Return of the blonde

We were driving through the Yorkshire Dales on the way to the Lake District. It was gorgeous and the views were breathtaking.

Tootling along a road at the top of a valley, I noticed poles by the road used to mark how high the snow was each year.

I was confused.

'Steve, how can the snow get that high? There are houses down in the valley! People can't live in them can they? If the snow gets that high here then they would be, like, 25 feet under the snow!'

Steve nearly swerved off the road.

'Snow doesn't fill up does it! It lays where falls. It isn't like filling a bath! Otherwise your mum's house, at the bottom of the hill, would be constantly under the snow in winter. God, Liv, it is like when you asked why the sea was always down the hill and not up!'

A change

On Monday I had to call the care insurance; we bought a new car at the weekend and I needed to change the policy. When on the phone the operator, a cheerful Geordie named Rick who teased me about the Tigers beating Newcastle United on Saturday, asked if there were any other changes to our policy we needed to make, occupation he suggested.

I paused.

'Yes', I hesitated, 'my employment has changed'.

'Right', he responded, 'I have you down as a Public Relations Officer, what are you now?'

I paused again.

Hesitating, I wondered whether I should say 'Writer', what I am trying to become, except I haven't been paid for a writing job yet.

Rick cleared his throat. The pause had been too long. He tried to be helpful,

'Try and think of key words and we will come up with the closest match'.

'OK', I took a breath, 'Stay at home mum'.

'You mean 'Housewife', that is a good fit yes?'

I gulped, 'Housewife. Yes. I suppose so.'

And so my life has changed.