Hitting the in-law jackpot in the lottery of life

A bonus long weekend post in honour of my nephew Tom and his mother – my friend – Anne

A gift like Anne comes along once in a lifetime

An in-law who becomes a close friend, confidante and partner-in-crime. From the day we met, we got the point of each other. We laughed at each other’s jokes, shared each other’s pain (including a common mother-in-law), went on holidays together and shared a brood of children who were best mates and just happened to be first cousins.

Two smiling women with their arms around each other and a champagne bucket in the foreground

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Crushed raspberry moments: Giving yourself permission to shine

The last time I was house sitting in this rural pocket of Normandy, it was three years ago in the height of summer.

The raspberry canes in the vegetable patch yielded masses of delicious berries from July through to September. I would come up from the garden with my mouth and fingers stained deep crimson – ‘crushed raspberry’ – and my bowl full to overflowing with garden produce.

fresh, vegetables, raspberries, beetroot, garden, produce, France | See more at www.diywoman.net

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Time out: Fitting your own oxygen mask before assisting others

I’m sitting in a cafe in Montmartre.

I’m taking time out from a hectic travel schedule. From my table at the window I look out at a Sunday market in the tiny Place Lino Ventura. A full length mirror is placed outside a clothes stall directly in my line of vision. A middle aged woman trying on a leopardskin coat transforms before my eyes. She swings it this way and that, coming alive in front of the looking glass. She isn’t thinking about the shopping, the cooking or the week ahead. Suddenly radiant in the light Parisian drizzle, I imagine she is thinking about where such a coat might take her.

Woman, time out, leopardskin, coat, Montmartre | See more at www.diywoman.net

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Speaking up

No matter the size of a family, the role of each of its members will be unique.

The good girl, the pleaser, little girl, speaking up | See more at diywoman.net

If the firstborn is a dictator, the second will be something else. Once a job description has been filled, another must be created. One might be the high achiever, the next might be the peace-maker and so on. I was the third of five children; the good girl; the little sister who knew her place; the older sister who indulged her younger brothers; the good student who wanted to do well. Let’s face it – I was the pleaser. My twin desires to do well and to please instilled in me a rather suspect work ethic. Combined with my ‘look at moy’ attitude, I must have driven my school friends crazy.

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