About why there’s no time to blog.

This blog is dedicated to all who wish there were at least 28 hours in a day. Because they’re dynamic or just because they’re exhausted and never get more than 5 hours sleep a night.

I am one of them – exhausted that is – and a forty-something English journalist and copywriter, somewhat surprised to still be living in France after nearly 20 years. I run my own copywriting business with Mr. Right (more later) and am trying to get my second novel started and my first novel published. I have three children – Fashionista, 16, the Duracell Kid, 14, and Clapperkin, 5. Then there’s my stepdaughter, 17 year-old Rebelle. Believe me, that’s a lot of school runs, taxi-driving, bedtime stories, advice on boys, homework supervision and tantrums. I wonder which are worse, teenage or three-year-old tantrums?

Add to the mix French red-tape (goes down a lot less easily than French red wine), my attempts to swim 40 lengths every now and then, being roped into the school library rota and a desire to speak to Mr. Right every now and then and there really is no time to blog. But I’m hooked. Hope you soon will be.


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