Bog Days

Once they rounded the twisty corner they would see it, stretching as far as the eye can see. The Bog , infamous, mysterious and mucky. A stretch of marshy damp brown soil where once ancient majestic Irish forests stood.

Being Three

I hear him in the background as I try to steal half an hour to myself. Its Sunday and we have not left the house. Its the usual way on a Sunday, we potter about trying to get organised for the week ahead. He is "reading" a story to his older brother. The book seems... Continue Reading →

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