Eight years ago today, a standard sized pack of Original Pringles cost a mere 75p. This is no guess, nor is it an estimate. It isn’t a rose-tinted, warped idealist recollection, either. It is a FACT. I know this because Read more
Little Seymour Number One went to an audition when she was about seven, for a small part in a local church’s nativity-cum-pantomine extravaganza. Grandma took her along, because Grandma’s friend was running the show, and when Number One returned home Read more
The Four Little Seymours are not bad kids. OK, they have their faults, like we all do. A lot of the faults are tech-related, or revision-related – you, know, the usual kind of stuff. Luckily, we are yet to experience Read more
January 2024! By gosh, that feels very futuristic. Like a movie set in space, or a story by George Orwell. But no. Here we are, two thousand and twenty four years after the birth of Little Baby Jesus, or thereabouts, Read more
Yesterday, my brother presented me with a copy of Matt Haig’s Reasons to Stay Alive. In handing it over, he gave a brief description of its general theme (the author suffered with his mental health) and then caveat-ed his verbal Read more
Have you ever stopped to ponder how things can go so spectacularly tits up in such a small space of time? It is something that happens to me a lot, and this morning was no exception. We were rushing out Read more
A couple of weeks ago, I started my new job. After a funny few months of change, adjustment, general discombobulation and some madness, I made the eminently sensible decision to get a new job. A fresh challenge, after all, is Read more
Little Seymour Number One is now nineteen. She has completed a year at university and made wonderful friends, fully embracing all the changes that have been hurled her way. She’s adapted to leaving home, starting a degree and being self-sufficient. Read more
SATs are looming for Mini Seymour. I know, I can’t believe it either! Surely she is still only three? But no, it seems she has some grown-up assessments coming soon, and I will declare right here that she is by Read more
It comes to something when your eighteen year-old daughter refers to you as an “old goblin”. The imagery conjured up in these two words is simple yet effective. Old says it all, and as for goblin? It’s a decidedly clunky Read more