What's in a name?

I was telling somebody the other day about my starting to write a blog and found myself struggling to say what it was about.  I know that it SHOULD be about SOMETHING because then the people who are interested in that SOMETHING would want to read it.  However, I am interested in lots of things and like finding out stuff about lots of other things that I know nothing about so to try and write a blog on just one subject seems tedious and rather difficult.  If I tell you that the three things I want to do this year are to learn to fly a hawk, ride sidesaddle and deliver a lamb (not simultaneously), it will probably tell you a little about my weird mind. 
This person I was talking to about blogs is very specific about hers.  It exists to show people how to apply makeup.  She was somewhat unimpressed with my makeup attempts and less impressed to discover that as I never now go out in the evenings, that I don't need to have an 'evening makeup' look on standby.  Apparently, my back up eye make up of green eyeshadow is so passe as to be barely worth scoffing over.  It's all about 'smokey romantic' now, don't you know?
I got to telling her that my blog is called '6 pm pyjamas' because, for me, that is the main change in my life since having children - ending the day at 6 and being ready for bed.  This is less fun when it doesn't get dark till after 10 in the summer by the way.  When they are little, as mine still are, bedtime routines are the lodestone of happiness.  Get this right and you sleep well, they sleep well and everybody is happy.  Get it wrong and as all the books will tell you (if you can stay awake long enough to read), life will not be worth living.  So, for the past seven years or so, we have started storytime around 6 and even though now school routines impinge upon that and often we are not even home till 6.30 (do you have any idea how many after school activities a 6 year old can chalk up in a week?  Football, cricket, rugby, swimming, drama, gymnastics, riding and don't forget the judo all mean bedtimes get later.  But one thing is certain, apart from that delicious one evening a week when I find myself at the cinema (not in pyjamas... yet), being in pyjamas at the same time as the children, snuggling down to read and trying to forget the work day is a special thing indeed.  All is right with the world as the lights are extinguished and only Classic FM intrudes into the dream darkness.


  1. Another good one. You're good at this blogging thing.


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