Sarah Broadley

You may be aware that I like to write rhyming stories. So, it comes with great trepidation and a large amount of courage to announce that I have stepped over to the dark side for a brief moment in time! After spending numerous hours researching the pro’s and con’s of eye patches and trying to figure out which public domain would be best suited to help with my written word on this subject (see watcha doin’ for a better explanation), I came across a competition for writers through my bible aka The Writers and Artists Yearbook 2012. However, there is

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Another Sunday morning and after numerous games of chess, draughts, I-spy and putting the world to rights Broadley style, my wee rugrats have finally succumbed to the chill out zone (aka the sofa). Now that I have some time, I can reflect on a wee party we attended last night. Getting involved in school events is a bit like a rock and a hard place – you really want to help out but you either don’t have the time or sometimes sadly the inclination or enthusiasm. Anyway, I helped along with all the other usual suspects.  And what a great

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I am feeling a sense of enormous well-being today after finally updating information on all my work to date. Not being the slightest bit technically minded, I think I have done not too shabby a job either, although it did take me a while! I am trying (very – as some folk might say, yeh you know who you are!) to master the technical side of things too. Let me know what you think! Click  link here for the updates made today!

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My wee rugrat had a bump on the head. Well, I don’t mean a ‘there, there, you will be fine – now get outside and play’ kind of bump, I mean a ‘Holy Coo must not cry but get ambulance as quick as I can’ kind of bump. Needless to say we are all fine now. Few more grey hairs but fine none the less. Sigh. Sitting in the  waiting room with said rugrat made me realise what a fantastic place the Sick Kids in Edinburgh is. Dr Murray was the best bit – very solemn but so funny and

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What a great way to spend a Thursday morning. I was invited into the unknown and secret world (wee C’s words not mine) of a primary 1 class. My mission, that I daringly chose to accept, was to read to his class as part of book week. So, I arrived, 3 coffees for the better I might add, clutching my second last copy of ‘No Chocolate For Sam’. And wow, there they all were. Forty non-blinking eyes to match the twenty cheesy grins and the scene was set. I had rehearsed a wee speech in my head but I think

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