Home?

I've lived in my flat for just over four years, since I moved back to the city of my birth. It's the place where my family are and some of my friends. I came back to help care for sick parents. Sold a place I loved, in a place I loved and bought a flat here.


It's never felt like home. It's somewhere I've been living. Somewhere that I always hoped, thought, would be temporary. It was a choice I made, but not one that I sought out. A duty, conscience at play. But, here I am.

I spent some of the money I made on the old place making this cheaper one mine. New kitchen, bathroom, shower room. Apart from my spare bedroom, I haven't finished decorating a single room. Each needs something doing. Mostly it's small things.

The shower room door was sanded down ready for painting months ago, albeit three years after the tiling and everything else were finished. It would take me a just few hours to paint the damned ceiling and door. Still, I haven't done it.

I have only hung one picture. It's a map of Scotland. It used to hang in my office, then in my old bathroom. I'd gaze at it whilst I was on the bath and wonder where I'd travel to next.

However, in the past few months something has shifted. Maybe I've just accepted that this place is my fate for now. I've been using up some annual leave days this week. I've drunk coffee, lunched, seen friends and family, caught up with myself, slept.

I have also hung three pictures and painted my bathroom ceiling.

Maybe this place will be home soon.

Cabin Fever

The low winter sun and snow are driving my urge for fresh clean air, to stretch my legs and find some space. I feel rather like a polar bear in the zoo this week. Sadly, the dodgy roads mean going anywhere far is out of the question, and no one else seems to be game for embracing the cold. Taking myself off on my own is not a safe option, particularly as I tend to be a fair weather walker and driving is bad.


When everything is so tantalisingly beautiful I just want to be out there somewhere.

It strengthens my conviction that this city won't be my home forever. I make the most of being here, enjoying the music, food, people, life that is on offer but it all feels very temporary. I dream instead of a different existence. I would like to be in a more rural setting and have easier access to the outdoors. Although I'm a city girl, born and bred, I have spent periods of time living and working in very rural areas. I don't have in my head some idyllic view of life in the country, I know it's not all strawberry jam and lovely neighbours. But, given the choice between the benefits and pitfalls of city vs rural/small town, I would love the opportunity to be elsewhere. In the meantime, I will do my best to escape when I can and enjoy what is offer under my feet.

Peace, quiet and mulled wine

I am shattered after four days of guests, parties, food – too much food – and wine. It's been so good to see the people I care about most but I was pleased to come home, shut the door, and listen to the quiet.


I haven't made any new year's resolutions. Unless they're supremely small, I tend to fail. I also won't make any predictions about the coming decade.

Looking back over this one, I could never have predicted where it would take me. My life is so different from what I had thought it would become. Neither in a good or bad way, just different. So, I will continue to look forwards and seek out opportunities and adventures, friendships and relationships but I won't begin to imagine where the next decade will take me, Instead, I will try to plough on and enjoy or endure whatever comes my way with gratitude and curiosity.

Tonight, I will mull the end of the bottle of red wine that sits open on my kitchen amongst all the dishes and a enjoy a final taste of winter's festivities and some peace.

On being Selfish

Whether we are great celebrators of New Year, makers of resolutions, or not: it is that strange time when one year tips into the next and is a marker on our journey. I've been looking back and forward a little. Reflection being no bad thing.


I sometimes wonder how people respond to the title of my blog. It's called what it is for a very specific reason. I needed to learn to look after me, not just those around me. The demands of caring for sick parents and other stresses had exhausted me and I fell to pieces. I needed to take some time for myself. After all, I'm useless to others if I'm not ok.

I guess to today I'm wondering if it's still as relevant as it was. I think it is, but in a different way. Dictionary.com defines 'Selfish' thus;

'devoted to or caring only for oneself; concerned primarily with one's own interests, benefits, welfare, etc., regardless of others.'

I agree still that this is what I needed to do - although it has never been regardless of others - but I did, and still do, need to push my needs up the hierarchy. Those needs have changed now. I've learned to say 'no', and not push my feelings to one side. The eldest sister in me will always struggle with this a bit.

More importantly, I think I'm beginning to believe that I deserve to be loved and supported too. Not just by looking after myself, but also in accepting these things from others. For so many years I have been so very scared of being vulnerable that I've succeeded in pushing people away, coping on my own and not letting them love me. I don't trust easily but I am learning. I am learning that other people may want to be part of my journey, not out of pity but from companionship, love and friendship. Finally I feel like I deserve it. They deserve not to be pushed away.

The walls are crumbling, and it's time that I understand that I too can to be cared for, and accept the love and support on offer. Being vulnerable still scares me, but now I am also a little excited by learning to receive and letting people see me.

The 'selfish' in my title will stay a while.

Children - To be or not to be?

I've talked occasionally about whether I want kids or not. My last post, on a cheerier note, mentioned it too. Writing it and time with my nephew has made me think a little about whether I'm be completely honest on this subject – with you and with myself.


I've been vague with 'if it happens, it happens. If not, that's ok' type comments.

I'm not sure that's true. It's what I tell myself.

In about a month and a half, i'll be 35. I'd always imagined I'd have settled down, married, be having a family now. It hasn't happened.

I don't let myself dream about being a wife and a mother because it seems so far away from reality right now. It's something that, courtesy of time and biology, seems to be slipping from my grasp. It means I have no choice but to consider what an alternative life might look like, and live the one I have as best I can.

The truth is, even if it scares me, I would love all of it.

Festive feet!

I some times wonder if I want children, but nights like last night make me think it wouldn't be such a bad idea after all.

Long story, but I received a marvellous festive pedicure from my 3 1/2 year old nephew. We had wonderful fun and just glancing at my feet today makes me giggle. Here's why.....

Once upon a time...

I spend much of my time trying to be positive, but there are weights that will not lift from my shoulders, and some days they seem to be heavier than others. There are days where I'd like to share the joy I find in small things.


I would like someone to bear witness to the ups and downs, and participate in a life that is about more than me.

I'm not looking for a grand romance, a knight in shining armour or someone to rescue me. I don't need these things, but I do want to trust and be trusted, have a companion and a lover. Children, perhaps. I want a relationship that's strength is patient and celebrates an ordinary life. I want to feel safe and content. I want to give these things too.

I'm reading Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray, and these words seem to have stuck in my head;

'her trust makes me faithful, her belief makes me good....'

I'd like to be 'her', some day.

Changing days

It is 10am and the first proper frost is still clinging to the trees, grass and cars outside. The sky is hazy and bright, and the sun is sitting below the tops of the trees, each of them looks like a silhouette. The last of the yellow leaves are floating free.


Winter is coming and I will plan cosy nights with friends round my table. Red wine and filling, comforting  food will be consumed while we laugh and debate the ways of the world. Come Hogmanay, I will welcome friends, family and neighbours with champagne and whisky to see in another year.

Will my home be first footed by a tall, dark man carrying cake or coal or a coin to bring us all a prosperous year? We will raise a dram and celebrate.

Still I wonder where I will sleep when the glasses are empty and the taxis have gone.

This is enough for now

I want to be happy, and right now, for the most part I am.

When I think of happiness, I do think of laughter, or joy, but mostly I think of contentment. I don't need to be joyous to appreciate what I have, and to be grateful for living my life well (I haven't always). Life, as we all know, is messy and complicated. Somewhere within all the difficult bits, and the moments that shine contentment has emerged.

After a week of music, friends, debate, being on the receiving end of a painful drunken rant, and some small achievements I can say that right here, right now on the cusp of a new week that I am content with the one that's passing. If that's happiness, it'll do for me. Simple pleasures, truthfulness and good company.

PS this is now a highly edited version of last night's witterings. I had a lovely evening at an exhibition launch and then an accoustic session accompanied by a generous helping of red wine. Noone should be allowed to be (mildly) drunk in charge of a blog!

A year...

to the day that my newphew was in hospital having life saving and devastating heart surgery; a year less a day since I was visiting two parents in two different hospitals both having had accidents because of other illnesses; a year less two days since I split up with my last serious ex. All that was important to me was vulnerable, and so was I.

A year later, I'm not glad any of those things happened but they were the catalyst for me to go places I never thought I could, starting a chain of events that have left me far better. It has been a strange and incredible year. Today I must at least acknowledge those changes and achievements.

Waiting....

Ok, the elation of having a new world at my feet has somewhat subsided in face of having to sort out the details of it all. Procedures, confidentiality and secrets restrain me. I can't share with those whose company in which I spend my days. I want to end my discomfort and thiers but until the detail has been determined, I am bound.

I want to share my anticipation of the future and the sadness of losing those who have helped me craft and shape my skills, experience, and passions. I feel like I am betraying those memories by hiding behind procedures. There is no alternative. I want to let the words out, and thank them for all that they have given me of their knowledge and friendship and support. I must try to patient and dignified.