Family and Vandalism.

For the first time in too long… I went “home.”


Growing up, my family and I moved a lot. In my lifetime I’ve attended seven different schools and lived in eighteen different houses in seven different countries. I got very comfortable with saying goodbye to friends. What I never really grew accustomed to, though, was saying goodbye to the family that I followed from country to country, city to city, house to house… which is why it took me two and a half years to go back to them this time.

For the first time since January of 2015, I sat around a dinner table with my parents and my “little” brother and we tucked into a homemade roast with all the trimmings, only this time the table was larger and packed to bursting with the people we love; my better half and our two small humans, my best friend, her partner and their adorably pensive and beautiful new daughter and my brother’s handler… I mean girlfriend.

IMG_3665We spent an afternoon at the beach where our buggy wheels tried to embed themselves in the sand and my brother’s kite wire tried to embed itself in his girlfriend’s neck when it was caught in a particularly aggressive gust of wind. I kept my distance from him after that.

My mum and I wandered along the shoreline with her Frenchie, Eric… whose drool was pooling in the sand below his chops, as he made an overheated noise not too dissimilar from what I imagine someone drowning in a bucket of Super Noodles would sound like. We found what looked to be some sort of leg bone with a gnarly bit on the end and it was the only time that I’ve ever heard the phrase “Is that a human foot??” at the beach with such terror in the voice that carried it. A strange man took photographs of my mum and her gross but lovable dog and then muttered something into his phone as we left the sand. I can only assume that he was part of the Russian mob and was the one responsible for the foot.

“Vladimir, our cover is blown. Some short, chubby women have discovered Ivan’s remains. Leave them to me.”

We never did get murdered, so his phone conversation can’t have been as shifty as we’d imagined. We did get ice cream, though. IMG_3663

We played Speak Out and Go Fish, ate far too much cheese and spent about 80% of the time taking the p*ss out of each other… and the journey home after it all was twice as long as we’d hoped because the littlest human decided that having a total meltdown was the right thing to do. We got back to the house, flopped down and got ready to settle back into normal life.

When I woke up the next day, the littles and I rushed through the school run prep before heading out to the car…


My beautiful little Fiesta had been assaulted by some drunken idiot on their way home from the pub the night that we got home, and this was the point where my biggest little burst into tears, asking me “Why did someone do that to our car?? Why are people so horrible? Why has this happened?”

Honestly? I had no answers for her other than “Some people are just rubbish humans.”

Unfortunately the rest of the week didn’t improve very much, but my brain has been in overdrive thinking about free patterns, tutorials, crochet courses, webinars, e-books, and tonnes of new yarnbaby designs to share with you all over the coming months.

If you can smell burning rubber, it’s my brain going into meltdown.

Love and wet snogs,


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