The common sermon aimed at new mothers is to eat a balanced diet, get enough sleep and exercise. When baby Pea turned three months old, none of the above had happened to me for a while, let alone all three of them together. As a result, I have felt like crap. There is no putting […]
Located on a quiet square just off Kensington Church Street, the Baby Spa by Laura Sevenus is tucked away neatly from the hustle and bustle of Central London. On my daily coffee run, I walked past it a couple of times before I eventually went in to figure out what’s it all about.
In line with the contents of my more recent diet, this post is called Nachos and Beer. OK, maybe there wasn’t that much beer (or not as much as I would have liked), but nachos definitely played a recurring role in my daily regime.
Petite Pea has been six months old this week. I find time has been flying even faster since this gurgling bundle of giggles joined our family. She is growing up too fast, both girls are, and although my heart overflows with mummy pride with every little step they make, I am also bemoaning the fact […]
So. Eight days without Big M in the house. That was interesting. Read: IT WAS BLOODY AWFUL! Both kids became ill the night my husband left. Murphy’s Law at its best.
While some of us have the indisputable pleasure to be zen’ed and detoxed in a luxurious spa resort in Thailand, others have to resort (ha!) to more creative measures to bring some catharsis into their lives.
Last night I shoved* the husband out the front door and sent him off to Thailand. He’ll be gone for a week of yoga, massages and detoxing. He’ll be enjoying delicious yet healthy meals, breath taking views and the calm and serenity that neither a family of four nor living in London can offer him.
My mother used to tell me never to accept sweets from strangers. I am sure she wasn’t talking about Chantal Coady, founder of Rococo Chocolates,when she said strangers. And for sure she didn’t mean any of Chantal’s divine concoctions, when she said sweets.
The world and I are out of tune. All around me, humankind is manically fiddling in a flashmob-like mass string quartet. And here I am, banging on my steel drum. PLONK. PLONK.
I love London. Don’t get me wrong, I really do. But sometimes, I ask myself why I ever exchanged this (see above) for the filth and grime that inevitably will expect us in the Big Smoke. Especially now, with two little girls in tow, the question Where To Live seems heavier and more prominent than […]