Good Enough

We spend a quarter of our lives in childhood and three quarters getting over it.  There is no milestone to which I can pin the underlying sense of not being good enough.  Our father ran my brother and I like we were part of a platoon; just the two of for goodness sake, I mean…

The Games We Played

At this point in my education school was about besting personal scores in a range of playground games and get involved in the hum of recess activities.  The games we played required neither electricity nor batteries,  just wide open spaces, and a few basic props. At the beginning of every term my mother packed school uniforms,…

Music and Drama

My love of music and drama were nurtured and encouraged at home initially and when I attended St Andrews school the curriculum carried my interest forward.  The gramophone in its lacquered cabinet held pride of place in the lounge at home and it was a rare day that it was not used, if not by…

On Being Heard

Do you find it difficult to be heard?  I am not a person who enjoys loud noise, parties or loud people, nor for that matter neither am I person who has brilliant ideas at a moment’s notice.  Sometimes I find myself being a little envious of those people who seem to pop with brilliance given a moment’s notice.  It’s not that…

St Andrew’s Prep School (1)

Boarding School Part 1 and Part 2 are precursors to this third post relating to my boarding school years and form part of my life story. *** The road trip from Kaptagat Prep School to the Nairobi airport was memorable for the speed at which we travelled. My father held his foot firmly on the…

Strawberry Renovation

Last night we enjoyed a harvest from the strawberry bath and tubs;  red, juicy and big too.  We topped them with coconut yoghurt imagined we were in heaven. A friend in our writing group was renovating her wheelbarrow of strawberries and gave us about twenty new runners.  The MOTH (Man of The House) and I nicknamed our friend…