It feels like a long time since I last wrote a blog post. In reality, it's been a month. And there are reasons but I'm not quite ready to sit down and write about them. That'll come later.

I've not stopped writing completely though. I've actually been lucky enough to have the opportunity to write a couple of guest book reviews for Amanda at One More Page.

I love, Love, LOVE to read but have only ever written one book review before (which you can read here) so I was very nervous about whether I'd be able to make a good job of it, especially as someone could potentially make a decision to read or not read a book on the strength of what's been said about it in a review. With great power comes great responsibility and all that jazz...

Anyway, here's my first guest book review Demon Marked by Meljean Brook. I hope you enjoy it x

The birth of my second son was one of those events that people often describe as "something to tell your grandchildren about" and as my beautiful little boy turned 1 today, I thought I'd share the story with you.

I woke at 6am on 8 July 2011 to the feeling of my waters slowly trickling their way out of me. I'd just turned 37 weeks pregnant and I wondered whether to wake my husband or not, as I certainly didn't feel like I was in labour.

I can remember my husband's alarm clock going off at about 6.30am and because I only felt "funny", he suggested he travel into work as normal and come back once labour had started, if it even did.

I lost track of time then. I think it was about 7am when I phoned my mum and asked her to come down and look after my toddler, as I thought I might be in labour. I also remember telling my husband I should phone the midwives at the hospital to let them know my waters had broken and find out if they wanted to check me over.

While my husband was trying to find the right telephone number for the hospital, I can recall it becoming imperative I keep pacing. I couldn't stop or sit down/kneel/bend over onto all fours, as it was much too uncomfortable. Being upright and mobile felt right.

If I didn't know I was in labour then, I did when the first contraction hit and oh my god, the pain. I was scared, my whole body hurt in the most indescribable way and I had to focus on just getting through each contraction....until I felt the most almighty urge to push. I swore at my husband to phone 999 and while he was speaking with the operator, I could feel my baby's head entering the world swiftly followed by the rest of him.

My mum arrived shortly before the paramedics. She told me she'd expected to find it was a false alarm and the last thing she'd expected to see was me sat on the loo in the en suite bathroom holding my newborn baby in my arms. Same here!

The paramedics told us the 999 call had been placed at 7.26am and my husband guessed the time of birth as 7.30am. I actually think he was born a few minutes before this but I can't say for certain as time took on a very different quality throughout the whole affair.

Baby and I were taken to hospital and checked over. He was fine. He may have only been  5lb 15oz but my husband and I could immediately tell he was going to be a feisty little character. There was never any doubt in our minds that the boy's name we'd chosen during my pregnancy was the right one for him; Randall.

Here he is at about an hour old:

And a year later:

How time has flown.

There's much more I could write - about how the birth affected me and how I really found it having 2 children under 2 - but those are posts for another day.

All I want to say now is: Happy birthday Panda Pop! I love you more than you'll ever know xxx

Saturday nights are rubbish so rather than spend my evening scrutinising the tv guide and getting frustrated at the lack of anything remotely good being on, I decided to have a root through my wardrobe and choose a suitable outfit for the apocalypse...as you do!

Here's what I settled on:

I've decided to channel a bit of Milla Jovovich in Resident Evil with this black lace dress from H&M, which I'm teaming up with a red butterfly belt, my favourite brown lightweight utility jacket from New Look, brown tights and brown pirate-style boots.

I find jeans and trousers really uncomfortable since having kids so a dress is definitely the best option for me. It'll give me freedom of movement and allow me to roundhouse kick plenty of zombies in the head!

I do have a red furry jacket which I could have chosen in place of this utility jacket. Although it's a lot thicker and would offer much more protection from zombie bites, it's a bit too bulky for the apocalypse and would be really hot to run in. A number of thinner layers is surely the better option.

The weak point of the outfit is definitely the boots. They're comfy enough but they're not exactly made for running away from the undead hordes. Clearly a bit of looting will be in order for something similar to these, which I think will be much more practical for my running and fighting needs!

Now I want to know about your post-apocalyptic clothing choices. These are the rules:

1) You must construct your outfit using clothes that are in your wardrobe and accessories you already own

2) Come back and leave a comment/link on this post so I know you've taken part and I can pop on over to visit you and check out your outfit

3) Tag as few or as many people as you like to carry on this meme

And to start things off, I'm tagging Mushypea from Mushypea, Sprout et al, Erin from American Mom in England, Claire from Chapters of Claire and Laura from Chez Mummy. Mwa ha ha ha!

And if you've read this and fancy taking part as well then consider yourself well and truly tagged!

Go get stylin'!

Week eight: Begin with a brisk 5-minute walk then 28 minutes running.

Last week I was supposed to complete 3 runs. I didn't.

This week I devised a catch-up plan with the aim of completing week 8 by today and starting week 9 on Friday. I haven't.

I've totally lost my way and the worst thing is I'm not sure I even care.

There's a part of me that still really wants to finish the Couch to 5K plan and put a big tick mark against my Grr Argh Challenge but there's a bigger part of me that thinks "what's the point? you've proven to yourself you can run, you know you can do it so lets move on to something else".

The big question is though would I be thinking this if I didn't feel so ground down by life at the moment? Because if the answer is no then I have to keep going otherwise I'll just end up beating myself up about yet another project that I've started but haven't finished.

And deep down I know the answer to that question is no but you know what? it feels easier to make excuses not to run right now:

• It's too hot
• The muggy weather's antagonising my asthma
• My period's finally come back
• My back aches
• I'm tired
• I'll do it tomorrow
 

Lets face it, they're rubbish excuses; even I can see that. But they're a symptom of the miserable, fed up attitude that kicked in when, in the same short space of time, the car broke down, 3 big household appliances went to household heaven, and everyone started to sleep badly.

I can't see a way out at the moment. Like I said, I just feel so ground down by it all and I find myself over-analysing everything. I am so tired of feeling haggard, exhausted and frumpy. I hate feeling like an empty shell that has nothing to offer, no special skills or interesting conversation; it makes me feel really insecure and vulnerable.

Starting to run gave me back some of my original sparkle but it's gone again. So what do you do when this happens to you? Inspire me world! I can't stand feeling like this.

Today, my dad is 60. Happy birthday daddy!

I'm going to let you into a little secret; I've had a horrible time trying to choose a birthday present for my dad.

I really wanted a meaningful gift (rather than a useless  bit of tat with 60 scrawled over it that would soon be forgotten about whilst simultaneously cluttering up the place) and I only had a small budget with which to find one. It shouldn't have been that hard a task should it? Aargh!

Although I eventually settled on a gift, it's not the ultimate birthday present I was dreaming of for him. But I recently realised that's because what I really wanted to give him isn't a tangible, material object, it's what's in my head and my heart when I think about him.

So dad, if you're reading this; I love you!

When I think back over the years, there are certain memories that jump out at me:

• Burying you in the sand on our holidays in Wales
• Getting the dinghy out whenever we went to the seaside
• Exploring your shop, which seemed like an Aladdin's cave of wonder and mystery to the (much) younger version of me!
• Watching the Tour de France with you
• Mammoth Sunday bike rides
• Hanging on for dear life on the back of your motorbike
• Scrubbing the Sunday roast tins with Jif
• Sliding around in the back of that old Jag you loved (but which made me feel really car-sick)

And while there are lots of memories that make me smile and laugh, there is one in particular that fills me with a very different emotion...

All my life you've been passionate about music and I can't put into words how incredibly proud I am that at "a mature age", you learnt to play the guitar and then threw yourself so wholeheartedly into singing and playing in a band as well as running a local open mic night and organising other music events. You may not do all of those things now but I will forever think of you as my father, the rockstar!

And this is why I struggled to choose a birthday gift for you; because what means something to me isn't a "thing", it's the memories conjured up by the music we've shared and the music to which you've introduced me. And this song here is, randomly, the one that means the most to me:

I'm going to stop now because I've made myself cry! Just, Happy Birthday! You mean the world to me xx

There are times in your life when you meet someone, quite unexpectedly, with whom you have an immediate connection. This happened to me not long after I joined twitter when I started to exchange tweets with today's guest poster, Liz.

There aren't enough words to express the depth of my admiration for this lady. Not only is Liz warm, friendly, kind and funny but she has a wonderful attitude towards life. She's not one to be found on the sidelines watching it passing her by; she gets in there, tries things out and embraces opportunity and experiences joyfully.

Getting to know Liz has also given me the opportunity to get to know more about myself but I'm not going to talk about that right here and now because I've promised a guestpost on the subject for Liz's blog. You'll just have to keep your eyes open for that instead!

You can find Liz on twitter here and seriously, follow her!

Then go and read her beautifully written and very eclectic blog called "Margot and Barbara" here.

But before you do either of those things, have a read of this...

I am a runner.

It happened almost by accident. In 2006, I was pregnant with my first child. In the twenty-nineth week of that pregnancy, during a routine appointment, the midwife realised that I had all the signs of early onset pre-eclampsia and I was sent to the hospital. I was there for a few days, injected with steroids and told to expect an early delivery to save both of us. A couple of days later, I went home, only to end up doubled up in pain. The pre-eclampsia had got worse and I’d also got HELLP syndrome. The pain that I thought was indigestion was really my liver shutting down.

I was rushed into hospital, stabilised and then given an emergency caesarian section. My daughter was born weighing only 2lb 11oz and was rushed off into the neonatal unit before I’d even seen her. I didn’t find out until much later that they’d had to resuscitate her at birth. Thankfully, nine weeks later we were able to bring her home and she’s now a bright and beautiful five year old with no signs of the story of her dramatic arrival.

Despite going through all of this, which really was the most difficult time of our lives, we decided a couple of years later that we’d like another baby. To assess the risk of me having pre-eclampisa again, we had a meeting with a specialist consultant. His advice? There was a one in ten chance of it re-occuring and the best thing I could do to bring down my risk and lower my blood pressure was to get fit. The fastest way to get fit? Running...

The problem with running was that it initally brought out the child in me. The one who took extra German classes so that she could miss PE. The one who hated sports day. It’s not that I didn’t like to be active, I rode, ran and played outside as a child all the time. I just hated the competitive nature of PE at school, whether that was as part of a hockey team or running the 800 metres and that was what I still thought of ‘running’.

So, I struggled with the idea of running as an adult. I needed to get fit quickly, and cheaply though so really I had few options. The treadmill was quickly ruled out. I didn’t have one of my own so it would have meant joining a gym which I wasn’t going to do. I am a member of a gym now, but still haven’t got over the ridiculous progression of our lives that means we have to go to a special place to run, row and climb nowhere!

I also knew that, left to my own devices, I’d carry on with the sedentary lifestyle that had contributed to the pre-eclampsia in the first place, whatever my good intentions were. I needed a running partner. Someone to encourage me to start, and to keep on going. Someone with a vested interest in keeping me fit and healthy. My husband.

We started running together each week. When I say running, I really mean jogging a few steps, keeling over with breathlessness, walking a bit, running a few more steps, and so on. Over the following weeks, I was running a little more, walking a little less and feeling better than I’d done for years. Yes, it was painful. Yes, I was slow. And yes, I spent a lot of time lagging behind my already-fit husband cursing in his direction as he reminded me of the good it was doing me; the most maddening thing I could ever be told.

Apart from knowing that he was right, and that I was working for a healthy pregnancy, I kept going because I had muscles in my thighs that I never knew existed and I was surprising myself by enjoying it. It worked too - in May 2009 I gave birth to a healthy baby boy after a normal pregnancy, with my blood pressure only going up during the birth. I even managed to run a 5k race in the early stages of my pregnancy before my anxiety about keeping the baby safe made me give up running until after he was born.

We ran, and still do run, off road. This has made a huge difference to me, because it appeals to that child who spent her time outdoors. I run through the woods and along bridle-paths. In the Spring, there are bluebells scenting the air and keeping me going. In the Autumn I run through crunchy piles of leaves, kicking them in the air as I go. In the Winter, I skate like Bambi over frozen puddles or sink in the snow. Always, I run through or jump over puddles. It is fun. I’m not the fastest of runners, I know that I’m slow, but it doesn’t matter.

These days, with two small children and a full time job, I have less time to run. My knees are creaky and my feet are often sore. But when I have the time, I run.

I have run. I do run. I will run.

I am a runner.

Week seven: Begin with a brisk 5-minute walk then 25 minutes of running.

Without doubt, week 7 of my Grr Argh Challenge has been my most successful.

Each workout, I managed to run about 2 miles in 25 minutes, sometimes just over this, and although this is a little short of the 2.5 miles that the plan indicates is needed to put me on target to be able to run 5k in 30 minutes, it's phenomenal to know a couple of months ago, I couldn't, and didn't, run at all. Look how far I've come!

The high spot of the week occurred just as I was about to start my 5 minute cool-down walk in workout 3. Husband had put together a playlist for me to listen to and had snuck one of 'our' songs on, which he knew would a) make me feel good and b) put a big smile on my face. It did both of these things when it came on and I really couldn't have ended my session on the treadmill in a better way.

Here it is for your delectation:

I'm keeping it on my playlist as I think the number of bpm will help me keep a nice, steady running pace plus it's really happy and uplifting.

Another surprise track on my playlist was "Just Like A Pill" by Pink. I would never have thought to add this myself but thanks to husband, it's another song that's staying on and which gave me a much-needed boost due to its energy and attitude. In case you haven't heard it, here it is:

And finally, I need to ask a question. What do you do if you get a stitch when you're running? Am I supposed to stop? keep running and breathe through it? or is there something else I should be doing? I'd really appreciate any advice you can offer.

Now bring on week 8!