Why thank you!

I recently looked at my Google analytics stats for this blog – something I’d never done since setting it up. I didn’t (and still don’t) want to make it about the numbers. As I’ve said before, blogging is cheaper than therapy. If others like to read it then that’s great too :)

But I was really quite shocked at how many hits my little blog gets – it was interesting to see where in the world my readers are based and what the most read blog posts have been thus far. The first thing they teach you in journalism school is ‘know your audience’ but I ignored this for the blog and wrote entirely for myself….but it turns out that I have an audience and one that likes what I do.

I’d like to dedicate this post to every one of you who reads my blog! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I am SO grateful to anyone who makes the time to read what I’ve written, for all the encouragement and ‘likes’ that you always give….it means SO much to me!! As a typical journalism graduate, I have this fantasy of writing novels for a living. I’ve had it since high school actually. But it’s not yet happened…many things came along the paths I chose and my confidence in my writing waned. Since starting this blog just over a year ago, things have been clicking into place again for me.

Ever since I’ve had Gus, and the events leading up to his arrival, have sparked an intense writer’s gush (opposite of block) that has me composing at least two new posts in my head every day and about 50 half written posts in the blog back end system. Clearly, having a baby has been great fodder for my inspiration!

It appears my most popular posts are the ones about Gus, the funny ones like Hilarious conversations. But my intention is not for this to become a mummy blog. There are just too many much much better ones out there (utilising better grammar!) and I can’t go down that route, I don’t want to limit myself to just one subject area.

So thank you again! I’d love to get to know and interact with my audience more – let me know who you are and what you enjoy reading here!

Have a great day, I’m going back to my digging…



Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests; snug as a gun.
Under my window, a clean rasping sound
When the spade sinks into gravelly ground:
My father, digging. I look down
Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds
Bends low, comes up twenty years away
Stooping in rhythm through potato drills
Where he was digging.
The coarse boot nestled on the lug, the shaft
Against the inside knee was levered firmly.
He rooted out tall tops, buried the bright edge deep
To scatter new potatoes that we picked,
Loving their cool hardness in our hands.
By God, the old man could handle a spade.
Just like his old man.
My grandfather cut more turf in a day
Than any other man on Toner’s bog.
Once I carried him milk in a bottle
Corked sloppily with paper. He straightened up
To drink it, then fell to right away
Nicking and slicing neatly, heaving sods
Over his shoulder, going down and down
For the good turf. Digging.
The cold smell of potato mould, the squelch and slap
Of soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edge
Through living roots awaken in my head.
But I’ve no spade to follow men like them.
Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests.
I’ll dig with it.
  • Sarah Fidd

    Hi Marita,

    Love your blog.. For the record my personal favourites
    Pre-Gus = Fail Friday
    Post-Gus = The Sleep Association

    Love the diversity of what you share here.

    • Marita

      Thanks so much Sarah! Great to get your feedback :)