to stop at ‘ooh she looks pretty/smart/awful’ (delete as applicable). Isn’t that sadly what happens so often to women, we have lived, survived, achieved, created, but so much is still about how we look.