|| Mumma Daze ||

It's nice when you find a friend. It's really shit when you realise they aren't a good one. Defining the moment when you've made a friend is tough. It is a relationship after all, but unlike a boyfriend/girlfriend relationship (words escape me) there's no requirement for a question to be posed... "Will you be my friend?" unless you're maybe 5 or 6 years of age in a playground. Why oh why don't we retain that precious vulnerability to continue to ask that question? If you *think* you've made a friend, you likely have. Is it that easy? Sure! Do they laugh with you? Break bread with you? (figuratively - common tongue would be - do you share food or drink together?) Do they support you when things aren't always perfect? That's a friend. Do they talk behind your back about you? Not a friend. Do they ignore you when you're in their presence? Not a friend. Do they change the story depending on who they speak to? Not a friend.

Did you sing it? And so this is Christmas Easter...what have we done? It's at these times of year that I crave the seeming simplicity of generations or years gone by. When long weekends such as these meant the shops really were closed, that you really couldn't go out for lunch, that there wasn't anywhere else to be - except present. Now, every long weekend is fraught with plans. Who gets first dibs to host the family get-together, the friends get-together. Did you leave it too late and now everyone is busy and you haven't been included? Which two hour window of which day can you see each family group? Will you get any time at all to just unwind? How many odd jobs around the house can we fit in? Should we go camping like everyone else and then spend two days on the road in the most horrendous traffic of the year? My intentions are always to bring back some of that missing simplicity. With the thought that perhaps if I set the scene, everyone can enjoy it. Sh