I live with my family in a small village on the Quantock Hills in Somerset. I keep poultry, rabbits, a husband and children. I grew up on a smallholding, just down the road from where we live now. My mother and sister still live there and give us a lot of help with the children. If you know us in real life, you will know that Ally and B are not our real names. But for the sake of internet pseudonyms, you'll just have to put up with me pretending they are.
Our five year old daughter has an undiagnosed
genetic condition that I have split out in to another page. She is mostly tube-fed, through a gastrostomy tube. I write about her first, because our whole life is formed around having a child with special needs. Our six year old son resents being an 'also ran'; is fearsomely bright; not sure where his personal space ends and other people's begins; and wants to take care of us all.
My husband is a recently retired lighting designer who after four years in the country is *still* struggling to come to terms with the fact that living in a rural community means that everyone knows what colour pants you wear.
I have had a convoluted working life - 'career' gives it too much dignity - that started with selling eggs from my hundred ex-battery hens when I was fifteen; cycled through degrees in archaeology, IT and science-fiction; programming geographical information systems; teaching IT in the community; working in the entertainment industry as a technician; and is now back to where I began, keeping hens and selling their eggs. I keep a few different flavours of chickens, ducks and quail that I breed and sell. I have an egg stall at the local farmers' market. I teach people about keeping hens. I have recently, much to my husband's disgust, branched out in to meat rabbits.
I'm also trying to make it as a writer. There. I said it. Time-travelling gay romance in a noir setting. Don't laugh.
In 2014 I aim to grow most of our own veg myself and only eat meat from my own animals or directly from the animals of people I know. I knit stuff. I inexpertly wet-felt stuff. I beat myself up for what I don't manage to achieve on a regular basis. I suffer from fibromyalgia and depression, which pisses me off. I love my kids and my husband to distraction and they drive me insane.
Um. That's it. I appreciate comments. They let me know I'm alive.