Chronicles of a Trailing Spouse...

We’ve been pretty lucky health-wise with our kids ( touch wood !). Two of them have never seen a doctor for anything other than immunisation, and apart from the time when four of them came down with chicken pox, we’ve been troubled by little more than the odd sniffle. We did, however, go through a scare with the ten-year-old boy several years back, when we thought he might be autistic. I’ve chosen to write about this because only last week yet another friend confided she was having two of her kids tested for autism, and it struck me that this is something I hear all too often from other mothers. Before I go any further, I want to say two things: firstly, I’m not a medical expert, and am talking purely about my own experiences. Secondly, autism is a very serious condition and my heart goes out to anyone with an autistic child, it is not an easy path. But I do wonder if these ‘spectrum’ conditions – such as autism, Aspergers, ADD -- are over-diagnosed at times. When my...

One of my favourite memories from childhood is of my mother creeping into my bedroom late at night -- following a party or dinner out -- a little tipsy, and reeking from the heady mix of Bacardi and coke, YSL’s ‘ Youth Dew’ , and a dozen Silk Cut purple cigarettes.  Full of conviviality and rum, she would whisper promises of treats and trips-out into my sleepy ear, before tiptoeing out of the room to rejoin my father downstairs for a night cap. Snuggling down under the covers, I would drift off into a contented slumber with her loving words still dancing in my head. The world was a safe, good place. I've always hated cigarettes and cheered for the strong arm of the nanny-state the day the smoking ban was introduced into Ireland; but even today as a non-smoking adult, the mere whiff of cigarette smoke can evoke feelings of warmth and safety, bound up with a million memories of my mother and the close bond I shared with her as I grew up. My mother was a twenty-a-day ...