I'm Considering Life Without a Passport

Why I'm Not Renewing My Passport

I'm thinking about not renewing my passport next month.

Up until now, this would have been unthinkable. I was a languages student; I planned to live overseas; most of my family has moved abroad at some point (one has not come back). I always thought of myself as one of those people who needed a passport stashed away, ready for impromptu adventures.

In reality, it's hard to do an impromptu trip to anywhere but a beach resort when you live in Aberdeen. The city breaks all depart from the central belt; it takes careful scheduling to go on one.

And in even further reality, I switched degrees because I felt too young (I went to uni at sixteen), too poor and too scared to do the year abroad. I've spent twenty and a half of the years since leaving home in Aberdeen and the other six months in Edinburgh; my grand plan of TEFLing around Europe never quite came to fruition.

And I'm okay with that.

Teenage me would be shocked - she would be particularly shocked that I've settled in Aberdeen, of all places; I only chose this city because my parents said I had to stay in Scotland and, at the time, Aberdeen was the furthest flung university. I was going to move straight after graduation. But it's where my friends are and it turns out that a sense of belonging is more important to me than living overseas. If I'm scared to make friends in my own language, imagine how isolated I could make myself, living in a foreign country.

But, of course, not planning to move abroad doesn't mean I don't need a passport. There are still holidays to be had.

It's just that... well... we can't really afford them. And I can't imagine us being able to afford them for several years to come.

That's no great hardship. Steve has had three trips abroad in his life; I have had ten; foreign holidays are not something either of us grew up with or feel are an essential component of a good life. We're happy to have weekends away in Scotland or in York or, to be honest, just some time together in our garden.

With all this in mind, I'm not sure I can justify spending £72.50 on renewing my passport right now. I don't have a spare £72.50 and, if I did, I'd rather spend it on some comfortable shoes or a night out with my boyfriend - something immediately gratifying; something which doesn't require wrestling with a photo booth.

I just have to square up the jetsetting image I have of myself with the homeloving reality.

Would you ever give up your own passport?

This Little Big Life: Gardening

This Little Big Life is a linky which Louise from Squished Blueberries and I have created to celebrate the weekend/days off. It's all about photographing or videoing the little moments in life which mean a huge amount - and we'd love if you would join in. You don't have to be a parent and you don't have to be confident with your camera - you just have relish your free time.

Here's how my weekend went:

Saturday looked like this...


The three of us headed into town in the morning. I shopped while Matilda and Steve went to the park, then Steve shopped while I took Matilda home for her nap. After lunch, we pootled around in the garden, clawing weeds out of the path and starting to dig a new flowerbed.

This Little Big Life: Steve and Matilda
This Little Big Life: Hot chocolate and steps
This Little Big Life: Beans on Toast
This Little Big Life: Purple hydrangea starting to bloom
This Little Big Life: Weedy path and wellies
This Little Big Life: Purple Iris

Sunday looked like this...


In the morning, Steve and Matilda went swimming while I got a few things done at home. In the afternoon, Steve's parents paid us a visit.

This Little Big Life: Steve putting Matilda's shoes on her
This Little Big Life: Crayons
This Little Big Life: Digging
Matilda and Grandad's feet

What did you get up to at the weekend? If you've blogged about it, please do link up below; I'd love if you could also tweet about the linky using the hashtag #ThisLittleBigLife and copying in me (@sarahrooftops) and Louise (@blueberriesblog).

Don't forget to stop by some of the other bloggers' posts, too!



What I've Been Reading Recently

What I've Been Reading Recently: Book reviews from Sarah Rooftops

Cor, it's ages since I had such a consistently good month with books. Don't just read on - read these:

The Unseeing by Anna Mazzola*
It's 1837 and Sarah Gale is to hang. Her partner, with whom she and her son have been living, has been found guilty of murder; Sarah has been found guilty of helping him keep his secret. But Edmund Fleetwood, a lawyer tasked with investigating Sarah's case, isn't convinced that she's guilty - and, even if she is, he doesn't agree with the death penalty. I didn't realise until after I read this that both Sarah Gale and the murder were real; Edmund is fictional and the "facts" are speculation, but that doesn't stop this from being an extremely powerful look at domestic abuse, the criminal justice system and the treatment of women in the nineteenth century. Right up until the end, I wasn't sure what the truth would turn out to be and I badly wanted to know. I recommend this one.

Melody Bittersweet and The Girls' Ghostbusting Agency by Kitty French*
Melody - like her mother and grandmother before her - can see dead people. Not fancying herself as a psychic, Melody decides to start a ghostbusting firm (always with the emphasis on helping the dead to move on, rather than the living to get rid of them). Before long, she and her team have their first case - it's a tricky one, made all the more complicated by both Melody's ex-boyfriend and a sexy-but-sceptical reporter hanging around. There's no getting away from the fact that this is A Very Silly Book. But it does silly well. It's lots of fun, full of pop culture references and intriguing enough to have kept me turning pages. It's clearly the first of a series and I can tell you right now: I'll be picking up book two.

Wake the F#ck Up by Brett Moran*
By 19, Brett Moran was a crack head, dealer and petty criminal. It wasn't until he was sent to jail that he realised his life didn't have to continue along this course. He discovered mindfulness, set to work turning himself around and establishing a career as a life coach, and then to writing this book. There are loads of books about mindfulness filling the shelves at the moment - honestly, which one you choose all comes down to how swirly you like your covers and how fuzzy you like the author photo to look; Brett's photo looks cool and relaxed and his stories are a bit edgier than the norm. If you're curious about mindfulness but embarrassed by pastel pictures of feathers, this is the book for you - I did do a bit of flicking past all the waffle but, as a guide to getting control of your thoughts, it's straightforward and easy to read.

We'll Always Have Paris: Trying and Failing to be French by Emma Beddington
Emma (the blogger behind Belgian Waffling) became obsessed with France in her teens, fantasising about a life in Paris. In her twenties, she had the chance to move there with her (French) husband and their two tiny children... but reality didn't quite match the dream. I had expected this to be a series of humorous anecdotes about catastrophes in France - and it is often witty - but it turned out to be a brutally honest account of grief, emotional breakdown, some very difficult decisions and several blind attempts to run away from disappointment. With a lot of cake thrown in. I raced through it.

Martini Henry by Sara Crowe*
18 year old aspiring writer, Sue, is trying to fit in with her sophisticated classmates on a creative writing course. Back home, her Aunt Coral has discovered the remains of a walled garden in the grounds of her crumbling mansion. Soon they're both trying to piece together their family history. This is funny, eccentric and touching and Sue's pretentious naivety is perfectly written - with wit and with affection.

Ruby Oliver 1: The Boyfriend List and Ruby Oliver 2: The Boy Book by E. Lockhart*
15 year old Ruby starts to have panic attacks after losing her boyfriend and best friends and being ostracised by most of her peers, so her parents send her to see a therapist. There's a lot of the usual teenage girl romance fodder here - crushes, cheats and the ethics of friendship - but Ruby works her way through and, to some degree, past the standard "boys are unfathomable" and "attractive girls don't complain" crap. If my daughter must go through adolescent heartache (and I suppose she must), this is the kind of book I want her to read - honest about how much this stuff hurts but with enough entry-level feminism and psychology to get her thinking about how she responds.  

*Provided for review

On Blogging Just For Fun

Sarah Rooftops: On Blogging Just for the Fun of It

It seems (to me) that every summer a wave of doubt sweeps across my blog feed. People are asking themselves why they bother to blog, whether anybody's reading what they're writing, how they ever thought they could make it into the big leagues of Boden sponsorship and blog award shortlists.

I'm not entirely immune.

Questions are jumbling around at the back of my mind. They're largely drowned out by my mental calendar (summer entertainments cross referenced with weather forecasts cross referenced with friends' work schedules), children's TV angst (where's Captain Sinker?!) and a constant loop of Wind the Bobbin Up. But they're there.

More and more, I'm finding that I don't feel comfortable telling Matilda's stories online. It's a shame as she's genuinely hilarious at the moment, but it just doesn't feel right to laugh at her toddler mishaps so publicly. I've set up an email address to send those stories to instead so that I can always remember them and she can read them when she's old enough not to cringe.

Less and less, I have tales of motherhood to share. We're through all the newborn months when things changed and lessons were learned and opinions were sought every week or so. These days, my little family bumbles along doing much the same things we always do - we try a new activity now and then; Matilda gets the occasional tooth; bedtimes go through good and bad patches; but we're basically into a routine which works for us all.

There are always things to mull over - what should or will our future hold? - but nothing that I particularly want to blog about at the moment.

I imagine myself writing witty accounts of mortifying incidents in my life - the kind of blog I most enjoy reading - but, to be honest, my life doesn't throw up that much fodder. There are only so many jokes I can make about our dodgy drains.

And, although I'm all for people making a living from their blogs if that's what they want to do, it's not something I'm particularly interested in myself. The paid posts I've been offered in the past have all been for companies I take personal issue with (try to increase my insurance premiums by 200%, will you?) and I'd hate to be in a position in which I felt I had to promote them because that's how I paid the bills. I don't want to learn to do flat lays, try to encourage readers to comment on posts about diarrhoea pills or feel stressed because Matilda's not enjoying an activity I've been paid to say that she loved. For me, blogging "freebies" are an exciting perk, not an essential part of writing in this space.

So, with all that in mind: why am I blogging and what have I got to say?

Well... I'm blogging because writing's what I do. It's how I process my thoughts and relieve my stress. Clearly, I like the sound (rhythm?) of my own voice (fingers on keyboard?).

I'm blogging because I've made genuine friends through it. There's a wonderful community here. I feel less awkward in my offline life because of the confidence my online friendships have given me.

And I'm blogging because I like having something which is all mine, which I create in my free time, on my own, away from my identity as Girlfriend, Mother and Cat Feeder.

As to what I have to say... I've decided not to worry about it so much. I miss the days when the blogs I read were rambling streams of consciousness with no promotional agenda, when we treated them (to an unwise degree, sometimes) as online diaries. So I'm ditching the post calendar and waiting to see what flows out of my fingers.

I feel that it's become a bit of a shameful thing, to admit that you blog just for fun. There are so many blog posts explaining how to avoid looking like an amateur, how to up your social media game and why blogging for a living is an admirable thing to do that taking any other approach becomes, by default, a bit of an embarrassment.

And yet most of the bloggers I actually interact with do blog for fun. Some of them are unashamed of it but most whisper about feeling like a bit of a failure; they don't have the time or the inclination to keep up with the big names but wonder if that makes their words less valid.

It doesn't.

It really doesn't.

Let's make a louder noise about blogging for the fun of it. Let's make sure it's something people can and do feel proud of.

Who's with me?

Who's blogging just for fun?

This Little Big Life: Quiet

This Little Big Life is a linky which Louise from Squished Blueberries and I have created to celebrate the weekend/days off. It's all about photographing or videoing the little moments in life which mean a huge amount - and we'd love if you would join in. You don't have to be a parent and you don't have to be confident with your camera - you just have relish your free time.

For me, last weekend was quiet, in part thanks to Matilda's erupting tooth (we were all so tired) and in part thanks to the usual summer downpours.

On Saturday, she and I walked through the fields to meet up with a bunch of mum-and-toddler pals. On Sunday, Steve and Matilda played at home while a [very patient] friend and I headed to the garden centre for cake and plant purchases. And... that was it.

Saturday looked like this...


This Little Big Life: Matilda and Gizmo
This Little Big Life: Fields and trees
This Little Big Life: Feet and toddler footprints
This Little Big Life: Fruit all over kitchen floor
This Little Big Life: Fox tights

Sunday looked like this...


This Little Big Life: Curls
This Little Big Life: Plastic eggs
This Little Big Life: Daddy and Matilda reading
This Little Big Life: MegaBlox tower
This Little Big Life: Peeking through wall
This Little Big Life: Toddler gardening tools



What did you get up to at the weekend? If you've blogged about it, please do link up below; I'd love if you could also tweet about the linky using the hashtag #ThisLittleBigLife and copying in me (@sarahrooftops) and Louise (@blueberriesblog).

Don't forget to stop by some of the other bloggers' posts, too!


Out In Public In Pyjamas

How leaving the house in my pyjamas helped me to relax

Last week - after stating in January that I was about to start a class - I made it back to yoga.

It had been a crappy week. Matilda's fourth (and by far worst) molar was erupting so nobody was sleeping, everybody was sobbing and I was done - done - with physical contact. I needed an excuse to get out of the house. A yoga class it was.

A friend of mine came along with me, driving me the several hundred metres from my flat to the community centre, partly because she wasn't sure where she was going and partly because it saved me having to walk around the neighbourhood in my pyjama bottoms. My Christmas pyjama bottoms. In June. They're very nice pyjama bottoms with their herd of tartan reindeer, but there's no mistaking them for yoga pants.

There is a precedent here; I did two terms of pilates in polka dot pyjama bottoms before the class was cancelled (for presumably unrelated reasons). But still, I managed to buy a yoga mat in the January sales - you would think I could have walked a couple of aisles over to the clothing section and found myself some exercise longjohns, too. And perhaps I would have done if all that black and neon lyrca (combined with my mass of frizzy curls) didn't make me feel like I was a 1980s Smash Hits poster girl.

Anyway, we made it along to the class, one of us without water, the other without a mat, both of us without blankets. We paid our money and filled out our registrations, with my usual form-induced amnesia kicking in - "Nope, I've never had any joint problems!" I ticked, only remembering that I was crippled for half my pregnancy and spent the first part of this year in physio twenty minutes into the class when I suddenly wished I had a big, squishy mattress under my hips instead of a sliver of foam.

It wasn't the most promising of yoga locations. Through one wall, we could hear bellydancing music; through another, the angry chops of a karate class. The floor smelt of dirty feet and there were teenagers loitering outside the window, eating crisps and looking non-specifically mortified. There was a painting on the wall with what seemed to a burning demon in one corner.

And yet... I relaxed.

The constant chatter of teething theories and sleep requirements and cartoon theme tunes in my head switched off; my focus turned almost entirely to holding poses.

As I lay under my borrowed blanket, winding down at the end of the session, I suddenly realised that this was the first time all week that I didn't feel utterly on edge. Nobody was clambering onto my face because they needed to be as physically close to me as possible and then thrusting me away in anguish when my hugs didn't cure their pain. Nobody was hanging onto my skirt and shrieking for something neither of us could identify. If Matilda was jolting awake every ten minutes (and it turns out that, yes, she was), I was too far away to know and I had left my phone at home.

More than that: it was the first time in months that I wasn't aware of anybody else. I wasn't keeping an eye on an exploring toddler or vaguely alert for her night wakings; I wasn't wondering whether to get off the internet and make actual conversation with my boyfriend; I wasn't chattering to a friend; I wasn't pouring words into a keyboard for hypothetical readers to respond to.

I was just me, in my own body, in my own head, on my own.

And I hadn't realised just how badly I needed that calm.

Running Away From People I've Not Even Met Yet

On fear of new neighbours and resenting my garden

This week marked three years since Steve and I bought our current home.

It also marked two years since the flat downstairs became vacant. Last week, somebody finally bought it.

And this week, I started daydreaming about moving.

This is no coincidence. I've had the worst luck with neighbours. And I know you think you've had the worst luck with neighbours but my stories are definitely worse. Perhaps not the guy who would let his dog crap in the communal hall. Maybe not the guy who gave his hooker friends keys so they could work in our lobby, broke the front door lock most weekends (plus side: I learnt how to wire up deadlocks), came to my door screaming abuse when he received his eviction notice and scattered a jigsaw up and down five flights of stairs when he finally left. But definitely the guy who murdered another neighbour (in front of her toddler no less) because she complained about his music (One by U2, played at full volume, on repeat, twenty-four hours a day, whether or not he was home).

The prospect of new neighbours makes me nervous.

As it happens, after weeks of me saying, "I just hope they have kids Matilda's age," it turns out that there will indeed be two kids Matilda's age moving in downstairs. I'm getting exactly what I asked for. But I've now convinced myself that the kids' parents and Steve and I will hate each other and it will be horribly awkward every time anyone's out in the garden.

I've started to convince myself that the garden's a huge issue, too.

Downstairs has a private area. We have a private area. Our private area wraps around a shared drying green. Our private area doesn't feel very private at all - I can't very well tell their toddlers not to step over an invisible line onto our patch of grass (nor would I actually want to; I like the idea that the kids may have free run of the whole garden and share each other's toys).

Added to that, to get to our garden, we have to go a long way round and down some stairs and through our neighbours' area. Suddenly, it seems very inconvenient. I can't just open a door and let Matilda run outside; I have to be there with her. I can't carry both her and a cup of hot tea down the stairs at once.

Matilda and I spent a lovely sunny morning last week visiting friends in a newbuild property. We sat in their blank canvas of a private garden and nipped through the patio doors directly into their kitchen every time we needed snacks. It was lovely.

I started to convince myself that direct access to a private garden was essential for a good quality of life. Also a dishwasher.

I went so far as to find out that there is a newbuild three bedroom house which backs directly onto our friends' house, which costs exactly the same as our two bedroom flat is worth. I bemoaned Aberdeen's stagnant property market - there's no (probable) way we could sell up and move at the moment even though it's conceivably affordable.

I started to get quite worked up about this.

It didn't matter that, in terms of square footage, our two bedroom flat is larger than the three bedroom house; it didn't matter that the three bedroom house isn't laid out in a way which would suit our two-desks-and-lots-of-shelves-and-an-attic-full-of-geek-stuff lifestyle; it didn't matter that we love the street we live on; it didn't matter that our neighbourhood has an easily accessible supermarket and the potential new area doesn't; it didn't matter that we adore our flat and all its character and the big, open rooms; it didn't matter that I much prefer somewhere with a nice view to somewhere which looks straight into neighbouring homes. All of that was eclipsed by not being able to open a patio door into the garden (we'd also quite like a third bedroom but not if it's the size of a cereal packet).

And that (ridiculous, #firstworldproblem) complaint was masking my fear of new neighbours.

So, instead of letting myself dwell on what our home and garden don't offer, I'm focusing instead on what they do. I've assembled a garden bench and a water butt; I'm heading to the garden centre with a friend tomorrow; I'm dreaming up ways to make our garden exciting for a toddler (or three). Our garden might not be private or right outside the kitchen, but it really could be lovely.

I've even called a plumber to swap the bathroom radiator for a heated towel rail - something Steve and I have been talking about for... well... three years now, I suppose.

Now fingers crossed that the new neighbours turn out to be lovely - this is the sort of street where people drop by unannounced with homemade jam and bags of raspberries; let's hope that they fit right in!

This Little Big Life: Gardening

This Little Big Life is a linky which Louise from Squished Blueberries and I have created to celebrate the weekend/days off. It's all about photographing or videoing the little moments in life which mean a huge amount - and we'd love if you would join in. You don't have to be a parent and you don't have to be confident with your camera - you just have relish your free time.

I had a lovely, quiet weekend with the family. The weather on Saturday was good enough and on Sunday it was glorious so we pootled around at home and in the garden, getting various things done and spending a lot of time relaxing. Some friends dropped by on Sunday afternoon, too.

Saturday looked like this...


This Little Big Life: Cat mug
This Little Big Life: Matilda playing with a toy tractor
This Little Big Life: Yellow flowers, yellow shoes, yellow skirt
This Little Big Life: Raindrops on nasturtiums
This Little Big Life: First kaffir lily of the year
This Little Big Life: Matilda playing with wooden circles
This Little Big Life: Happy black cat (Gizmo)
This Little Big Life: Doing the laundry
Matilda things: Viking T-shirt from Tu at Sainsbury's (boys' section, obvs).

Sunday looked like this...


This Little Big Life: Selfie
This Little Big Life: Water play
This Little Big Life: Feet
This Little Big Life: Homemade houmous on toast
This Little Big Life: Duck watering can
This Little Big Life: Water play tub
This Little Big Life: Steve and Matilda in the sun shade
Matilda things: Sun hat from Marks & Spencer; flamingo dress made by Elise; cardigan from Tu at Sainsbury's; floral dress from Next.

What did you get up to at the weekend? If you've blogged about it, please do link up below. You can also tweet or Instagram pictures using the hashtag #ThisLittleBigLife.

If you tweet about the linky, remember to use the hashtag #ThisLittleBigLife and copy in me (@sarahrooftops) and Louise (@blueberriesblog).

Don't forget to stop by some of the other bloggers' posts, too!

Extra: Ordinary Moments

Messy play

I'm not feeling very chipper today for obvious reasons.* I'm not going to waffle on about it because, as far as I can tell from social media, you all feel the same way I do (anxious about the future; angry at, disappointed in and ashamed of the UK; certain there must be a loophole; and desperate for my Eastern European postie to know that I voted Remain).

Back to blogging as normal:

* * *

On the subject of social media, Facebook is suddenly suggesting almost all of my blogging contacts to me as friends.

I feel the usual creeped-outedness about this. I still think of the internet as a lot of distinct groups which don't talk to each other (despite having worked in web design and maintenance for years) rather than lots of different branches of The Social [Media] Club, meeting up for cookie baking competitions. Though we all know that Instagram's going to bring along a bunch of pretty pastel macarons and put Twitter's chocolate cornflake nests to shame.

But, more than that, I feel anxious. I've been swiping through everyone's photos (being surprised by their surnames) and asking myself: "Which of these friends are Facebook friends?" If I like Instagram photos of their Salt-water Sandals and they like Instagram photos of Matilda's hands, does that mean we're close enough to like the same photos automatically posting to each other's personal Facebooks? If I send them a friend request are they going to a) feel incredibly uncomfortable about having to ignore a friend request from that overly enthusiastic blogger they once had a natter with on Twitter or b) not know who I am?

Not that I use Facebook for anything other than finding out about toddler events these days. This week has been the first time in months I've seen anybody actually post an update (so many sad face emojis) which I suppose makes the contents of my friends list pretty much irrelevant.

* * *

Speaking of toddler events, this week Matilda and I headed to a Minions-themed messy play session where she covered herself (and I do mean that literally) in purple goo and bright red paint; she had a great time but my jeans will never be the same again.

We also went to her first barbecue. It was in a massive garden with an amazing mud kitchen and has filled me with all kinds of outdoor space envy. The very next morning, I texted a friend and bribed her into taking me to the garden centre (next week) by offering to buy her cake. In the meantime, I've redoubled my efforts to keep the snails off my sunflowers (by chucking them over the wall every second day instead of every fourth).



*If you're reading this in the distant future and you've not being paying attention to your history lessons: Britain voted to leave the EU this week. Also, is wading through my 2016 1990s Scottish slang a bit like me trying to make any sense of Shakespeare?
**Actually, I'm not that bothered by Brie by "things from Etsy sellers based in the EU" wasn't quite as punchy.

This Little Big Life: Cake and Shoes

This Little Big Life is a linky which Louise from Squished Blueberries and I have created to celebrate the weekend/days off. It's all about photographing or videoing the little moments in life which mean a huge amount - and we'd love if you would join in. You don't have to be a parent and you don't have to be confident with your camera - you just have relish your free time.

Here's how my weekend went:

Saturday looked like this...

Saturday got off to a quiet start. Steve and Matilda headed to the park for a couple of hours while I pottered around, ticking things off the to do list.

After Matilda's mega-nap (presumably making up for the ones she didn't bother with through the week), we headed to a first birthday party (only two hours late...) where we gorged on cake and caught up with parent friends.

Steve was out in the evening so I settled myself on the sofa with hot chocolate and my Kindle and enjoyed the silence.

This Little Big Life: Towelling Poncho
This Little Big Life: Doll wearing toddler shoes
This Little Big Life: Awesome Outfit
This Little Big Life: Wrapping presents
This Little Big Life: Yellow and orange shoes
This Little Big Life: Birthday Cake
This Little Big Life: Hot chocolate and Kindle
Matilda's Things: Towelling poncho from Tu at Sainsbury's (she also has the Iron Man one); Awesome top from Next boys' section; Wolf leggings from Fred & Noah; Red shoes from Tu at Sainsbury's boys' section (similar here); Yellow shoes from Clarks

Sunday looked like this...

Sunday was Father's Day. We don't make a big deal of Father's/Mother's Day but Matilda and I had collaborated on some special artwork; I also got Steve and Matilda matching T-shirts. In the afternoon, we wandered to the shops to get Matilda's feet measured (and then to buy her a slightly larger pair of yellow shoes).

This Little Big Life: Happy Father's Day
This Little Big Life: Curls
This Little Big Life: At the park
This Little Big Life: Matilda and Steve sleeping
This Little Big Life: New yellow shoes
This Little Big Life: Wooden stacking birds
This Little Big Life: Me with toy dog
This Little Big Life: Matilda climbing
Matilda's Things: Flowery coat from Next; Father and daughter T-shirts (his reads "TIRED"; hers reads "NOT TIRED") from Zarlivia Clothing; Skirt handmade by Elise; No idea about her tights; Yellow shoes from Mothercare; Wooden birds from Early Learning Centre.

What did you get up to at the weekend? If you've blogged about it, please do link up below; I'd love if you could also tweet about the linky using the hashtag #ThisLittleBigLife and copying in me (@sarahrooftops) and Louise (@blueberriesblog).

Don't forget to stop by some of the other bloggers' posts, too!