Aesthetically Irresistible Books

Never judge a book by its cover. This is what I am not supposed to do, yet is exactly what I have done and am confessing to in this post. I am presenting to you a selection of books that I couldn’t resist buying.  The main reason? Their dainty ‘buy me’ covers. These may not all be what you are expecting by the way.

Judgement of this kind is a matter of taste, after all.

I am attracted to a certain type of book! Just like a person may be attracted to a certain type of person.

‘The Pursuit of Love’ by Nancy Mitford


This beautiful edition caught my eye on our honeymoon.  We were spending a few days in Victoria, British Colombia. I was already charmed by this quaint and pretty city and then found a wonderful bookstore amongst the antique shops. And smiling at me from the shelves was this edition. Yes, I had to carry it for the rest of the walking day. Yes, it was extra luggage back two flights to Ireland. Yes, looking at it makes me happy. The front boards are covered with one large image, a reproduced painting with ridiculously angular men and women, over privileged and fashionable. I love the idea of a book as a painting. If this book had handles,  I would wear it like  handbag.

I love the story too! ‘Love in Cold Climate’ is also an essential read.

Pilgrim’s Progress by John Bunyan


I have a fascination with the novel Little Women as I mentioned in What Katy Did: Tributing those childhood reads that made me who I am. Therefore I often thought about that book the March girls were so fond of with all the good advice called Pilgrim’s Progress. I saw the book in the same shop in Victoria, the same place where I had been so excited to visit film locations from the movie of Little Women made in the nineties. I couldn’t resist this edition.  It looked so part of another world,  hardback with a hand drawn image reproduced on front. Lovely.

Who can resist a dust jacket?


I bought this in London at the wonderfully Dickensian named Jarndyce Booksellers near the British museum. Another one to drag around all the time as a heavy load, but I couldn’t leave it. It didn’t help that I splurged on two beautiful volumes that day! The movie Mrs Miniver with Greer Garson is a childhood memory of mine as a desperately sad tale. It truly showed how an ordinary, very comfortable middle class world could be destroyed by the effects of war. I couldn’t resist this edition with the red and (yellowed) white, almost intact jacket.

Cranford by Elizabeth Gaskell 

This is the second book purchased in London that day. It is not my only copy of this book as I have two ‘everyday’ versions. Love this book. I couldn’t leave behind a copy with such a formally written author’s name on front.  Mrs Gaskell sounds formidable indeed and most certainly not the writer of such gentle, safe humour.

The black and white graphics on this cover of this novel does not match the poignant reservoir of emotion I hold for this pathos filled story. I have an obsession with the actor Robert Donat and in particular his role in Goodbye Mr Chips. I watched the movie first in this case but felt obligated to buy the book when I found it on a shelf in a second hand store. Strangely,  I would have been drawn to this old dust jacketed hardcover anyway with the white on black stark image. It is just that it isn’t the cosiness I associate with Old Chips! I recommend you watch this movie. Bring tissues. I melt everytime. Donat’s performance is so powerful that I have refused to watch other versions until recently. I was in a situation where I saw Peter O’Toole’s performance. I must say it was wonderful.  My Dad always compliments the Martin Clunes adaptation too.  Therefore this story has great power. Watch it! READ it!

Poetry and I are friends. At a very wet and muddy trip to the popular Bloom festival in Dublin, I found a small rickety stall selling first editions and signed copies of books. It had been such a disappointing trip (weather,  muck, overpriced entry and food) that I splurged on this signed copy of Longley poetry.  It is a prized book on my shelf of wonderful writings. I loved the look of it. Clean cut and asking for interpretation. The dedication is not to me. I also am the type of a person who buys old written postcards in an attempt to save the sentiment from the trash!

It was just so pretty!

Again,  I have working versions of these Blake poems from college and for class. Why do I feel impelled to buy a modern copy, clearly made to look pretty and pleasing so that poetry fans like myself must buy yet another copy??! I don’t know why. I only know I love this smaller edition with the colourful, artistic jacket and jaunty font.

So there we have it. I am a person who judges by appearances! Only not people’s thankfully. Just the pretty books in my life! Books are my treasures so any moment with one must be enjoyed as a busy working  parent who finds these moments rare. Why not have a pretty version of the book to enjoy with the best coffee in a gorgeous mug? I write about happiness and this is it!

I may blog about this again. I like it!




The Battle of Ups and Downs.

How many highs and lows can you get before you use up your stash? I just am wondering if God or the karma fairy or just something else we have no clue of (someone in the sky, these ‘beings’ of higher power are always in the sky in my opinion) is quietly stock taking my lot and one day I will run out?

What happens then?

I wonder if that is when I became dead fish eyed and uncaring? If my bland solid life, of no erratic content, makes me slide through in banal oblivion not giving a bit of notice to the joys of holidays, births, the tragedy of illnesses, deaths and life’s tough times?


I don’t really want that either.

I want to enjoy and love it all. Sometimes however the universe is fighting me hard and testing my emotional strength. The ups and downs are swings and roundabouts, thrills and spills, tears and laughter inducing moments. They are so topsy turvy that when they really accelerate, like this weekend, that I wonder if I am able to take much more?

Life as a funfair. Is it fair that it isn’t always fun?

So Sky Being, are you real and are you monitoring my usage? If so, how am I looking? I have concerns you see, as I feel I over used quota on several occasions this weekend.

Oh those mathsy humans who can do sums.

Let’s start on Friday.

A pleasant Up- the fudge and coffee acknowledged in Birthday Baked Alaska.

Sharp Down swing- baby Betsy trying to kill us at bedtime. Our sleep angel has become unsettled at the time we settle her down and we are spoiled, so are unused to this. She has congestion so we we worry. We started her on solids this week so we blame that. We blame weather. Beds. Sleeping bags. Nappies. Stuffiness. Overly small babygros. Overly large babygros. I obviously blame my return to work as having ignited a fear of abandonment in her. The guessing game continues.




Gentle Up- nice morning cuddles from all.

Major Down- Betsy crying for two hours. Awful.

Tentative Up- girls looking beautiful in dresses as we set out for their cousin’s first holy communion. Lots of swish swoo smile action.  Only tentative as we can tell they aren’t fully happy. Also my own dress made me look six months pregnant. I found a slightly less terrible alternative.


Swing Down- Gigi very unhappy on car trip. Teary. Not hungry. Bad sign. Breakfast for us on the run and in turns from motorway truck stop, AppleGreen when Gigi slept.

Counteractive Up- mass wasn’t too stressful. I mean there was no public meltdown. I dread mass and bringing a small baby and toddler to it. I usually don’t.

Somewhat Down- actually mass  was quite stressful as we each had a baby and I was in and out frequently. Mass was two hours long and in Irish.  Really didn’t get into it. Mr Paper was in fact hosting a silent storytime at one point to three young children mid sermons with a book entitled It’s Not Fair.

Up- cousin was sweet and beautiful in her dress. She did extremely well!


Down- first two hours at celebration in house after was a hairy mix of nappies, people, overexcitement and scary oversized bouncy castle that made Gigi happy yet sad as the same time. Neither of us could eat the snacks or have coffee etc like other people as we’re the parents of the two under two, as I overheard many say, as if we were the surviving brontosaurus clan from another era.

Air filled treachery for a parent of an almost two year old.

Surprising Up- Betsy went to sleep. I had to swing her seat in the air and now have arm ache like a day spent turning turf on the bog but it was worth it. Gigi chilled out with her Nana for a bit. We both ate dinner. We went at it like apes at the banana feast in the zoo. We both ate delicious dessert. We each had a mouthful of hot coffee.

Down- Getting home wasn’t too awful but the evening was cruel. No one would settle to bed once we got home due to a mass sleepathon in the car and overstimulation. Gigi went at half eight. Betsy hit a whopping Guinness record of ten fifteen. Way past our own bedtime.


Up- We had Chinese food. We had it at half ten. It was manna.

Sunday has been lovely and stressful also. Lots of belly laughs with the girls but then the workload of the week to do before Monday weighing me down like an exam student’s  backpack in the nineties before the technology. Both girls are at size changes so the clothes management is bonkers. I decided to tackle it at five pm today. Packing. Bagging. Stacking.  Folding. Hanging. Size checking. That last bit may be the worst. Why are sizes always hidden on secret places on tiny tags??

We end on an Up. Beth went to sleep happily at seven. Smiling.

Gigi had a fun bathtime and a lovely day.

We spent time together watching some TV, sharing chocolate, chatting and just hanging out.


Motherhood makes ups and downs more violent in their approach somehow. They are erratic and unpredictable. One moment you are content and satisfied, loving something adorable your child is doing, the next you are secretly, privately banging your first on a utility room counter in the hope to get out frustrations.

Once the ups are strong enough to defy and dominate the downs, life is OK.


It  still requires a dose of daily survival tactics however and I reckon this is the way it is for another while.

In the meantime trips to events such as a family communion is like babysitting kittens on a boat. Terrifying and tense with moments of unexpected and untrustworthy serenity.


So Sky Being. Let me know when I am reaching my limits, OK? Thank you for your customer service.

Birthday Baked Alaska

I have always loved birthdays. In my twenties I would have had a night out, lunch earlier and maybe dinner. Nowadays I am not so into the night out but I still like my birthday. It makes me want to relish something.  Enjoy it. Feel special.

I have a friend who spans her birthday throughout a month. I don’t see her very often as she lives in the US, but Facebook shows me her life events. One day it is a Malteaser milkshake.  The next could be a theme park. The niceties vary. These images have we managed to ear worm into my brain and stick. I like them. Why shouldn’t she treat herself? It’s the one time you can go for it! Guilt free.

My mother brought Hawaiian pizza for us as part of my birthday treat. No cooking and yummy tea. Perfect.

I was 36 last Tuesday. Having the two babies means that I am extremely preoccupied but that does not mean the feeling of being special had to be relinquished! That morning I allowed myself a fresh white roll and sausages from a lovely bakery near my weight watching class. Straight out of one door after being weighed, I walked in another to indulge. It was top! Irony made it taste all more savoury.


My little girls got me something I love (with help from their Daddy). Mugs. Mugs make me happy. I like having my favourite brand coffee in a nice mug whenever I can and enjoy it. Treat!

Love the sentiment and the inside pattern
I didn’t have one. Teenage boys tend not to buy them for you or at least that’s what I tell myself!

My sister visited, which is always lovely, and brought chocolates, a head massager and a box set of The Sopranos. Something for future enjoyment!  The chocs are gone already.

Tony and the family.

Dinner out with the hubby was to a lovely, local venue where I had fabulous pork duo (wellington and ribs) but the real birthday treat was the dessert. Baked Alaska in a mug. Nostalgia. Eighties. Delectable. So out of date it is cool. Retro chic yumminess.

Food as a reward is a theme here. Hmmm!

We had our honeymoon in Alaska too. This makes it even nicer!

Spoiler Alert. If you like Johnny Depp films, I am about to ruin the ending of one.


I think of the movie Chocolat and that scene where Judi Dench’s character (older, diabetic) has her massively indulgent birthday party during Lent much to the dismay of an upstanding rigid christian French village. Afterwards, she dies in her chair. Happiness, I feel is her last emotion. I love it. Loved the book too. It didn’t have Judi Dench however.


Life was busy this week.  The treats were enjoyed all the more as a result. Today is Friday. Work is over. I have stopped on my my drive home to get a takeaway cappuccino from a lovely little place in a village on my route. 20 cents also passed hands for two pieces of home made fudge.

Not my usual treat but it is definitely tasty today.

This is because I remembered my friend’s way of celebrating by treating herself little or large for a month.  I decided to try a taste of that. Being kind to oneself for a while.

It tastes great.

I thoroughly recommend it.

Next year before we can do it all again!

My Short Term Forgettery

They grow up so fast. Enjoy them while they’re young. You won’t feel it.

That’s what EVERYONE says. Threateningly! Usually when you are grumpy over a late night, spit up on a clean outfit or a melt down over a yogi. (This is toddler speak for a yoghurt in my house).

She could eat three a day. We have to put limits on yogi.

I know they are right. So I am keeping journals. My friend gifted me a cutely titled dinky blue and yellow affair entitled The Happiness Project when Gigi was born. I bought a matching when Betsy was born. They should have the same I think. I imagined the comparisons in the future if I hadn’t made two and am aiming to avoid at least one.

I need to write a line or two everyday for five years. It is a bit of a commitment. At first it felt like a bit of a sentence! Yet I am in year two for Gigi and it has been surprisingly  speedy.

Am I good at it?  No.

Sonetimes a week elapses before I write. I find it ridiculously hard to recall what we have done with the girls in that time, consulting phone calendars and shaking my head furiously in rusty attempts to dig out the dirt. I have a good memory. Or so I am told. Or so I thought. In fact the truth is that my short term memory has morphed into more of a ‘forgettery’ as baby brain ( a very real condition, doubters beware) dilutes the power of my brain. I feel like Superman near a Kryptonite  Yankee Candle special edition. Weakened by deadly, sweet smelling vapours. Therefore ‘people’ are right. Being  Mammy to smallies is very temporary. It goes so fast. We forget. I don’t know how to feel about that.

My strict, possibly overly rigid and scarily ‘locked in’  choice of memory books for my girls may be in fact the perfect choice. They help me remember the teeny details. I look at an entry for Gigi from last October.  ‘You ate pears’, it declares, scrawled in what looks like ladybird tracks. I mean wow! Who knows the first date they ate pears? My little sausages will!!


Here are the ‘firsts’ from this weekend alone. I must write them in. Later. After tea. Or a bath.

Gigi gave me a warning for the first time yesterday evening. She was clearly copying a discipline technique used in crèche.  Just remember. She gave the warning to me. Not the other way around!

No,no no!!

We were in teatime debates over a controversial snack (yogi number three). She was overtired and emotional. She screeched. A plaintively misunderstood cry of ‘Noooo!  No MAMMY!’assaulted my ears. Then she wiggled her finger authoritively. She began, ‘One. TWO. THREE…’. I realised what was happening. I wanted to laugh. Instead I joined in for my warning. We were both shouting ‘hurray!’by ten. I got away with it.

A funny moment earlier that day took me by comedic surprise. I am not a ‘burp out a word’ person. I find it faintly nauseating and not very funny. Just as the never ending supply of parent wonder dictates however, I am most heartily entertained if my own child does it. Gigi ran into the sitting room, after her dinner, to tell me she was going for a walk with her Nana. ‘Bye BYE’ she burped out, wind emphasis on the last ‘bye’ and I laughed out loud. The bewildered expression on her face was hilarious as she tried to figure out what had just happened!


Just discovered Bitmoji. A whole lot more of that will be coming your way!

Betsy had her first solid food this weekend. Having read ‘French Children Don’t Throw Food’ I was all inspired to make her first tastes exciting. I had followed the ‘Your Baby Week by Week Guide’ for Gigi very successfully so I hoped a healthy combination would be great.

Old habits die hard however and before I get food adventurous with my baby’s palate I am having her on a week of plain baby rice first. She was so excited to sit in a high chair. Have a spoon of her own to bash on the tray top. To have little mouthfuls of bland old milky rice! Did she blow ricey raspberries? Yes!

Thank God these people are FINALLY feeding me.

Gigi also had her first trip as a passenger on a bicycle with her Daddy in a local tourist attraction walking and cycling area, Boora Lakelands. As she was belted in, she looked vaguely bewildered. As her Dada pedalled them off, she began to laugh in a raucous excitement bordering on mild hysteria, much to the bemusement of the other visitors.


I am in bed. Lights are out. I am typing on my phone. Have I filled in my books ? No. Sometime later in the week I will be shaking my head trying to recall this weekend’s more important details and am sure to make do writing some inane (maybe only vaguely true) statement such as ‘You wore blue shorts’. Thereby omitting the day that you, Gigi, peeled with laughter at your first trip on a big bike as a passenger or you, Betsy first tasted actual food.

Will I ever learn??


Relaxing at the Weekend

I suppose the whinger inside me thinks that one of the first things that you give up as a Mammy is relaxing at the weekend. It is like you have to go back to basics and experience absolute chaos before you slowly but surely start to find relaxing moments in your two days away from your actual job. Or so I hope.

know that playing with these children will be part of future relaxing weekends. I also MUCH prefer being with then than at work. It is not relaxing though people.

A family celebration last night meant guests here this weekend. These are close relations so not too stressful. I still felt under great strain yesterday however after work as I jumbled bags, babies, shopping lunches and a burdening desire to use the loo from four o clock until six pm on my initial arrival home. I had to preplan weekend meals, children’s sleep times and outfits before our first official external babysitter arrived! (This means a babysitter that I am not actually related to and will pay). Party stated at nine. House guests coming at eight. My stress levels making pinging sounds as they extend to levels they should never reach started before everything else. Food eaten. Plates washed. Babies sleeping. To the pub we went. Late home. Dodgy sleep. Three beers is far too many for me these days.

That was Friday. Evening only.

This morning saw a feed for baby at half five. Alarm ringing for Mr Paper to milk cows at six.  Toddler awake at seven. My sister in law and little niece up too. Playtime. Dishwasher. Bottles. Floors. Surfaces. Nappies. Dressing. Redressing after spit ups.  More nappies.  Dogs. Frying sausages and rashers. Tea. Coffee. Toast. Crumbs. Softening butter. Dishes. Surfaces. Floors. More bottles. Nappies. Everyone goes for a walk except Betsy and I. Crying. Cuddling.  Solid food attempt. Spitting. Smiling. Dishes. Surfaces. Nappies. Everyone over. More cousins.  Toys.  Snacks. Peppa. Dollies. Pretending.  Floors. Surfaces. Tea. Coffee. Cold drinks. Hungover heads. (Mine was fine at this point. Just tired. ). Lunches. Nappies. Naptime. Fighting naptime. Actual naps. Catch up. Dishwasher. Dogs. Freezing lunches. Others go out for lunch. I choose to stay with the babies and not disturb their naps. Simpler than organising leaving the house with smallies too. Bear in mind I have had no shower.

I am not breast feeding. Pixabay didn’t have a bottle feeding image! Please make a mental visual swap.

It is now two pm. I have had ten minutes with pasta, followed by coffee and chocolate. My head boils over with thoughts of what needs to be done and I don’t see how it can ever happen. Ever! In the whole future!! Hoovering? Mopping? Bathroom cleaning? I want to jump up and begin to move mountains. I know though that I don’t have long. I am on the wait for the babies to wake. I have about fifteen minutes to enjoy what is now my relaxing weekend.

A small cry for ‘Mammy’ is keening across the hall.

Little pet.

I must go.

Bye bye ‘relaxing’ weekend.


The Liebster Award

It is wonderful when someone thinks enough of your work to give it ‘the nod’ by doing something like nominating you for a Liebster Award. I am still a relatively fresh faced, shiny-eyed new blogger with a crisp notebook, pen and pinafore, not long into term so this means a lot to me. Thank you Gigglingfattie for making me one of your choices. I have been really enjoying your blog and your attitude to life too! I can’t buy you an ACTUAL thank you gift, so here is a selection of virtual ‘thank you’ drinks to choose from. On me!! Cocktail or mocktail, as you wish.

My first day back at work after maternity leave and I am smiling! When I started writing as An exercise in happiness earlier this year, I had hoped it would work. It hasn’t just worked. It has been magic. Bloggers can cast spells that leave you feeling relaxed, entertained, hopeful, redeemed, excited or inspired. Today I get to nominate some bloggers for this award who have done thus for me! I am thrilled.

Writing Fairy God People

There are rules with the award and here they are!

You are asked to:

  • Thank the blogger(s) who nominated you
  • Answer the 11 questions the blogger gives you
  • Nominate 11 bloggers that you think are deserving of the award but more importantly help to promote newer bloggers with fewer followers.
  • Let the bloggers know you nominated them (you can create a pingback by copy and pasting the URL of a specific post into your blog. It doesn’t work with the home page, but any other post will work. Their most recent, ot perhaps your favourite one?)
  • Give them 11 questions of your own to answer


Firstly as the rules suggest, I must answer my questions. Here I go. Oh by the way, my blogging friend re-imagined the canon here, by flipping it! Instead of getting ‘your favourite’ questions, I must answer on ‘my worst’ experiences. That is fine by me.

  1. What is the most disgusting thing you’ve ever eaten? I have egg dreads. Cannot abide an egg.  This evolves to egg based condiment, mayonnaise. Therefore the worst thing I ever ate that I felt obliged to complete was Coronation Chicken as a guest at my friends’ home. They had gone to huge effort. I ploughed queasily through and still imagine the jar of mayonnaise that went into the making of that well meant but terrible meal. Eggs in cake?  No issues there surprisingly.
  2. The worst book you’re read/movie you’ve seen? Ah yes. 1993 ish. An old Irish midlands cinema. The screen often flashed erratically during the feature then the movie would stop. Breakdown. Everyone would squeal or chat. I was glad however when this particular  film broke down. It was ‘The River Wild’ with Kevin Bacon and Meryl Streep. Ironically, I love both actors. I have grown to love them as I was slightly poisoned by this movie for quite some time. What was wrong with it? You know, I can barely remember. I think it was teenage angst, cynicism and hormones on my part that aided in my hate of this film and I just ‘took against’ it. I was just so bored in my Wrangler jeans and ox-blood Docs! 
  3. The worst vacation you’ve ever been on?  There is something amazing about every holiday.Time away? I would enjoy a day making cheese at this stage. I am so ‘trip away starved’ at the moment that I can’t think of the worst I ever had. They all have a jolly rosy glow of loveliness in my memory. 
  4. The worst gift you’ve ever received? I don’t enjoy perfume gift sets that are celebrity created. Britney perfume etc. They weren’t my worst gifts to begin with but they are now because I just don’t know what to do with them. They are like being gifted a job as you have to move them on somewhere.
  5. Worse style phase you went through (for me it was blue eye shadow and green lipstick at the same time…ooo the late 90’s were not good to me). I went through a patchwork pants stage. Less said the better. The eighties pink culottes with gold buttons rocked though!
  6. The worst date you’ve ever been on?Any date that wasn’t with my husband, the wonderful Mr Paper. He is the best fun to be with and who I am most comfortable with always. I want to spend all the fun occasions in my life with him.
  7. Worst pick-up line you’ve ever heard? My husband says, ‘Do you work for Jacobs? Why? Because you’re a cracker!’. That is so bad I am fond of it.
  8. Worst job you’ve ever had? I have had some boring jobs. A few awful jobs. My worst job however was in a newsagents’ store working for a woman who hated life. She was a misery. I don’t know why. Young, pretty and with lovely children. I can only imagine I didn’t understand her.
  9. Worst teacher? I can easily answer the question even though I once again feel the dreads. The reason for this is I am a teacher now and hope no one ever nominates me as the worst teacher!! My worst teacher was a nun who was my principal and sixth class teacher in primary school.  She was a harridan, a virago, a shrew of an almost fictional quality. Macbeth’s witches were cherubim in comparison. Racist. Cruel. Bitter. Unpleasant. Insulting.  Cynical. Terrifying.  She victimised the weak or underprivileged. We were aged 4 -12. Really? Who thought this woman should run a little girls’ school? I was born in 1980. I witnessed her spank a child in 1988. This isn’t that long ago and corporal punishment had been banned. Her favourite insults to call us on a daily basis included ‘stupo’ or ‘dumbo’. The worst teacher? The worst human I have ever met.
  10. Biggest regret from the last 72 hours? Eating and drinking too much junk thereby making my weigh in at WW this week a farcical three pounds plus.
  11. Worst personality trait? I have a tendency to think no one is listening to me and lose the plot over this. I don’t have this issue at work only with family and friends.

My nominees!  Firstly,  I hope that you can accept the award. If you already have one and I didn’t know, I apologise. And congratulations!

1.Katystuff A great blogging friend. I feel we keep in touch as if we really have met. This blogger’s attitude is amazing and I feel as if I know her family.

2.Dearlilyjune I love this lady’s writing. She is gifted.  This blog is a collection of love letters to a little girl, Lily June. Beautiful.

3.Theclothesline Funny, honest and comforting. A wonderful blog that I love to read.

4.Nutsrok This storyteller makes me laugh and cry with wonderfully told tales. Out of nowhere then you receive a selection of Farside comedy images to make your day.

5.Simpledimple Giggles & Tales. What a positive blog! Charged with happiness, I live the images and writings.  They brighten my day.

6.Aliidaacstoryteller The mythological tales are fantastic. The real life stories are as much so. I was drawn to this blog immediately and it is a read I thoroughly enjoy.

7.Bumbles of rice I can relate to everything she writes! I loved the letter to her children on why we say no.

8.Special Needs Teaching Ideas As a teacher, this blog is so helpful and inspiring. Ideas and thoughts that have actual function in my classroom!

9.A Silver Voice From Ireland  Stories from Ireland, nostalgia and memories. Beautiful to read.

10.My Little Babóg This Mammy amazes me!! This is another honest,  self-depracating and comical outlook on Mammyhood that I love. I love the tips. I nearly even made my own baby wipes as a result…!!

11. Busyirishmammy She tells it how it is and also loves to shop. Love it!

My eleven life changing questions!

  1. What fictional character do you most relate to?
  2. What should you have forgiven yourself for by now?
  3. What toy from your childhood had the most effect on you?
  4. What lightens your heart the most?
  5. What mundane activity makes you the most cheerful when performing it?
  6. Would you live another life if you were allowed swap? (Sneaky extra: who’s life??)
  7. What was the funniest misinterpretation that you made as a child?
  8. Is there a burning ambition inside you to be something else?
  9. Is there anything that you love in your ‘old age’ that you detested in your youth?
  10. Shakespeare,  Dickens or Wilde. Which would you chose if any?
  11. What drew you to the blogging world?

So I am done! This was a hard post guys! The system tried to beat me, complete with computer glitches etc but I have won. Yea!

I would just like to thank myself. ..

Good luck all and thank you once again!!

Be Our Guest–In Which “Fancy” Makes Our Lives into Real World Fairy Tales — dearlilyjune

Reblogged from dearlilyjune!

Dear Lily June, If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a million times: I’ve put out a call to anyone (seriously! anyone!) who stumbles upon this blog to write you a letter for your upcoming first birthday on May 13. Below is the fourth of these I received, with my introduction to the fellow […]

via Be Our Guest–In Which “Fancy” Makes Our Lives into Real World Fairy Tales — dearlilyjune