the museum collections

I love going to museums when they have weird and wonderful exhibits on, the more strange the better as far as I’m concerned.


dancing queen, only seventeen

Oh to be that age again,

Getting drunk for the first time

And kissing boys in alleyways

As they hold your hair in one hand

And a can of cheap cider in the other.

It’s such a fun age too,

With school days ending and the summer nights

Drifting on like an endless hazy dream.

Oh to be seventeen again,

I wouldn’t change a thing…

Noah turned 17 today and it’s bringing back all kinds of nostalgia as I sit thinking about my life and his. On the one hand, I’m thinking about what it was like being seventeen myself; and on the other hand, I’m remembering the day that he was born.

It’s strange because he was born on a Saturday, so yesterday I was very aware that it was a Friday afternoon that I went into labour. And this morning, I was very aware that he would have only just been born, and this afternoon I’ve been thinking about the blood transfusion that I had in my arm as I sat and watched him squirming in his little plastic cot.

Just before I sat down to write this, I started thinking about myself at seventeen. I really discovered drinking when I was that age and I think that some of the alarm bells should have been going off in my head that I needed to be careful. But you live and you learn, don’t you?

I miss being seventeen, and I particularly miss the excitement of having your whole life stretching out in front of you. Nobody has stomped on your dreams and you really believe that you will sail through life and never get hurt.

I like getting older, and I like who I am now becoming, but there are definitely a few things I might do a little differently if I had the chance all over again.

Much Love

Rachel xx

vintage items in my home

modern kitchen with various glass jars and fruits on plate
Photo by Marlene Leppänen on

Those plastic toys that every kid

Owned in 1988,

I had the plastic ponies and a snail

That opened up to carry little woodland mice.

My parents had a teas maid in their room

And it would spring to life at six,

Singing golden oldie hits and boiling water

While they stirred beneath their duvets

In their flannel jimmy jams.

And when we made a call from home

We turned the dial and waited for the clicks,

Twirling cords around our nervous fingers as

We longed for boyfriends loving words.

And now I see these things in cases,

Exhibits for the younger folk to see

And marvel at the way we coped

Before the fancy mobile phones and broadband,

Wifi and our handheld games.

Now I just feel sad that they won’t know

That simple time and they’ll just laugh

At those things I once held dear, precious.

A part of me, my history.

There is a museum in the town that I live in and it has lots of historical artifacts. There are even old sweet shops and pubs where you can buy pick n mix and sit and have a pint.

At the back of the museum is an exhibit where you can see examples of living rooms and kitchens through the decades. It starts from about the 1950’s and goes right up to post 2000. I love looking at some of the appliances they had and the style of the decoration in each room.

However, last time I went I walked through the back part of the exhibit and found cases of appliances and some of them were from the 80s. And then I spotted loads of things that I remembered. There was a teas maid that my parents owned and a vacuum cleaner that we had in the house.

And in the toys section there were games that I had played as a child.

Noah gazed at all of these things and asked if I had actually played with these toys. He seemed amazed at the fact that I had toys that didn’t require batteries or wifi connection.

Seeing these items in a museum really made me feel quite old. I know that in the scheme of things I’m not that old at all, but seeing my old toys and realising that they are now so outdated took me aback.

It is lovely to see these old pieces of your past though. It’s like crawling up into your loft space and finding boxes of your old school books and paintings you did at playgroup. It feels like a hug from somewhere in the past, when life was safe and predictable; a life that I would quite like to go back to.

Much Love

Rachel xx

speaking in tongues

They speak in tongues

As they bowl their way down

Yellow painted corridors

Elbows in ribs

And raucous shouts.

But what is a Tik Tok

If it’s not the sound of a clock?

And since when is a Fornite

Not the name for two weeks?

I feel way out my depth

As I stand to one side

And let the group pass.

I’m just a ghost

Not worth the space

Cos I’m just too old

To know what they say.

I visited a school the other day to get a taste for teaching. It was a really great experience and has made me really keen to get into the profession.

BUT I did feel incredibly old. There was a whole new language that they used that I didn’t understand in the slightest. The number of websites and TV programmes and music artists that I don’t know is astounding.

And it made me feel really old! I remember being a kid and just rolling my eyes at my teachers and parents when they didn’t know what we were talking about. But now I’m on the receiving end of the eye rolls.

I think that if I do get into teaching I probably need to switch back to Radio One!

Much Love

Rachel xx