Tempus Fugit

And suddenly, my baby is 18.

It's a strange feeling. Looking at my daughter and realising she is, in fact, a fully-grown adult about to leave home. My daughter spent her 18th birthday with the obligatory lockdown 'party' - five friends shivering in the garden sitting two metres apart sipping Passionfruit Martinis. Not quite the mad celebration she imagined. But the grace and stoicism with which she accepted it made me proud.

It seems only ten minutes ago that she was a baby. My husband and I brought her home from hospital, carfully wrapped up against the cold. We nicknamed her 'Beanie' because she was like a little bean, all curled up. We deposited her in the middle of the sofa surrounded by pillows and looked down at her sleeping face. Both of us were thinking the same thing: "Now what?"

As the years unfolded we experienced the joy of her first words, her first steps, her first bike ride. We taught her how to read, brush her teeth, tie her own shoelaces. And we learned things too: her elbows dislocated freakishly easily and headlice are buggers to get rid of.

As she got older, the lessons changed. Don't drink too much, don't stay out too late, wear a coat or you'll catch your death. Who are you with? Isn't that skirt a bit short?! She accused me of nagging when I got upset that she wasn't home when she said she'd be, or when I wouldn't let her go to parties in London till the early hours with strangers. She thought I was paranoid when I demanded to know where she was at all times so I knew she was okay.

Teenagers think they're immortal, don't they?!

She taught me and her dad things too. She's funny. She's smart. She's fundamentally a fair and decent person. She and her fellow youths are determined to make a better world. They fiercely believe in equality and opportunity for all. And they're willing to demand change if things aren't right. My daughter, like many of the younger generation, is a firm believer that governments have to do more to halt global warming and she often went on marches and signed petitions. I know protests arent limited to young folk but honestly, to see her and her compatriots take to the streets made me hopeful that the world is in good hands.

Like every other A-level student in the UK, she completed her teacher-led assessments under the cloud of lockdown. Now we have to wait to see if she has the grades she needs to go to Manchester University, the place she's set her heart on. Wherever she goes, I know she'll be okay.

Being a parent has been a steep learning curve for me and my husband. And now, as she stands on the cusp of her future, we'll have to learn one more thing. How to manage without her.

She's ready to fly and we can only stand back and wish her a brilliant journey.

Virtual Reality

I don't know about you but I'm finding the constant zoom calls and video conferencing exhausting.

Silly, isn't it? It's hardly manual labour. But a lot of my work has moved online and there's something about spending hours speaking to people 'virtually' that leaves me jaded.

And it's not just work, of course. These days, internet is the only way to see friends and family. And yes, you can make it more fun with a cocktail or two... but it's not the same. Even talking to loved ones on a zoom screen can leave you exhausted.

And I'm not alone. Apparently 'zoom fatigue' is a thing, and it's something to do with having to focus on one small space for a prolonged period of time. Normally in a work meeting we'd be doodling or checking emails or having a side conversation with a colleague. But now we're all sitting in front of a screen hoping our other halves or our cat doesn't make an unexpected appearance in the background.

Sometimes I feel as though I'm glued to my laptop. When I'm not talking to it, I'm writing on it. I've managed to produce a novella, a short sequel to my urban fantasy Mark of the Djinn. It's called The Prince and his Thief and it's available to order now on Amazon. Check it out by clicking here.

I have two more virtual conferences this week and I'm strongly tempted to superimpose a virtual background for them just to liven things up. I have the TARDIS and the Liberator from Blake's Seven. What do you think? I reckon that might combat my zoom fatigue a little!

So what do you find hardest about online working? The lack of social interaction? The fact that your home is now your workspace? The extended screen time? Comment below, I'd love to hear your thoughts.