Dreams can come true

Single motherhood and tiredness go hand-in-hand but this week has been a doozy. The full moon brought bizarre dreams, insomnia and crazy ideas spinning in my head. This week I turned into zombie mother with visions of weirdness every night.

In one dream I opened a tiny white cardboard box in my undie drawer and found a singing bug, some kind of mite whose 10,000 cousins decided to sing opera with him. I’m sure it was a him. I tried to close the box but every time I shut it, the mite and his mates forced the box open so they could keep singing. Who knew Christmas drinks could cause those kind of dreams? I don’t even have an undie drawer. Egg nog anyone? Bottoms up


Don’t Dream It, Be It

When I was 15 I used to sneak out late at night with my girlfriends to watch the midnight screening of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. We dressed up in tutus and high heels, we sang, we sweated, we laughed and we danced. And my mother never did find out. Until now. Years later I was working in London and the phone rang and I instantly recognised the voice on the other end of the phone. It was Tim Curry. I couldn’t speak so I passed the phone to a colleague who laughed when she realised who I should have been talking to. Thank you Mr Curry for the joy you brought to my teenage years. Rose tint my world, keep me safe from the trouble and pain.