Happy Birthday Hannah

Today is Hannah's birthday.

If you're doing the maths, yes, she's 37, or, as the kids say, pushing 40. I know she'll hate that but as I'm pushing 50, I don’t think she'll mind too much. 

We've celebrated nine birthdays together now, which feels both impossible and completely right. This blog carries seven of those years before her, but, at this point, it's difficult to remember what life looked like before Hannah. She's woven herself into every part of my life. I often feel like I've been with her for so much longer. Maybe knowing her as a blogger has done that. Maybe it's just how we are together. 

Midge Got the Job

Fifteen months ago, Midge finished the first year of a Beauty Therapy course at college. She did really well but struggled with the physicality. As she looked ahead to the second year, it became clear that some aspects of the course weren't going to work alongside her health needs. It wasn't that she couldn't do the work. It was that reasonable adjustments and understanding were in short supply. Her tutor just wouldn’t adjust. The attitude seemed to be, "This is how we've always done it. We can’t change it." She could have. It wasn’t hard. I wanted to fight, like I have done for James and Arty. Midge didn't. She wanted to move on.

He's My Husband First: Reflections Of A Carer

Martyn asked me a very long time ago to write him a post about being a carer. As an award-winning procrastinator, I had successfully avoided this task for a good few months. Until now.