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Hi, I'm Lyndsey. I'm a 36 year old Mum from Wales. I have a Masters Degree in Marketing Communications and Public Relations and put it to good use in my work as a freelance Marketing & PR consultant. I also work part time as a fundraising coordinator for a Welsh charity which I absolutely love!! With two jobs, two children, two cats and a handsome man, lets just say I'm a busy lady. 
From 2006-2008, I wrote a column for the Denbighshire Free Press. I was so proud of the feedback I got for this, even the one angry ‘You Suck’ letter to the editor cheered me up no end; it showed that people took notice of what little ol’ me had to say. It’s good to know that people give a rat’s ass either way! So, succumbing to requests from my former fan club (ok, overstating there – readers who had nothing better to do on a Thursday afternoon) under the March 2014 archive you will find a selection of my early Free Press articles. I’d love to hear what you think on any of the subjects raised…you know, rat’s ass either way feedback ;-)


Tenerife. Part 1. Drowning

My Son and I have the same look on our faces when we are drowning, apparently.

As Hubby and Daughter zoom past us with grace, speed and chlorine'less nostrils, my Son and I do a desperate doggie paddle to mid-way & then splutter, snort & choke on the 'Show Off's' waves, trying to avoid being kicked in the face as they overtake.

Today though, we are prepared. We have our secret weapons of goggles, wetsuits and an 'Up Yours' attitude.  Now we are invincible!

Here we are on our first day in Tenerife. First day of the holidays and according to the locals, its the first day of crap weather, but we are Brits & not just any Brits, but Welsh Brits.  That means we are double hard buggers & a lack of sunshine and warmth does not get in the way of us getting into our swimming cossies & dunking ourselves into freezing pools!  I tell my kids this as I slather their 'Mums talking pants' expressions in factor 50, then shove them reluctantly towards the pool.

There we were, the four of us stood, arms crossed around our shivering bodies, dipping blue toes into the arctic water.  Aware the locals were watching us amused, Hubby does what all ex-squaddies do.  With all the exhibitionist , crowd pleasing dramatics he could display, he dives Tom Daley style into water cold enough to freeze a penguins pecker.  Unfortunately for the kids, they inherited my bloody-mindedness DNA; we will never be beaten or look like wimps. Ever!  In we plop. Bbrrrr....

So as FlashSplash and Mermaid do their thing, me and my little dude do ours.  What only we know however, is that we have been practising for months at our local pool.  "Come on you two, you swim like Grannies" yells my ex-daughter, earning herself a mutinous look from the swarms of sun-wrinkled, leather-skinned grannies who are flopping over nearby balconies.  My boy and I adopt an instinctive 'Guns at Sundown' stance (allowing for a little water-wobbling), snap on the goggles, Ziiiipp up the wetsuit and from somewhere in the distance, a lone cowboy whistles (hey, my story, I'm sticking to it)

"Lets do it" and were off like rockets.  Our arms were like windmills in a hurricane, our legs kicking up a tsunami, tidal waving everyone in our path. Until that is, we were 3/4 of the way across and realised we were in the deep-end.  OMG, Snort, Choke, Splutter, we clung onto each other for grim death, literally drowning each other until Hubby, who's big feet could still touch the floor, came over and laughingly rescued us.

Ok, it was day one.  You should have seen us by day five.

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