Last night it was 1 am and I was parked on the side of a country road in what appeared to be the middle of nowhere, and I had vomit on my shoes… for the record it was not my vomit and I’m not sure if this makes it better or worse. For a brief moment, in the silences between the noise of my three year old emptying the contents of his stomach onto to the grass next to me, I had to wonder, how the hell did I get here. The rational side of my brain knows how I got here, we all take a series of steps, we all make choices, we put one foot in front of the other and create the rich tapestry that becomes our life. But how I went from a small town in the North of England, to the backwoods of Michigan, via the bright lights of every major city in the world, sometimes is a mystery even to me and for better or worse I was there every step of the way. How did I get from working on Hollywood Blockbusters and circus acts, to making cheese and stomping around the countryside in muck boots (Oh how I would killed for them last night)
At different points in my life I have been defined as different things. I have been a painter, a cheese maker, a depressed mess, a photographer, a traveler, a mum, a wife, a prop maker, a cook, a friend, a crap friend, a drama queen, a Londoner, an immigrant. So many labels, so many ways to define who I am and sometimes choosing which one fits is really hard. I am writing not because I am lost, but because I am at a cross roads, figuratively (and at that moment in time literally) between my past life and my new one. I don’t think I want to be defined as just one thing anymore. So here it is, my blog, a collection of everything that is me, not just one thing fitting into one box…. here is all of it. I’m going to throw it all at the wall – past and present, and see what sticks.
Today is my 38th birthday, lets see what happens next.