When Mummy doesn’t say ‘yes’ enough.

I find myself saying ‘no’ to a lot of the kids’ requests which makes me a bit sad at times, and the more times I have to say no to them, my mum-guilt tank gets topped up.

So I’m trying to say ‘yes’ more.

The problem is that it’s usually when we are just about to leave the house to go to school and Amélie (age 7) will ask to bring a toy to school, to play with at lunch time with her friends. I normally say no because a) the teachers would rather they don’t bring toys in from home and b) we are about to leave the house and I know that bringing a toy doesn’t just mean grabbing a toy, it means rifling through the drawer of small figurines for what feels like about 12 minutes while I sit by the door getting more and more irritated by her not choosing anything quickly and swearing at her in my head. Awful mummy. What I’d like to do is remember to say to her much earlier on in the morning, that if she wants to bring a toy (one small toy and nothing of great value) then she needs to choose it well before we go to leave the house. This paragraph seemed a lot more interesting in my head. Sorry about that.

Our eldest has also recently got into reading. Like reading to herself without our help. While she was reading a particular book at the weekend, I tweeted this picture of her to the author, Gwyneth Rees:

She had barely read half of the book when she asked me to buy the next one (advertised on the back of the book) and I went to say what came most naturally which was, ‘Amélie. You have about 100 books on your shelf that you’ve never read, maybe you should read those first’. But instead I said I’d look on Amazon or eBay for a second hand copy and said when she finished Mermaid Magic she could start the next one. Of course I also reminded her of the gazillion other books on her shelf but I thought, well she’s finally discovered the satisfaction of reading to herself for pleasure and I don’t want that to stop. It was £1.99 I was willing to spend to encourage a healthy habit which didn’t involve Anna or Elsa or pooing Barbies. (If you have girls you’ll know what I mean).

When it comes to weekends, we tend to want to get stuff done in the house, like cleaning the bbq ready for summer, and trying the living room furniture in a different configuration (one of Tom’s favourite past times) or needing to go to B&Q. Of course ideally this is something that Tom would go and do by himself but as I need a lot of help to do things with the children, we tend to do things all together at the weekend. And I love it. I spent quite a lot of my childhood in B&Q or Trago Mills (if you are not familiar with Cornwall or Devon life then you’ll be wondering what on Earth Trago Mills is) but it didn’t do me any harm and I think it has given me an appreciation for household diy products and hand-tools. Me and my brother had great fun watching dad choose new drill bits and sandpaper!

But diy stores aside, when the kids say ‘can we go to the park?’ Or ‘can we go to the beach?’, we are making an effort to say ‘yes’ more. Of course we did do these kind of things anyway but at the expense of letting other things not happen. Even though we might need to go to somewhere which might not spring to mind as a wholesome family attraction, we know that those things can probably wait a little and while the sun is here (remember the sun?) we make weekends about them. Even if that means me sitting in my chair watching the kids play in the sand while I look after the puppy. I absolutely love watching Tom dig massive holes and bury the kids until they can’t move (parenting hack) and them giggling as freezing sea water goes over their ankles at the shore. They will be doing things that they’ll remember when they’re grown up and think about how mummy and daddy sometimes took them to really exciting diy shops but we also had great fun at the park and at the beach. Both of which cost little to no money. Bonus!

So although sometimes we have to do stuff that isn’t on their wish-list, I think saying yes more is helping. Helping me appreciate their little quirks and discover what shenanigans they can get up to when they are given the opportunity to do something they really want. Is this even making any sense?

Perhaps most other parents already dedicate all of their spare time and weekend days to filling up their children’s excitement reserve. Maybe we have neglected to notice what they really want to do. I don’t know. I think they’re doing okay. I think just thinking about how often I tend to bark ‘nope’ at them before they’ve even finished the sentence and rethinking my response, helps.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ll still say ‘absolutely bloody not’ when Geneviève asks if she can watch Peppa sodding Pig at 6.30pm when they desperately need to get in the shower on a school night. I mean, I still need my sanity.

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The tumultuous times of toddlers

After 2 children, you’d expect me to, at least to some extent, know what to expect when it comes to toddler antics and their interesting behaviour third time around.

Rafe is 19 months old today. 19 months is an interesting age. Isn’t it? They’re starting to talk more and come out with some hilarious expressions and attempted communications. Isn’t it all supposed to be fun and games? Right now it doesn’t really feel fun. But I guess it is a bit of a game.

Guess the moan. It could be that he is hungry. Aha! Feed him I shall! Oh wait, no he won’t eat the food that I’ve just cooked for their dinner. I shall give him another biscuit to let us have 2 minutes of no moaning.

HAHAHAHA who am I trying to kid?

Even bribery with biscuity things won’t work for 50% of the time anymore.

He comes up to me and sticks his hand down my top and grabs a boob. Trouble is, I am in the middle of doing something and now is not a good time to sit exposing a bosom that will undoubtedly be nursed from for approximately 3 seconds before he gets down again. I put boob away and he moans at me to get it out again and I say ‘No, not right now’. He cries at me with his arms out and says ‘duddle’ and of course it is illegal to refuse a toddler cuddle request, and offer a cuddle. He pushes me away saying ‘no’ like I’ve just tried to make him eat a bar of soap.

Daddy, he wants daddy. Daddy comes over and picks him up, crouches down with him sat on a knee and then he shouts ‘UUUPP’. But daddy doesn’t want to stand up and walk around. Well it’s not up to the adult. The toddler thinks he should be in charge right now.

He is quiet for a good 5 minutes and you realise the peace that has ensued. Then you think ”hang on..this isn’t a good peace”. You leave the kitchen and find him in the bedroom drawing on the wall with eyeliner. Bloody societal pressure. If it wasn’t for the requirement to look *awake*, there would be no need to have eyeliner in the house. What on earth does one use to get eyeliner off matt emulsion paint?

But then, bedtime comes and with each child comes a randomly concocted night time routine of funny little quirks and rituals. I give him his last feed, if I can get him to sit still for a few moments. When he’s ready (he’ll yell ‘boobieee’ if not), one of us will shout ‘cudddddllle’ and daddy holds out his arms into which Rafe will throw himself. You have to make sure your chin and mouth are out of the firing line. He is nestled up the 6’2″ frame of daddy where he waves to me, blows kisses and in response to me saying ‘love you’, he replies “n-night!” Daddy takes him into bed where he waves goodnight to his sisters and usually lays down and is happy to take himself off to sleep after daddy says goodnight and the door is shut.

Despite having ‘the fear’ of nighttimes for over 7 years now, as you never know how successful the night will be with a baby or toddler, I think bedtime is one thing we do quite well. Our kids have been happy to be read to in which ever room story time happens in, be kissed goodnight in their bed and then left to it. They love their beds and I know that in a few weeks or months Rafe won’t really need to wake up to be told that it’s still bedtime and the night fear will be a distant memory.

They’re seriously testing our patience at times (read that as most of the bloody time), but we do love them.

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Pregnancy in a wheelchair

As a mum of 3 and an essential wheelchair, I think there’s still a lot that needs to be learned about having babies when you’re very much ‘a disabled person’.

Before my first baby, (our daughter Amélie is now 7) there was so much that we just didn’t know about what it would be like to be a pregnant wheelchair user, and go through childbirth when I can’t even stand up. Of course, any newly pregnant first-timer doesn’t really know exactly what it’ll be like, but they can be pretty sure that their experiences will normally be quite similar to other people of the same age and ability, with all the usual differences in each individual’s life. But as a wheelchair user, there was very little I could ‘look up’ online or in books and no one really I could ‘look up to’ as a realistic example of how a wheelchair-using woman might experience pregnancy and childbirth.

For the midwives and other medical professionals around me, they didn’t know much more than I could search for online about how someone with severe CMT disease would handle pregnancy and childbirth, and whilst I was under consultant care for all three of my pregnancies, the decisions were largely made by me and my midwife, deciding what would probably be the most sensible thing to do. The consultant saw me a few times during pregnancy #1 (as with the following two pregnancies) but to be honest there wasn’t much she needed to do as physically the pregnancy was pretty straightforward. The main thing we had to think about was what would happen in the birth and what help I’d need.

My midwife was amazing and supported whole-heartedly the argument that my partner, Tom, would need to be present throughout the whole thing and not asked to go home and leave me to it at any point, especially after the baby was born, which most non-disabled mums would experience. As well as the fact that dads/significant partners should be there to experience this with the mother and for their new baby’s sake, in my case Tom also needed to be there so that there was no need for health care assistants/midwives to have to use a hoist, or other equipment when it’s so much more comfortable and easier for all involved for Tom to lift me and to help with going to the toilet and showering. Luckily the matron of the labour ward agreed and he was with me constantly through all three experiences.

Physical limitations and needs aside, I don’t know what I would’ve done without him. I don’t know how any woman would be able to go through that life-changing episode without their partner.

How did the actual births of my children go?

With Amélie I was surprised at how well I coped with the pregnancy but she was a pretty small baby and my body coped well apart from pelvic pain. With the pain of childbirth it was important for me to conserve as much energy as possible, so I had an epidural which worked well once it was in, but because of the curve in my lower back it was very difficult for the anaesthetist to get it right. With our second baby, Geneviève, I was a little more uncomfortable during the later part of pregnancy as it was summer and very hot and I find it difficult to regulate my body temperature. She was also a lot bigger than Amélie! I wanted to try and give birth without an epidural, and then at the last minute decided I did want one but it was too late, so I gave birth to her with gas and air and also diamorphine. With our third baby, Rafe, who is our only boy and the biggest of all three, it was again the height of summer at the most uncomfortable part of the pregnancy and I wasn’t particularly enjoying feeling like a sweaty beached whale. Because I have to crawl from the bedroom to bathroom at night or if I’m not in my wheelchair, my wrists really took a beating with the increased weight I was carrying. I decided to go for an epidural in labour again but after nearly 2 hours of failed attempts it didn’t go into the right place in my spine and so I pushed him out just with gas and air. Ouch.

I have managed to breastfeed all three of our children, and am still feeding Rafe. The first time around it was very difficult as Amélie was such a tiny baby. But after a few weeks it became easier and it was so important for me that I could breastfeed them, seeing as there are so many other things I cannot do. Nobody else would need to feed them, and it was very integral to me bonding with them as babies.

I’m pretty sure that we’re done having babies, although if we had loads of space and money I’d love to have more and more. For now, 3 beautiful children and a new puppy is enough work (and lots of fun, of course) but it isn’t easy. There are many things I can’t do for them as a mum and I will always find that frustrating. But I know that what I can do for them will hopefully make up for all of that. And again, none of it would be possible or enjoyable without the best partner and daddy ever by my side throughout it all.

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Half-term stress no more

We’ve only just had the Christmas holidays with the kids off school but next week they’re at it again, being at home and not in the hands of their teachers for a week. A whole week.

I think I’m a bit of a stressy person and being a wheelchair user I find there are a lot of things I can’t do with the kids that I wish I could, and would certainly do if I was more able. Our kids don’t go without exciting adventurous activities, but when it comes to half-term I try and think of simple things that we can do at home, or cheaply out and about which will keep them entertained and my sanity intact.

1. Cook things. Cakes, biscuits, the evening meal, anything really. Get the kids involved in chopping food, measuring and pouring. Cooking with kids can indeed be very stress inducing but if you resign yourself to the fact that it may all go wrong, you’ll get very messy and they will undoubtedly lick their fingers and then touch the food again, anything good that comes from it is a bonus! You are not obligated to eat the food that they have helped make.

2. Go out for a colour walk. Get outside either to a park or the woods or even just into town and get the kids to collect things of every colour. A green leaf. A brown stick. A pink shell. A read leaflet. You get the idea. Make a collage at home. Channel your inner Blue Peter goddess.

3. Write a story. Each day of the week write a paragraph to a story. Have a character each that you can name and draw. Even do one story each but don’t read anything aloud until the end of the week. I think my almost 7 year old will love this. You could even type them up or scan them in if you can work a piece of technology. Scanners never work though do they.

4. Have a charity toy sort out. This is really decluttering sugar-coated as a fun activity. But your kids will probably know better which toys they still play with and which they don’t. You can even explain to them that some children don’t have money to buy toys and so we can give up some of the things we no longer need so that they can be loved by someone else. Take the children with you to the charity shop, or a local hospital to donate the toys. They’re more likely to want to help people if they can understand why it’s needed, by seeing for themselves how it is appreciated by others.

5. Make mosaics. Cut up bits of magazine, newspapers or junk mail and make beautiful coloured pictures. You could even buy some blank cards that they can make into birthday or greetings cards for their family, friends and teachers.

6. Make sock puppets. There are ALWAYS odd socks at the back of the drawer that you’ve put there in the hope that one day they will be reunited with their twins but let’s face it. It’s not happened for 6 months. It’s not going to happen. Get out the sharpie pens, glue, scissors and coloured paper and make sock monsters.

7. Make smoothies. Grab the fruit that’s going a bit brown, chuck it in the blender with some milk or yoghurt and get the kids to press the button (they always want to press the bloody button). Snack sorted.

8. Go to the beach. If you live by the coast, that is. Throw pebbles into the sea. Build rock towers. Bury your feet. By a box of 4 supermarket own-brand Cornettos for £1 and act like you’re the best parent ever for getting the kids ice cream at the beach even though it’s February. (And not been robbed of over £10 on 4 ice creams from the counter). Discreetly steal some pebbles and take them home to draw on or paint. They have now made a paperweight for Nanny’s birthday.

9. Get the kids dusting and polishing. Seriously they love it. My kids squeal with excitement if they get to ‘do the spray’. Of course, this needs to be supervised so they don’t end up spraying Mr Muscle in their eyes or drinking Dettol, but kids enjoying cleaning can only be a good thing. Just remember to keep the products out of reach of very little ones, but they can certainly use a cloth to do some questionable wiping. My parents used to let me and my brother tie dusters to our feet and slide around the French parquet flooring in our hallway. Great fun.

10. Read books! It’s the simplest thing ever but I remember being at my Gran’s for half term as my mum had to work still, and we’d walk to the local library and pick up a few books and I’d lay back fully reclined in my Granddad’s La-Z-Boy arm chair and reading entire Babysitters Club books in one day (I was very proud of myself). But there was no Sky TV or Netflix or apps to play on. There were real books and my brother and I loved it, despite trying to claim we were bored. Having said that…

“But Mummy I’m booored”

11. Let them be bored. Like I’ve just said, I remember being bored as a child. But in hindsight this was definitely not a bad thing. I think kids need to be bored from time to time. They don’t need constant entertainment and amusement all day every day. I do most of my best thinking and mental planning when I’m bored in the car on long journeys (if Rafe is asleep and the girls aren’t arguing). But I think a bit of ‘boredom time’ is good for their brains. It gets them thinking. It gets them inspiring and motivating themselves to do something else and use their imagination. Kids have fabulous ideas of their own. If you let them get a little bored every now and then, they’ll access those little sparks of ingenuity.

12. Put a movie on. There is absolutely nothing wrong with putting trashy TV or a cheesy film on for the kids whilst you get the proper housework done or if you need to sit and chill for a bit or feed the little one. Children won’t turn into vegetables just because they’ve had a bit more screen time than in their usual week. If they are really into a funny game on the ipad then let them indulge themselves. There are also loads of apps available that look like games but are actually teaching little ones basic maths, phonics and music skills. My daughter uses Times Tables Rock Stars at school and also at home on the iPad and it is very game-like whilst also getting her maths up to speed, and more.

13. Open a home beauty salon. This is where you cover the house in newspapers and allow the children to paint your nails. Or let them loose with the hair-stuff box and attack you with 3000 hair clips, which you’ll still be pulling out of your own hair at 9pm. Look how pretty…

I think those are most of the things I’ll be doing with the kids in half term. Of course there will also be the inevitable food shop with children that I can’t avoid, and because of the stress that might cause, we will probably also go for brunch in Wetherspoons on one of the days. Who would’ve thought pancakes and maple syrup in a gastro-pub would be such a good bribe for good behaviour.

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Is it because he’s a boy?

I have 3 kids. The youngest of whom is nearly 17 months. He is a ‘he’. The other two are girls and despite my best efforts to not classify some of his behaviour as just ‘being a boy’ (which I really hate hearing. They’re children, they’re all different and I don’t want to be told that boys or girls will necessarily behave a certain way because of their being born a girl or a boy), he definitely seems to have a very specific difference in his personality in that he won’t stop climbing. On everything. Everything. The dining table. The coffee table. The bedside table. The TV stand. The bookshelf. My desk. Me. The shoe box. The other shoe box. The stairs. The toilet. His sister’s bed. Our sanity.

Call the Health and Safety brigade!

Some of it, is fine. It doesn’t bother me that he constantly wants to climb on his sister’s bed. In fact it’s quite cute. He climbs up, gets under the covers and lays his head down. It will be lovely when he’s big enough for his own bed. For now, he still sleeps in his cot (Haha! I say ‘sleep’, and then I laugh to myself and say ‘don’t lie to the readers of your blog. He doesn’t sleep!’) but bizarrely his cot is pretty much the only piece of furniture he hasn’t tried to scale. Yet. He probably will have by the time I publish this.

We thought, stupidly I guess, that getting out the little slide for him to climb up, and slide down gleefully would suppress his desire to climb everything else. But we were wrong.

We thought, stupidly I guess, that being away in a different environment for the holidays at Christmas would mean that once we got back, he might be over this phase and not be bothered by walking along the dining table every 3 minutes. But nope.

We thought, stupidly I guess, that removing him and saying firmly ‘No. We don’t climb on there/get down/we sit on chairs’ for about 4 months now, would mean that he may have gotten the memo by now. He did not get the memo. The memo was quite bloody obvious but was ignored.

He is pretty much disinterested in anything which doesn’t involve physical exertion. Play with other, actual toys is short-lived.

He played with the calculator for about 27 seconds.

One day, he had better be some sort of sporting hero, or an explorer famed for his courageous ascent of Everest in just his pyjamas or something. Then when he’s rich he can pay for our psychological therapy for these times when he drove us completely fucking mental because he just will not give it a rest.

Currently all 8 of our dining chairs are laying on their backs on the floor. The room looks untidy and like it’s got squatters living in it (we’ll blame his sisters for that bit), but despite not having any chairs to clamber on, he’ll find something else.

I’m pretty sure this wouldn’t be driving me quite so mad if I was able to easily grab him off of each thing he climbs up in a split-second. But being in a wheelchair makes grabbing a toddler from the middle of the dining table pretty difficult. Even more so because I don’t have much use of my hands either. Maybe I should explain to him about discrimination and mummy not being able to pluck him off of the bookshelf and how unfair this kind of behaviour is to me as a disabled parent he might rethink his decisions. Yeah right.

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What happened in 2017

First of all, where the hell has this year gone? I know everyone goes on about year flying by and years going by faster when you’ve had children especially.

But I’m quite seriously a little worried that physically, time is actually going faster. I mean literally… Literally literally.

I don’t feel like enough has happened to fill up 12 months, but I guess a lot has happened.

Just after the new year in January my partner’s family went through a really scary time with an immediate member of the family. They are my family too. We were expecting the worst, and although the worst didn’t happen, we almost lost somebody fundamental to my partner’s life and a lot was lost. I spent a long time being petrified of every phonecall whilst my partner was away, and above all terrified at how this would affect him. Knowing that I couldn’t fix it for him was awful.

I can’t quite believe that it is almost a year since it happened.

What else happened in 2017?

Well, Rafe turned into a proper baby-toddler person and not just a vegetable. He started walking at 10 months. Then he started climbing shortly after. He has not yet stopped climbing. Our favourite phase became “get down”, much like when you have a dog. Except unlike a dog, bribery with food items was short lived and now he just laughs in our faces. He is so much more mischievous than the girls were. It’s a good job he’s cute.

I started making YouTube videos. Well, I say start – I started a few years ago and only uploaded videos sporadically but I love the satisfaction and buzz you get from filming and editing your own little movies and with my trusty Tom by my side teaching me how to do a lot of it, I’ve started making videos much more often. Hopefully 2018 will see another increase in the amount and quality of videos Tom and I can make. Mostly to do with our life with three kids and me being a disabled mum but with the odd Poundland/Primark Haul thrown in. Just because I am a woman I guess.

In 2017 I had a bit of a first in that I spoke at the WOW Women of the World Festival in Exeter, where I was part of two separate panels talking to audiences about childbirth experiences and about the Women’s Rights Movement marginalising disabled women. It was scary, nerve-wracking but apart from all that I am so glad I did it. I hate speaking in front of groups of people and I think I always will. Yet for some reason I want to be involved again and do more things like that. I’m hoping to be involved in the CMT (the neurological disease I have) Festival in some way in April.

I won a long-standing annual family tournament which might not sound like much to those outside the family, but it’s quite the event and I love seeing everyone get involved each year.

Amélie, our eldest was the bravest of brave girls having double eye surgery and took it all in her stride. She also got moved up into one of the gymnastics squad groups and I have loved seeing her finally get that fire in her belly to do better. She is doing marvellous work in school and has grown in confidence so much.

Geneviève is in her last year of nursery before starting proper school in September. Bizarrely the prospect of Geneviève starting school feels more scary than when Amélie started. I’m looking forward to seeing her joyous little face as she learns to write her own name properly. We’re getting there but the poor child has quite the mountain to climb there with all the Es under the sun. At least she’ll be almost 5 when September comes.

So here’s to another year of all that comes with having three kids and hopefully making more time to be creative and productive.

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Speaking in public when you hate people looking at you.

In October I spoke in public, in front of audiences, with people and everything! Real people! It was the Southbank Centre’s very own Women of the World festival. I also met some fabulous people with whom I hope to remain friends and keep in contact.

Saturday’s talk was about Birth Stories. We only had an hour to discuss all sorts around the topic, talk about our experiences and answer questions from the audience, and we could’ve carried on much longer given the time but I think between the three of us we managed to get some interesting points out there. The three of us being myself, Marianne Stephen who is an Obstetrician currently working in Devon but who has delivered and saved many lives in some of the poorest, most politically unstable and volatile countries in the world, and finally Katie Villa, who is a mum of two, a theatre director at Quirk Theatre and performer, she chaired the panel.

Just before we were due to start the discussion though, Genevieve, our 4-year-old decided to fall and cut her head open on the edge of a windowsill about a foot off the floor. There was a fair amount of blood, it was all very dramatic looking but she was very brave. Daddy’s first aid skills came in handy as he was handed a first-aid kit by a slightly shocked-looking technician working at the festival. He stopped it bleeding and used his until-then-unpracticed bandaging skills to give her a suitable head wrapping. I was surprisingly calm about the whole thing with the child and the bleeding head and everything – I think the impending speaking-to-an-audience distracted me from thinking that this was the worst thing that could’ve just occurred. Kids have the best timing, don’t they?! Well, mine definitely seem to.

One day down, one to go.

After some lunch and a quick look round Primark (obviously) we went back to the theatre and watched Liz Carr in an interview with WOW Founder Jude Kelly – it was during this fascinating discussion in the auditorium with a much larger audience than when I had spoken the day before, that I realised this is where I’d be talking on the other panel the next day, with Liz Carr herself, talking about how the Women’s Rights movement often forgets about disabled women.

Fast forward to Sunday, Mum was also there to watch me this time, as well as Tom and the children, and I was a lot more nervous since I knew the potential audience size.

I went in by myself about 15 minutes early, and met my fellow panel members – Liz Carr, actor, comedian and disability rights activist, Clair Beckett, dancer and yoga teacher who has recently been diagnosed with Tourette’s Syndrome, and Michelle Daley, a founding member of Sisters of Frida who are a collective of disabled women creating a network of fellow women with disabilities in order to share experiences, provide support and try to take away the copious amounts of bureaucracy and discrimination we face on a daily basis. Michelle was chairing this panel.

The lights were really bright and in-your-face, though they were turned down; I actually found this quite helpful as I couldn’t see the audience staring at me and I could just pretend I was talking to a bright white light, as you do.

The discussion went really well, I think, although looking back at the footage of the talk that Tom filmed for me, there were moments where I completely lost my train of thought -Ironically whilst talking about this blog, at one point! I tend to ramble a bit when I don’t have a plan of exactly what I want to say but hopefully, no one noticed. In hindsight, I wish I had been a lot more prepared in what I would say, but in my defence, I didn’t get emailed some of the information that went into more detail about the questions the chair speaker would ask. And of course, you cannot predict what questions might come from the audience. Also, I do have a tendency to stumble over what I’m saying when lots of people are watching me talk, and I hate it, which is why I hardly ever do it!

It was, of course, brilliant to meet Liz Carr, (and also Clair Beckett and Michelle Daley) but meeting somebody that you’ve known of for years, and who you never expected to be able to work alongside in this capacity was really very exciting.

All in all, I think the weekend went very smoothly if you take out the crying toddler and the child who cut her head open. I can forgive them for that because of course, they are particularly beautiful and funny children if I do say so myself. If only they’d realise how tricky it was for me to mentally prepare to talk to an audience!

To see some of the footage from the weekend please watch the video on my YouTube channel. WOW Festival Vlog.

I’m hoping The Southbank Centre’s WOW Festival will have me back next year. The children will be bubble-wrapped and I might invest in a personal microphone.

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