I am not Spanish, nor do I speak Spanish. Don’t be fooled for an instant. I’m a Brit (of mixed English, Welsh and a teensy bit of Scottish ancestry) who moved to Ireland with her family at the age of seven, and I have been here pretty much ever since.
I’m about 5’3, I have brown eyes and hair (unless I’m going through a ‘trying to dye it red’ phase) and, currently, nine tattoos. I have had eczema since birth so I scratch a lot, unconsciously most of the time. I speak a bit of Irish, a bit of French and almost no German, although I understand quite a lot. I live about twelve miles south of Dublin with my husband, two children, and three dogs who we have rehomed from rescue centres. One is a Rottweiler/Labrador cross named Honey, who is five. She is my baby, my first ever just-for-me dog. Sadly, she loves her daddy much more than she loves me but I love her too much to care! The next to arrive was a Rottweiler/German Shepherd cross who is just two. Her name is Fudge and she contributed greatly to the decline in standards within the household during her puppyhood; thankfully, she’s a bit more sedate these days although the walls, doors and garden still bear their scars. The third is an Akita/German Shepherd cross named Oberon, or Ronnie for short. He’s a rock star: incredibly good looking but otherwise a bit dim. After renting a house for many years, I finally put down roots for the children and I in January 2011 by buying a house called ‘Thalia’ - who was one of the three Graces and the muse of comedy but probably only if you were an ancient Greek – where we will all live happily ever after. We’re doing well so far, although not at all as I would have imagined.
I love quiet, and peace, and books, dogs and colour, plants, and textures, llamas, wombats, tea, grass under my feet, Doc Marten’s, little bells on brightly coloured strings, higgledy-piggledy houses with nooks & crannies, long hot baths and cool Autumn days, my children, my cat and tarot cards, overflowing bookcases and blue toenail polish, the scent of Verbena, and clear quartz crystals, earrings, pear cider, prawns and Chinese duck with pancakes, tattoos, Land Rover Defenders and Audi R8s, Fat Face clothes and hemp shopping bags, the colour turquoise and gorgeous fresh lime green, brown cordouroy and red cotton, snow, and the sound of rain on the window when I’m reading in bed, naps on Summer Sundays when the curtains billow in a fresh breeze and the sound of lawnmowers buzz in the distance, box sets of DVDs that absorb your focus and capture your imagination, silver, and sapphires, driving, and my Blackberry Curve, dreadlocks with beads, Soul music, my rainbow striped handbag, and Pacifica’s Mediterranean Fig solid perfume.
I am 36. Just. My birthday’s in November.
I married my husband in May 2002. We have known each other since we were about sixteen and everyone said ‘awww!’ when we got hitched. (Except my parents who said, “What on earth are you doing, and why?”) We separated in 2005 after a very dubious three years together. Both being determined to be as good a parent as we could be, we have been stuck with each other to a greater or lesser degree since then, seeing each other most days whether we wanted to or not, and, in January 2012, realised that, actually, there was something there that we weren’t quite done with. In fact, it was something new completely, bred out of a hard-won maturity and the opportunity to actually see one another clearly for the first time in years. Round two (or is it three? I’ve lost track) is on!
In January 2010, after five years of singleness, I fell in love with an Irish man. He had a lot on his plate in our time together, and he was kind and gentle and good. Our relationship lasted for over a year but, eventually, it closed through lack of interest in the summer of 2011, pushed to one side by things that had to be more of a priority. He’s a good man, though, and you will find the initial stages of our togetherness chronicled here. He is TRM. I have, rather distressingly, got a bit of a Thing for Engineers. It invariably leads to trouble. Did I mention I have a degree in Theology?
I am incredibly, terribly, awfully lazy and I gave up feeling overly guilty about it many years ago despite the best attempts of my mother. Hence, you may not see this blog updated for long periods of time. It doesn’t mean I’ve given up, it just means I’ve found something else to do for a while – I’ll be back when I’m ready.