Miss Cherry Red

Apparently I should use this part to tell you how wonderful and super I am.

And I am.  To my daughter.

To everyone else: I’m just me.

I live in a top floor apartment in my own little pocket of Reading with my hyperactive, nosey and funny 3 year old, Keira and J (sometimes referred to as The Hot Geek).  I don’t have pets – our building doesn’t allow them.  Unless you’re the homosexual man who occupies the apartment below me in which case you’re allowed three yappy Pomeranian ‘dogs’ (I use the term dog loosely) and a fat ginger cat.

I used to be an individual.

I used to be carefree and single.

I used to have a packed social diary and enough money in my purse to always buy fabulous shoes.

Note I say used to.

That part of my life is a distant memory.  A fond (if sometimes fuzzy) distant memory.

There are a million things I want to do in life.  I want to travel.  Be a journalist (it’s what I studied at University).

I am both overly opinionated and nosey by nature.

I can’t help it.  I blame my Irish heritage – they’re the nosiest nationality on earth – I don’t know anyone other than an Irishman who could unwittingly get you to tell them you’re entire life story without actually knowing it.

Everyday realities like motherhood remind me that my dreams need remain just that:  dreams.

And I’m alright with that.

So I’ll write about my life as a mum, a girlfriend and the crap that life chucks at me life’s little challenges.

I’m guessing if you’ve found your way here that you’re not the sensitive kind.  I will share a lot with you.  And I will use profanity.  If I can’t say ‘fuck’ in the comfort of my own home for fear that Keira will repeat it, then I’m damn well going to use it here if I want to.

So grab yourself a drink, settle back and see what life has to offer here..

Love,

Miss Cherry Red x

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