More than Writers

Weekends away. Before I became a writer, these were the kind of things I could only dream of. When we moved up to Suffolk in 2006, I had a toddler and a baby and every day was a non-stop round of crying, tantrums, refusal to eat a particular foodstuff and reluctance to go to bed. The children had their moments too.   As they grew, so did our catering business, necessitating our absence most weekends to go and cook for other people. We added in another child in 2008 just to make sure that life would never be dull. Most Saturday nights, we would be in someone’s house or at a party venue surrounded by happy, smiling folk enjoying their weekends away and that was lovely, of course. But from time to time, I would wonder if I would ever be the kind of person who packed a small suitcase and a good book and made my way to a conference centre somewhere in, oh I don’t know, the East Midlands.   Dear readers, I am now that person! Yes! My dream has come true. My blog today, by the mira...