I started this blog at the age of 30. I had a life-changing adventure in South America. But that’s over a decade ago now.
I’m married now. Back in the UK. I met a friend of a friend at a wedding. How cliched. We had the most interesting conversation I’d had in a long time. My friend rang me the next day to tell me “He’s got 5 kids and he’s had a vasectomy!!! You need to know what you’re getting into!!” I’m just going for a drink with him I replied.
Some years later, my calm, gentlemanly father shouted across the farm yard that he would disown me if I married him.
My husband is divorced and of Indian-via-Kenya heritage. We had a cultural mash up of a wedding, at my family farm (my father relented), bollywood in a barn, curry in an old dairy, in-laws from south of Watford ventured into God’s Own County. The wind blew dark clouds and brought some smatterings of wet. People danced to keep warm. The following day the sun shone bright. And my father’s heart stopped working.
He had a pace-maker fitted while we were on honeymoon.
If you want to be a bridezilla don’t marry yourself a set of step kids. Kids change everything in any relationship you’ve ever had. You have to give them chance. You have to consider them. You can’t be selfish in the same way you could before. Hence I don’t have a wedding photo where my dress and train aren’t obscured by a trio of new step-daughter-bridesmaids taking centre stage – short people to the front the photographer must have said, – blocking out my outfit from the neck down.
I’d like to write about this step-parenting thing and about life in a relationship of mixed racial blended heritage/culture, or whatever you think it should be called. I don’t see much written on this topic really, and it is a particular, specific, quirky, thing. So that’s what this blog is for.
More adventures 