A Day in my Life
Soon after Kai, our cockerel, begins his morning cock-a-doodle-doo in the garden, our little daughters, Jemima, aged 9, and Bay, aged 7, come flying up the corridor, along with Dilly, our sprightly Norfolk Terrier, and together they take a giant leap onto our bed. My husband, Turtle, and I will then draw imaginary straws as to who gets out of bed first. If I strike lucky, I’ll score an extra thirteen minutes of peace so that I can stretch out and listen to a podcast of The Archers from the night before.
Turtle often takes the children to school, and as they drive down the avenue, I wave them off and sometimes do star jumps, to make them laugh, until the car disappears through the gates. Returning inside, the house is so still and quiet, except for Mr Nibbles, our hamster, who strangely comes out to play the instant the children leave for school. He swings from the rafters of his cage, as if he too is celebrating the peace. Then it’s time to feed Kai and his harem of hens. They don’t lay eggs in the winter but I don’t mind as just watching them scratch beneath the apple trees with so much freedom is a beautiful sight. Then Dilly and I set out on our morning walk across the fields. I try mindfulness, which means ignoring the iPhone in my pocket, and that demands willpower. The idea is to instead tune into birdsong and the good vibes from the trees, which is known as ‘forest therapy’. And as white tailed rabbits speed away from Dilly, outsmarting her by zipping into the hedgerow while she is looking the other way, the joys of nature are all around and there is a tremendous feeling of positivity.
A room of one’s own for me is the kitchen. It is bright yellow with windows on every wall so the light, no matter what the weather, is always good. Looking out a large sash window at the other end of the table there is a huge field. Sometime a deer might stand in the field, still as a statue, or I might spot a fox. It feels so special, to see them, if only for a moment.
I try to spend at least four or five hours a week working in the garden, weeding, transplanting, pruning. I love it. Sometimes I listen to a Woman’s Hour podcast from the BBC and it can be really inspiring, especially when they interview authors, giving me insight as to how other people conjure up stories. I recently listened to an amazing interview with Diana Athill. I felt like I was sitting right next to her as she spoke. The power of headphones.
Writing for me happens sporadically. My background is in Public Relations and having worked in New York, London and Dublin agencies, I am used to open plan offices with maybe forty or more people on one floor. This has stood me in good stead for working from home, so much so that I can sit down and quite happily write a chapter while the children are playing Twister or racing around the house. However, I do try to discipline myself to work while the children are at school and once I collect them, it’s daughter-time. When the children were toddlers, I thought that would be the most intense part of parenting, watching them every second, and picking up after an endless trail of destruction around the house. But as they grow, I find they need my attention more and more emotionally. Discussing their friendships, their school, trying to explain life’s complexities and make them less daunting. By the time the children return from one of their activities, maybe yoga or drama, ballet or piano, we might bake a cake, finish homework and then following supper and minuscule iPad time, they take a long bath.
If Turtle doesn’t have a speaking engagement or a deadline, he usually returns home at a reasonable hour, and the children like to settle down in their pyjamas and play cards with us. Usually Chase the Ace, at which Jemima and Bay take turns in winning. Once the girls are asleep, I like to have a chat on the phone with my Mum, who lives in County Monaghan. Then, if Turtle and I aren’t tucking into a Netflix series, we often work late into the evening. Turtle at one end of the kitchen table and me at the other, tapping away in unison. The Aga blasting out heat, a little music, break for supper, check the children then maybe another chapter.
When I am not writing fiction, I deal with fact in the shape of PR. I have a real passion for taking on a product, identifying its key selling points and then pitching to the media. To see a feature about one of my clients in a newspaper or magazine is very exciting. Maybe like seeing my own novel in print for the first time.
Family plays an integral part in our life here. We built our house on Turtle’s family estate in 2008 and so the children have a very special bond with their cousins. To see them growing up together quickly brings Narnia to mind. And in this country sanctuary, I often feel like we are living in a novel. Maybe that is what spurs me on to write.
I try to look at the sky before I go to bed; friends who stay here say its expanse is larger than most places. And when I step out the front door at night, knowing our little girls are tucked up in bed and Turtle is with me, I look up at the moon on a clear night and I thank my lucky stars.
The Inheritance is Ally Bunbury's debut novel.
Turtle often takes the children to school, and as they drive down the avenue, I wave them off and sometimes do star jumps, to make them laugh, until the car disappears through the gates. Returning inside, the house is so still and quiet, except for Mr Nibbles, our hamster, who strangely comes out to play the instant the children leave for school. He swings from the rafters of his cage, as if he too is celebrating the peace. Then it’s time to feed Kai and his harem of hens. They don’t lay eggs in the winter but I don’t mind as just watching them scratch beneath the apple trees with so much freedom is a beautiful sight. Then Dilly and I set out on our morning walk across the fields. I try mindfulness, which means ignoring the iPhone in my pocket, and that demands willpower. The idea is to instead tune into birdsong and the good vibes from the trees, which is known as ‘forest therapy’. And as white tailed rabbits speed away from Dilly, outsmarting her by zipping into the hedgerow while she is looking the other way, the joys of nature are all around and there is a tremendous feeling of positivity.
A room of one’s own for me is the kitchen. It is bright yellow with windows on every wall so the light, no matter what the weather, is always good. Looking out a large sash window at the other end of the table there is a huge field. Sometime a deer might stand in the field, still as a statue, or I might spot a fox. It feels so special, to see them, if only for a moment.
I try to spend at least four or five hours a week working in the garden, weeding, transplanting, pruning. I love it. Sometimes I listen to a Woman’s Hour podcast from the BBC and it can be really inspiring, especially when they interview authors, giving me insight as to how other people conjure up stories. I recently listened to an amazing interview with Diana Athill. I felt like I was sitting right next to her as she spoke. The power of headphones.
Writing for me happens sporadically. My background is in Public Relations and having worked in New York, London and Dublin agencies, I am used to open plan offices with maybe forty or more people on one floor. This has stood me in good stead for working from home, so much so that I can sit down and quite happily write a chapter while the children are playing Twister or racing around the house. However, I do try to discipline myself to work while the children are at school and once I collect them, it’s daughter-time. When the children were toddlers, I thought that would be the most intense part of parenting, watching them every second, and picking up after an endless trail of destruction around the house. But as they grow, I find they need my attention more and more emotionally. Discussing their friendships, their school, trying to explain life’s complexities and make them less daunting. By the time the children return from one of their activities, maybe yoga or drama, ballet or piano, we might bake a cake, finish homework and then following supper and minuscule iPad time, they take a long bath.
If Turtle doesn’t have a speaking engagement or a deadline, he usually returns home at a reasonable hour, and the children like to settle down in their pyjamas and play cards with us. Usually Chase the Ace, at which Jemima and Bay take turns in winning. Once the girls are asleep, I like to have a chat on the phone with my Mum, who lives in County Monaghan. Then, if Turtle and I aren’t tucking into a Netflix series, we often work late into the evening. Turtle at one end of the kitchen table and me at the other, tapping away in unison. The Aga blasting out heat, a little music, break for supper, check the children then maybe another chapter.
When I am not writing fiction, I deal with fact in the shape of PR. I have a real passion for taking on a product, identifying its key selling points and then pitching to the media. To see a feature about one of my clients in a newspaper or magazine is very exciting. Maybe like seeing my own novel in print for the first time.
Family plays an integral part in our life here. We built our house on Turtle’s family estate in 2008 and so the children have a very special bond with their cousins. To see them growing up together quickly brings Narnia to mind. And in this country sanctuary, I often feel like we are living in a novel. Maybe that is what spurs me on to write.
I try to look at the sky before I go to bed; friends who stay here say its expanse is larger than most places. And when I step out the front door at night, knowing our little girls are tucked up in bed and Turtle is with me, I look up at the moon on a clear night and I thank my lucky stars.
The Inheritance is Ally Bunbury's debut novel.
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