Of course I’m not … you know …

I mean, I'm almost 49. My womb has been razed to the ground by a metal device heated to 180C. It's more barren than Donald Trump's heart. But, there's something about your mum saying "maybe you're pregnant" that makes an anxious over thinker anxiously over think. Especially when your medically trained significant other (who doesn't... Continue Reading →

Tongue-tied

I haven't felt able to blog over the past few days. My mojo deserted me last week and with it went any desire or ability to tap out a post. I'm pretty sure it's chemical. I'm less than two months away from turning 49 and my body - and mind - is betraying me as... Continue Reading →

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