The postman, toenails and a good book

This week I'm loving:


Anticipating the postman



Oh god I love the postman. Not the regular one who delivers the mundane letters, those dreaded bills in window-faced envelopes, no – I’m talking about the one that brings all the parcels and goodies from near and far. I love the anticipation that comes after buying something online, knowing that today could be the day. Is that sad?

It doesn't even have to be anything particularly exciting, I get all happy knowing that I've got some pre-loved baby clothes, or some doggy name tags coming.


I am an eBay addict. Enough said.


Painting her toenails



There comes a time in every little girls life when she wants to be just like mummy and do what mummy does. Personally, I never go without nail polish – fingers OR toes, so its no big thing to me, and its such a simple little gesture. Nothing makes Skye feel more like a “big girl” than painting her toenails. We do them in a very pale pink, and she’s very careful to sit still while I’m doing them, and afterwards too – because she doesn’t want to smudge them.  And then there is the delight in showing those cute little toenails to daddy when he gets home… all evening he gets “Look daddy! Look! Look at my toenails daddy!”.

Love making my baby girl feel all girly.

A Good book


Oh I rarely get much time to read these days, but I just love kicking back with a good book! These days I try to find at least 15 minutes each day to sit down and relax with a novel, to take myself away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life and give my batteries a brief recharge.

Reading a good story is like a balm for the soul, and when I don’t get to read for a few days I start to feel somewhat unfulfilled. I have a huge bookcase full of books, and I’ve read almost all of them. Most of them have been read over and over. My mum doesn’t understand this – to her, once you know the story, why would you want to read it again? You know what happens!

To me though, the whole point of reading and immersing yourself in a story is not to find out how the tale ends, but to lose yourself between the pages. When it’s a beautiful story and told well, I don’t actually read ‘words’ – my mind starts playing out the story as if I’m watching a movie. My imagination takes over and I know what each character looks like, I can visualise every minute detail. I can lose myself for hours in a book this way. I’ve spent whole days languishing in a book.


Reading a beloved book is like slipping between the sheets of a comfortable bed – relaxing, joyous, you can stretch out and look around and see things that you hadn’t noticed before, and lose yourself in other worlds.

I’ve just finished re-reading “The Other Boleyn Girl” by Philippa Gregory – absolutely delicious. The movie was good, the book is a thousand times better. I then spent 10 minutes standing in front of my bookcase, trying to decide which world I'm going to venture into next.  Decisions, decisions.