30 Jun 2026

This Is Not How I Want Summers To Be

Hot in’it? Currently sheltering in an air-conned café which is a blessed relief because – and this is official – my house is hotter than the fucking sun.

I was in a scenario recently where someone was dishing out a warning about the heatwave – Met have issued a red warning, stay at home, stay hydrated, look after yourselves yadayada. And then they followed it up with ‘but I don’t want to be a killjoy so do go out and enjoy the sunshine’.

It got me thinking about how the British have such a cultural problem when it comes to extreme heat. We are so predisposed to celebrate the sun, to throw ourselves out there the moment the big heatball appears in the sky, that it’s like we can’t quite bring ourselves to treat extreme heat with the seriousness that it deserves. At best, we continue to try and live our lives as normal, huffing and grumbling when our routines are interrupted and at worst, we treat it like the summers of thirty years ago and find ourselves baffled when we make ourselves ill. I feel like if we adjusted everything accordingly for extreme heatwaves like we do when there’s three foot of snow, we’d fare much better.

If you do try and take it seriously, you still feel the need to caveat, play it down. I’ve done it myself many times after a lifetime of being scoffed at for wanting to sit in the shade or being accused of being boring/a killjoy because I don’t particularly enjoy it when the temperatures go above 25c, even though the reason I don’t enjoy it is because it makes me feel unwell (I’m from Yorkshire for god’s sake, I think my body was only ever designed to thrive on temperatures below 20c.).

I feel the need to over explain, to emphasise that I don’t, in fact, hate summer. I LOVE summer. And what particularly pisses me off about extreme temperatures is that it gets in the way of enjoying summer. Summer should be light, windows stretched open wide, the sound of children squealing in gardens. This last week, my house has been dark and stuffy as every window and blind were closed in an effort to try and keep the house cool (still feels like an oven). Our kids can’t sleep in their bedrooms because they face south and are too hot at bedtime to justify being safe for young children. My eldest is sleeping on the living room floor, my youngest is being taken out for a walk in the buggy two hours past his bedtime and then being transferred to our bed. And still, they toss and turn and relentlessly scratch at their too-hot skin. They are spending their days inside – airconned nursery, airconned cafes if I’ve been willing to brave the walk, Granny & Grandad’s basement playroom (gloriously cool). They have cabin fever – IN JUNE – because of lack of time outside and come home manic and grumpy. These are minor inconveniences compared to a lot of people around the world I know but, I don’t want my kids to think of summers as dark homes, the outside dangerous and to be avoided. It makes me both sad and scared for them.

A red Met heat warning has only ever been issued once before. It means severe impact on infrastructure and health implications for healthy people who are not usually vulnerable to heat. It means danger to life. It’s happening because fossil fuels are heating up the planet at an alarming rate and our governments will not act accordingly (I think the British attitude contributes to this – if we don’t treat it seriously, we don’t act appropriately); scientist continue to scream at us that we are facing apocalyptic-like conditions. The fact that this could be as cool as it gets for our kids going forward fills me with a very particular kind of terror. So being told to enjoy the weather is starting to sound extremely… odd.

My husband and I are having the conversation about whether we should invest in aircon for the billionth time. It happens every summer now (and Spring if we’re honest) but the seriousness is increasing. Like most British homes, our house holds onto heat and as the heatwaves increase year by year, more and more it feels that at least half our home becomes unusable during the summer. Neither of us wants to save the money for it or contribute to the climate crisis but we have gone round the houses so many times wondering what else to do to make 35c+ summers more tolerable for our kids (aside from moving to the arctic circle). I know, believe me, that people have it so, so much worse than us but, christ, the UK needs to get a grip on this situation. Our infrastructure, our attitudes; it all needs to change. And fast.

It’s not all been bad (see, there I go again!). In that brief moment before dinner when our north-facing garden is in shade and my kids get to run around chasing bubbles or when we’re eating breakfast outside before the sun hits the garden, or eating two ice creams a day because: sod it. Or falling asleep looking at the inky sky because it’s cooler to leave the blind up or getting that holiday feeling stepping out of the shower and standing in front of a fan. Or lying on the grass with my husband looking at the candy floss clouds late at night. I just can’t help thinking we could still have all of that ten degrees cooler and even more so. And you know what? I’d enjoy it a lot more if every summer wasn’t accompanied with an existential dread about what the future of the planet entails.

But I don’t want to be a killjoy, so get out there and enjoy the sun okay?

P.S. shout out to any other mums currently breastfeeding in this heat. I am a dehydrated husk. You deserve a third and fourth ice cream.

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30 Apr 2026

Notes on nature and travel from The Pumphouse

I step softly out the bedroom with the baby on my hip, trying to stay quiet so as not to wake everyone else in the house, but when I glance out the landing window, I audibly gasp.

We are staying in The Pumphouse, a lone structure perched on the side of a river in the Fens, and the misty sunrise outside is spectacular. I am in my wellies and out there quicker than I ever usually move at that time in the morning. I can practically hear the Pride & Prejudice soundtrack playing as I walk through the dewy grass, watching the sunlight sparkling through the mist and listening to the geese gently honking in the fields beyond. My lungs exhale a lot of tension I didn’t even realise I was holding.

I need to be in nature more. Whilst I don’t have plans to move, for the first time in my life, I can understand the appeal of living in the countryside. I’m not sure I ever would – I think my desire to live very close to both a coffee shop and a bookshop will probably always win out – but I have a feeling my nervous system would be a lot happier if I were surrounded by trees. I’ve noticed how much happier Alfie often is when we’re in the middle of a lot of green stuff and I think noticing what the kids need is a very good way to learn, or at least be reminded of, what you need.

I keep having this feeling of wanting to disconnect and simplify. I suspect it’s simply a product of being a mum of two young children in a system that demands perfection and offers very little support to achieve said perfection, but I find myself fantasising about throwing my phone in the sea, going and living in a cabin in Scandinavia. In the meantime, a peaceful, misty sunrise definitely helped.

Later, my step-mum and I have a conversation about travel and what we want from it. I used to feel a pressure – almost certainly derived from social media – to go everywhere. And actually, I don’t regret leaning into this in my twenties. There are a lot of places I want to go, and I feel very lucky that I ticked off quite a few bucket list places before we had kids. But I feel a lot more intentional and selective about it now. It’s got to feel worth leaving home for – I like being at home (despite fantasies about upping and leaving for Denmark)! I don’t want to go somewhere less nice than my home and my own bed. I don’t want to go somewhere just because the masses declare I should. I want to go somewhere because I know that if I were in my eighties and I had not gone, I know in my soul that I would regret it. Letting go of this pressure is quite freeing; it allows you to focus on where you truly want to go.

We stayed very close to home last year; I vowed I wouldn’t force us into stressful scenarios with a new baby and a three-year-old just because I felt like we should and so we none of our trips took place outside of East Anglia. I have learned that the feeling that we often chase from a holiday is perfectly possible to find without actually going very far. The Pumphouse was a twenty-five-minute drive from our house and I left feeling refreshed, like I’d been somewhere different, like I’d cleared my head and taken a pause. And the lack of travel is such a perk; we left on Monday morning and could still be back in time for Gary to start work and Alfie nursery. It means that the refreshed feeling doesn’t get ruined by a long, stressful journey.

I sometimes miss the freedom I used to have when it comes to travelling. I never enjoyed the travel per se – it was a necessary evil to get where I wanted to go – but I miss how I could just go. Not having to weigh up the multiple needs of multiple people, questioning how fair it is to put young children through the stresses of travel when you know in your heart that they are probably happier pottering about at home. I hope to show my children more of the world as they get older but in the meantime, I hope to teach them that you can still gain a lot by hardly travelling at all.

Written November 2025

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25 Mar 2026

If we were having a coffee, I would tell you…

If I were sitting down to have coffee with you right now, I fear I wouldn’t know what to say. I feel the same when I try and sit down and write something, like there’s nothing there. In truth, I think there is plenty there, it’s just buried under a whole bunch of other crap like must fill out that form for the health visitor, how can I get my child to eat more vegetables, need to put on another load of laundry (the 412th load today), need to make more time to exercise BUT THERE IS NO TIME, the house looks like we’ve been burgled, I need to do the meal plan and food shop (why does everyone need to eat all the damn time), need to order more clothes for the kids, we really should make time for a date night soon BUT THERE IS NO TIME, will we ever have an uninterrupted night’s sleep, I really, really just need a break and then I will be a calmer more regulated human but lol when, how am going to fit paid work into all of this, when was the last time that room was hoovered, it would be really nice to not be needed for like, 15 minutes…

You get the idea. If someone asks me how I am, what’s going on in my life, my brain goes blank. I instinctively want to say ‘nothing’ because I don’t feel like I have anything interesting to contribute. But ‘nothing’ could not be further from the truth. I have never had more going on, it just doesn’t necessarily equate to the most interesting conversation. I could joke that it feels like my husband and I are basically just affectionate roommates right now or that my New Year’s resolution to be better at replying to messages and therefore not feel like I am being absent and distance friend to people I love dearly is not going well, or that I’m currently recovering from a nasty bout of norovirus but honestly, I bore myself. You don’t wanna hear about all the vomiting? No?

I have felt a lot recently like I am drowning under the relentlessness of parenting two young children and there is absolutely nothing left in the tank for anything else. I want to point out that I’m drowning but it’s pointless because gotta keep going regardless and why waste precious free time saying this when I could collapse on the sofa and stare at the wall? I feel like the version of me that isn’t ‘mummy’ is hulking in the corner like a neglected house plant, dry brown leaves withering and curling. She needs more sleep, to stretch, to eat better, to take some deep breaths, spend time with her husband away from the children, partake in a few hobbies, unclench her jaw, moisturise. There aren’t enough hours in the day.

I love my boys like nothing else but after a winter of constant illnesses, never-ending rain and some big emotions from our eldest, I feel like I can hardly remember what it feels like to not be living in survival mode. I guiltily fantasise about sleeping without the glow of the baby monitor, waking up and not being immediately needed, a childfree holiday, watching series four of Bridgerton…

I know we need better balance and my return to work, and therefore having more childcare, may provide that. I know I need a breather; I know I need to remember I am a person outside of my children, I know it will be good to use my brain for something outside of parenting again. And yet and yet and yet… I feel just a little heartbroken at the prospect. Arthur and I have barely been apart for an hour or two since he was born and the idea that we won’t be hanging out every day kills me just a little bit. Every time I drop him off for a nursery settling-in session, his little face crumples and I come dangerously close to snatching him back, running home and declaring that I am giving up working to my bemused husband. And yet and yet and yet… As I finish writing this, I am sat alone in a café typing as the sun streams onto through the window and onto my table and there is delight in being alone for a little while. Motherhood is a constant contradiction of emotions.

Spring has arrived and it could not be more needed. I know it’s going to be a little bumpy as we settle into yet another new routine, but I am really, really hoping there will be more joy and, please DEAR GOD, less illness.

(And if that all seemed extremely moany, please know I am very aware this is all the rants of a very lucky privileged person. Sometimes you just gotta be like URGH for a mo you know? Here is a list of lots of lovely things from the winter, cos I’m still always trying to cling to the joy even when everything feels like A Lot.)

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28 Feb 2026

Some Lovely Things

Plucking every ounce of good out of the winter months because, quite frankly, they have mostly been a pain in the arse.

A lovely day in London catching up with the girls. It is borderline impossible to get all six of us round a table these days so 4/6 wasn’t bad. We had a delicious lunch at Alma King’s Cross (which Arthur slept through the majority of – a win) and then an afternoon wandering around Coal Drop’s Yard nattering and shop browsing, including a chaotic visit to the photobooth. The photo strip makes me smile every time I look at it and I’m determined to frame it and get it on the wall somewhere. Cup well and truly filled up.

The snowman trail at Anglesey Abbey. I love these trails that Anglesey Abbey periodically put on, great kid entertainment and I’m always impressed by the art. Lovely little activity to start getting into the festive spirit.

Every third weekend in November, there is a three-day Christmas market at Ely cathedral and to me, it always feels like the start of the festive season. This year, they had a ferris wheel and we took the boys on. Alfie loved it but even as an adult, there is a certain element of childish glee at seeing the town from up high. Also, it was fascinating viewing the cathedral at a height we would never normally be able to.

Hunting out Christmas lights with my boy. This was the first year he had a real understanding that something was coming, and it was a joy to watch.

Watching The Polar Express with Alfie for the first time. He was mesmerised and so excited and it was such a joy to watch him experience it. The first time he’s sat through a feature length film as well!

Being the kind of house that has two Christmas trees – one in the kitchen, one in the living room – created a childish glee in me.

Celebrating Alfie’s 4th birthday. Still can’t quite believe we have a four-year-old.

The chaos of Christmas morning. Our living room looked like a hurricane had swept through it.

Doing one of those videos that puts a ‘reindeer’ in your living room. Alfie insisted on showing everyone on Christmas Day.

Arthur in his little Christmas outfit on Christmas Day.

The Christmas Day walk – it was cold, the skies were clear, there was a spectacular sunset. The ideal Christmas-day-walk conditions in my opinion. Also, that clear sky giving way to an extremely starry night; just felt a little bit more magical at Christmas time.

Wimpole Christmas light display on Boxing Day.

Staying in our pjs until midday, eating cheeseboards, allowing laundry and general house tidiness to slack in favour of watching The Polar Express with a hot chocolate for the eighth time. That period between Christmas and New Year is the best.

Watching the NYE’s fireworks with Alfie on New Year’s Day… five times. He was fascinated!

That slight relief of an empty calendar when January arrives.

Making porridge on cold winter mornings.

The feeling of it all being ahead.

Snow! I cannot tell you how desperately I wish to live somewhere that has proper snowy winters. It would be so much more enjoyable than the constant damp greyness. Still, it was great for the whole two days we had it.

January boredom had us redesigning the living room layout which escalated to a full-blown redecoration. Probably stress we do not need, but I’m looking forward to the finished result and the room working better for us.

Lunch dates with my gal Beth, we never don’t end up laughing slightly hysterically.

The Night Manager (spoilers warning…). I was unsure when I heard it was coming back because that first series was one of the best pieces of television in my humble opinion. I’ve watched it three times and am always struck by how slick and crisp it is, I wouldn’t change a single thing in it. And whilst the second series could never quite recreate that, it is still a cut above; when Hugh Laurie and Tom Hiddleston are on screen together, it’s pure theatre.

Catching up with best friends in Harpenden – they took us to Brad & Dill and the fried chicken, nduja mayo, mozzarella & crispy onion bagel was sensational.

Dishoom dates with my sister, we drink chai, we put the world to rights, and then we go browse bookshops. A joy.

My birthday: an excuse to make a huge cake and emerge from the drudgy depths of winter to go out and do something nice.

Gary & I squeezing in a couple of dates for the first time in a year. Only a couple of hours over lunch but a sign of more time with each other coming.

Making pancakes and dancing round the kitchen to the pancake song from Matilda (IYKYK) on a sunny Sunday morning.

The collective sigh of relief at making it to the end of February. Spring is on the horizon.

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14 Jan 2026

New Year Possibilities

If you’ve been around these parts for a while, you know I enjoy the new year feeling. I like a plan, like to reflect, like to look ahead and imagine. But I am also a big believer in that January (and February for that matter) are for being gentle and cosy. It’s the depths of winter, all sensible creatures are hibernating, nature is resting and restoring. We should be doing the same. So, when I say I like the new year feeling and looking ahead, know that I am absolutely not leaping out of bed on January 1st and kickstarting a new exercise regime. I just like to imagine things I could do; I see it as possibilities rather than pressure. It doesn’t matter if I don’t do any of it ya know?

Well, okay, I might be a little disappointed if I don’t do any of it, but the point is: this is not about punishment and pressure. It’s about looking at the blank page and musing about what could be had from the year. Mostly, I want the same but more. More of this lovely little life. More of the everyday joys of watching my babies grow. But maybe slightly more balance? Taking a bit more time to ourselves once I’m less confined by breastfeeding. Reintroducing our monthly dates. Have a day in London with my sister. Have a solo date – take myself out for lunch and to browse bookshops and just let my brain breathe a bit. Occasionally see friends without a baby in tow. Treat myself to a manicure. Have a massage! Live in delusional hope that one massage can cure all the aches caused by childbirth/breastfeeding/general day-to-day parenting!

Be intentional. With everything. Quality time, hobbies, habits. Try not to do everything in impossible levels of multi-tasking frenzy. Be realistic about what can fit into one day; make peace with reaching the end of the day with a long to-do list still ongoing. Good enough is excellent, perfection is impossible.

Get offline. Life should be more analogue; my phone should be like a tool – a Swiss Army knife. You wouldn’t sit and pointlessly stare at a Swiss Army knife instead of doing things you love. I deleted instagram off my phone before Christmas – the difference! This has to stay the case. No screens in the bedroom. More TV free evenings. Writing things by hand – it’s grounding. Journal. Note down thoughts on books and bakes. Opinions formed outside of the internet. Hobbies that use my hands; baking, of course, and maybe some scrapbooking this year? With stickers! Learn more about my iPhone camera. Print out that nice photo of the sunset or a cake or a pretty building. Put it in a scrapbook, make it physical.

Prioritise offline writing over online writing. But also, don’t overthink online writing. I love this space, I love Substack. Good enough, not perfect.

Invest time in things that will make my life easier in the long run. Declutter the house in tiny increments every day. 10 minutes a day to reply to messages (Stop! Taking! Weeks! To! Reply!). Back up & organise photos once a month. Write a seven-day meal plan - breakfast, lunch & dinner – and the full shopping list to go with it. Use it when I’m exhausted, overwhelmed or busy. Don’t do meal planning and the food shop at 10pm on a Sunday. Use the emergency meal plan when it’s 10pm on a Sunday and I’m cursing myself for not having stuck to this. Go shopping for good jeans; I hate it but I don’t like any of the jeans in my wardrobe and it’s just getting silly. Go shopping for glasses; my prescription is wildly out of date. Simplify my skincare (just can’t shake the feeling that most of it is all a scam?).

Pay attention to what my kids need and then apply it to myself. If I think that they need to be drinking enough water, eating enough veg and spending plenty of time outside, then so should I. If I think it’s good for them to feel boredom rather than having constant stimulation, then perhaps I need to allow the sensation too.

Expand my brain. Read outside my comfort zone. Authors I want to read more of, or try, for the first time this year: Zadie Smith, Maggie O’Farrell, Fredrik Backman, Eliza Clark, Saba Sams, Brit Bennett, Alison Espach, Ian McEwan & Nora Ephron. Read more of my cookbooks – I love reading cookbooks! Cook recipes with unfamiliar ingredients. Try five new bread recipes. Nail a really good tiramisu recipe, both vegan and non-vegan. Make a Bundt cake. Perfect really good porridge. Eat lots of beans, like nice, good-quality beans. Those fancy ones you see in jars. Plenty of veg, plenty of pasta. Ooo try five new pasta shapes. And unusual pestos! There isn’t a rule that says New Year’s resolutions can’t be daft and fun, although we all seem to act so.

Take the boys for a weekend in London, take them on the London eye, see it through their eyes. Go back to Center Parcs. Keep going to national trust places on the regular. Go on mini adventures. Put my toes in the sea at least once.

Live seasonally. I spent 2025 writing could-do lists at the start of each season and I found it energising, having that little re-set every 2-3 months. It made me feel like I was making the most out of the moment. Leaning into the feeling of each season (see above about January being gentle). More of this. I want to live slow enough to notice the seasons change. Cook seasonally, switch things around in the house. Even just changing my phone background to a recent photo of the snow. Small changes stop me feeling sluggish and I struggle to care if others think it’s all a bit silly. More silly little things that make me happy!

Happy new year folks!

P.S. I have been poor at sharing posts on social media in recent months so if you've come from that direction, here's some ones you may have missed:

Ten Years Of Blogging

Summer Journal | Slipped Away Like A Moment In Time

One Minute Book Reviews | Summer Reads

The Golden In-Between Month | An Ode To September

Why I'm A Center Parcs Convert

October'25 Scrapbook | Primrose Hill & Other Autumnal Days

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