I’ll start this off by saying up until a few weeks ago I would have wanted you to give me a swift kick in the shins if I was ever caught writing ‘an open letter’ or anything similar. No shade on anyone who’s a fan of that kind of thing, in fact some of my favourite posts from other bloggers start that way – it’s just not for me. Or at least it wasn’t.

Anyway, here I am, personifying my blog. Dark days indeed.

Dear Blog; It’s Not You, It’s Me.
Me, Me, ME.

You seem to have gotten a little carried away with yourself over the last 6 months or so. I’ve seen a lot of posts that, frankly, I wish I hadn’t. You’re taking liberties, changing my voice and it’s got to stop.

Don’t get me wrong, we’ve had some good times. Thanks to you I have a freelance career, I’ve travelled and am able to stay home with my daughter. But let’s not forget who wears the trousers. I started this all – I pay the bills, come up with the ideas, burn the midnight oil and produce the cute babies. You’ve become a bit of a beast, I fear, and it’s about time someone put you in your place.

I refuse to feel the pressure to be a certain way or write about certain things. I’m not a yummy mummy, a crunchy mummy or a crafty mummy and I don’t need to be typecast, thank you very much. I can write about frivolous nonsense one day and meaningful topics the next.

From now on, here’s how it’s going to be. There will be swearing, quite a bit in fact. There will be days with no posts and days with two. I’ll be saying what I like and you can bloody well get used to the idea.



The Boss.