Philippa Robinson
Bio
Socially impaired and creatively optimistic.
Stories (8/0)
The Pied Pippa
I am cursed with the knowledge that I have a friendship limit. By this I don’t mean that I can only have so many friends, but rather I acknowledge that there is a side to me that only true friends will put up with. This side of my personality inevitably rears its ugly head when people have known me for a certain length of time. It’s when the crazy comes out, it can take years, it could be hours of time spent together. It merely lies in wait, waiting for some flash of recognition, a hint of zane in the other person and then BAM, she’s here. The real me. The girl who doesn’t censor her speech, swears too much, unloads geekery, sends too many Buzzfeed links, reads YA fiction, and puts on the delightful voice of Sally Sourbottom. I have seriously been punched for putting on that voice.
By Philippa Robinson6 years ago in Families
Bad Parenting 101
So…I locked my child in the car on Monday. Picture this: a stressful morning, running late, a screaming toddler who doesn’t want to leave his daddy. I fight, like all good mothers do, to get my toddler into his car seat whilst he alternates between lightning rod straight and wobbly toddler jelly and, at this point, I throw my handbag onto the driver's seat. Toddler safely stowed in car, daddy bid farewell, I close the door, and then the sound that shall haunt me for at least the foreseeable future—"LOCK."
By Philippa Robinson6 years ago in Families
The Blackout and the Baby Centaur
I used to live in a village that, though lovely, liked to remind me that it wasn't perfect. It did this through the aggressive old ladies who ruled it, through the pub I didn’t enter because I was from "the other end of the village," and from the occasional flickering light.
By Philippa Robinson6 years ago in Families
Fleeting Thought
Dene flexed his wrists upwards, barely an inch of movement and certainly not enough to scratch his nose. He eyed the door again. Although he could see movement from the short shadows on the floor, the lack of windows offered no hint as to when their owners would enter the room. Thanks to the strap across his forehead, he could barely move his head to either side, and the slightly squat position put too much pressure on his spine. Dene knew that the moment he was released he would be in agony. He was pretty sure his detainment was against his civil rights, let alone the physical restraints, and the moment someone came for him he was going to tell them.
By Philippa Robinson6 years ago in Criminal