St David’s Day

The first day of the month of March may not mean much to you but if you’re Welsh you know it is an important day. It’s St David’s Day!

Traditional Welsh Dress

Things every Welsh person knows about St David’s Day

As kids in primary school every St David’s Day we would all be expected to come to school in full traditional Welsh regalia. For the girls that meant basically dressing up as an old welsh woman. Long skirts, a black bonnet with a white lacy frill around the neck strap that itched all day, a pinny or apron tied around the waist and a woollen shawl. The boys would dress up as coal miners with ties around their trousers just below the knee and shirts and caps. As the years went by more and more they would just wear their Welsh rugby jersey to school. I wasn’t jealous at all.

St David's Day
A modern version of St David’s Day dress up.

Most of the school day was taken up with an extended assembly in the hall. We would sing old Welsh songs like sosban fach and listen to poems about the green green grass of home. It was a fun day even though I always felt silly dressed up. If your Nan fancied continuing on with tradition you would have a welsh lamb roast dinner for tea.

Things I Did Not Know About St David’s Day


I always wondered what the dressing up was all about. Why did Welsh women wear big hats? I think it was just the fashion of the day. A bonnet would keep you warm as would a woollen shawl and of course wool was a readily available resource. Since having my children I have learned that Welsh women would also use their shawls to wrap carry their babies. When I found that out I felt a keen link to my ancestors because I loved wrap carrying my babies too.

I never knew what on earth I was singing when we sang sosban fach. I thought it was about sauce pans. I’ve just googled it and it is Welsh for ‘Little Saucepan.’ It’s a weird little song you can read about it here. We also sang the Welsh national anthem of which all I know to this day is ‘Gwlad, gwlad!’ Don’t ask me what it means!

Schools are very much more culturally aware now it seems, and the Welsh language has had a massive revival effort since I was a kid in the 80’s. There is a Welsh speaking club at my daughter’s school and children are encouraged to use Welsh whenever they are able. For instance, they all ask to go to the toilet in Welsh now. Hopefully they are being taught a bit more about Welsh traditions and cultural history than just being told to wear a pinny for the day.

St David – the man, the myth, the legend.

St David performed a miracle. Legend goes that he made the ground that he was preaching on rise up into a mound in order that his audience could hear him better. According to wiki St David the patron saint of Wales was a vegetarian who travelled a lot and preached a lot. You might be able to spot images of him or stained glass windows in old churches in Wales, he’s often depicted standing on a hill with a dove on his shoulder. It seems he was quite famous back in the day (c. 550).

Picture from Wiki Media.

Welsh Heritage

Protecting and preserving our Welsh heritage seems to have gone full circle. My great grandmother was from Merthyr Tydfil and she remembered the Welsh knot being used at school. She would have been a school aged child in the decade of 1910, her parents being late era Victorians. She was brought up a Welsh speaker, as was her whole house and probably street and entire community. She told me of how when she first started school she didn’t understand English and had to learn it and then of course her parents didn’t understand it so she would speak English at school and Welsh at home. The Welsh knot was a lump of wood on a string and if you were caught speaking Welsh in the classroom you were handed it. If you were unlucky enough to be the owner of the Welsh knot at the end of the school day, you would face corporal punishment.

When I was at school it seemed my year group were the last ones still educated under this hangover from way back when and studying Welsh was made compulsory in the national curriculum for every year group after ours.

Now it is at the forefront of education in Wales. There are Welsh medium schools across Wales and in English medium schools all children are introduced to Welsh and practise it daily right from nursery.

Cymru Am Byth!

Welsh people all across the world will be celebrating their culture and heritage on March 1st – St David’s Day. Waving the Welsh flag and wearing daffodils and marching in processions throughout various towns and cities.

When you’re trying to find a costume for the kids this St David’s Day for school or shouting at the rugby on the T.V. in the 6 nations in the spring take a second to think of all the people before us who have protected our heritage and culture to pass on to the next generation to be proud of where they’re from. WALES FOREVER!

Cymru Am Byth

All About Belonging with Passports and Adventures

All About Belonging with Catherine Jordan

Cath is an Irish expat who now lives in Portugal with her husband and son. A former scientist, she gave up working when they emigrated south from the UK. She is a family travel blogger and hopes that, through her blog, they will inspire more families to travel, especially with the toddlers in tow. As a family they love travelling and have started working their way through their family travel bucket list. Cath writes about their family travels and experiences on her blog Passports and Adventures.

If someone gave you the chance to live in a warmer country and give up work, would you jump at the chance? Even if it meant leaving behind a life you loved and moving somewhere where you didn’t speak the language. I did.

My husband has wanted to live in a hot country for as long as I can remember. He never stopped moaning about the wind and rain, whether we lived in Ireland (where we’re from) or in the UK. He always said he wanted to move somewhere warm, or hot, and I would agree, nodding my head, thinking “yeah, when we retire”.

My parents had been holidaying in Portugal for many years and had decided it was where they wanted to retire to. My Dad always wanted to return to a hot country and, since he knew some Portuguese having worked with some Portuguese nationals during his time in Angola, my Mum agreed as she knew he at least spoke the basics of the language. They spent time travelling around before finally deciding the Algarve was where they wanted to base themselves.

In September 2016 they bought their holiday home and set things in motion for my Mum to retire from work, my Dad having retired many years before her. We thought “brilliant, we’ve got somewhere to go for holidays”. Then, the tenants in our rental house moved out and the new tenants became a nightmare from day one. So much so, we paid for them to move out and put the house on the market. We didn’t need the hassle and thought we could use the money to buy a holiday home in Portugal near my parents.

Holiday home talk turned to talk of a more permanent move and at Christmas we made the decision to sell up and move to Portugal for several reasons. One, to stop my husband complaining so much about the weather. Two, to give our son a more outdoor life. We had realised that by the age of three he had spent more than two thirds of his life stuck indoors because it was too cold and miserable to let him play outside. And three, the tax breaks were better for my self-employed husband.

Fast forward five months, and with the car packed to the brim, we set off on our marathon two-day journey to drive from the UK to the Algarve via the Santander ferry. We arrived in May and the summer was soon approaching but we got settled into our new home and enjoyed seeing my parents on a regular basis after fifteen years of living away from them. Our son started forming a proper relationship with his grandparents and life started to take on a more normal routine. That routine becoming more settled once our son started Portuguese preschool.

However, it hasn’t all been a bed of roses for me. While my husband is thrilled and topping up his tan, and while my son is enjoying being outdoors and having fun with new friends, I’ve increasingly felt like I’m lost, like I have no sense of belonging anymore. To the point where if you gave me the option to move on, I’d jump at the chance.

The language barrier is a big reason why I feel quite unsettled compared to the boys. Our son is talking and understanding Portuguese as he is immersed in it from 9am to 4pm in preschool. My husband is picking up bits here and there, but his work life hasn’t changed one bit. He works remotely and speaks English all day. However, I am the one at the frontline, trying to cobble together what I can to speak to people. And my favourite phrase in response is often (in Portuguese) “sorry I only speak a little Portuguese”. Now, 50% of the time the person I’m trying to speak to has some English, enough that we can get our points across. However, the other 50% of the time they don’t, and we’re completely lost. It never helps when you are trying to do something official like get social security numbers for everyone, so our son can stay in school. Or to register with the local health centre, again because we need something from them for school. And as I don’t work, it’s always me who has to do it.

As mentioned I don’t work, having given up my job as a scientist before we left the UK. I left a job I had grown to love and cannot work in Portugal within the same industry because I don’t speak the language fluently. And I really miss my job. I recently returned to Wales to see my ex-work colleagues and it really hit home how much I miss my old job. I didn’t spend nine years in university getting a PhD to sit at home twiddling my thumbs all day. I feel wasted and I’ve really lost a big part of myself as a result. Yes, I have my blog to keep me busy, but it’s just not the same as going into work and wondering what’s going to come through the doors for me to get my teeth into.

Last summer, as we settled in, everything was a bit of a whirlwind and it partly felt like an extended holiday. Once our son started going to school, that’s when my sense of not belonging started to set in. But the worst thing is I can’t tell my husband outright as he’s living his best life. He loves it here, yet not much has changed for him other than the weather is better. He still has his job, albeit for a different client, and he travels regularly for work. He doesn’t need to do much of the “official stuff”, and the bits he does he can do in English because the bank manager and his accountant all have very good English. It’s me who must do all the struggling with everything else.

I’ve started dropping hints that I don’t feel Portugal is our forever home, that I am not going to die of old age here. He’s half-heartedly joked about moving to New Zealand, a part of the world I swore I’d never move to because it would be so far away from our families. But my parents aren’t getting any younger. My Dad is eleven years older than my Mum and I genuinely feel if he goes before her, she’ll move back to Ireland, even if we are still here. So, I’ve said New Zealand can be on the cards for another move. My reason; to be able to go into any office, supermarket, building and know that no matter who I need to deal with we will be speaking in English. Everything is just so much harder when you are struggling with a difficult language.

It’s not as if I am not trying. I have a good grasp of the basics and have been taking lessons, although I’m on a break as my teacher is on maternity leave. But I just don’t feel like I’ll ever get good enough at the language to hold a full conversation or even enough to apply for a job. Yes, I want to work again, and I want to return to science in the future. I don’t want to feel like my university years are going to waste.

I want to live in a country where I don’t struggle on a daily basis. I want to be able to understand every word someone says to me when they speak to me. I want to make friends, something I haven’t been able to do because I don’t work and none of the mums at the school gates speak English. They’re polite enough and nod, smile and say “Bom Dia” as we pass, but I feel rather alone in this country.

Don’t get me wrong, not all of it is bad. The weather is great, although I can’t take the heat of July and August. It’s unbearable and made worst because our son is off school in those months and it gets too hot to go anywhere with him during the day. We have no things like soft play or bowling near us, so we’re stuck together, in a tiny two-bedroom holiday home, while my husband tries to do work calls around us.

The cost of living is cheaper than the UK or Ireland, and the people we have met and interacted with are lovely, especially when they know we are trying with the language. We’ve got my parents close to us, which is so lovely after 15 years apart.

But deep down, I know we’re going to have to move again, for me this time. I cannot put my hand on my heart and say I love it in Portugal. I like it but given half the chance to move to an English-speaking country and I’d be gone in a flash. And if New Zealand talk springs up, I’ll encourage it. I’ve even hinted I’d move to America, another country I always said I couldn’t live in.

We left a beautiful six-bedroom house in Wales and I left a great job when we took the leap of faith to move. And while I don’t regret it, I know deep down this isn’t my forever home, whatever my husband thinks. For now, our son is settled, my husband isn’t complaining about the weather anymore (it’s me doing the complaining instead), my parents are close by and we’re saving for a bigger home, although we might not buy a house. But if anything happens to my parent’s situation, or if our dog dies sooner than we think, I’ll be actively encouraging my husband to agree to a round-the-world-trip as a family, with a view to settling in an English-speaking country when the time comes for our son to attend high school. I am lost and really don’t feel like I belong anymore. And that’s got to change in the future. I just don’t know when – that light at the end of the tunnel isn’t even a faint blur yet.






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Mum Talk – Talk Mums!

I went out to the cinema last night with a female friend. I haven’t done that for ages, it was lovely. We were chatting in the car ride there and back (because we drove 20 minutes to get to a cinema that only charges £3.50 per seat) and the conversation turned to how challenging general life can sometimes be as a mum. Life as a mum is full of joyful moments and full of happiness in the main part but sometimes it is hard. There’s no getting away from it. But do we as mums talk about it enough?

Picture Perfect

Mum Talk

Life as a mum can be hard in many different ways but we were generally discussing the juggle of all. The. Things. I have a lot of thoughts about community and support network and how vital and simultaneously lacking they are in modern motherhood but I’m sure you’ve read a lot of that lately. What we got into last night was the all-pervading idea that when you’re a mum everything should be picture perfect.

I personally felt very vulnerable when I was pregnant. It’s not something I bring up a lot because often when I talk about being pregnant it’s because I’m with a pregnant friend and I feel like I don’t want to put a downer on things. I don’t talk about my second baby’s traumatic birth unless it’s with people who were around me at the time. I certainly don’t talk about it to pregnant women because I don’t want to scare them or make them think it might happen to them. Interestingly, the last time I opened up to a friend I hadn’t seen for a while about it she explained that she had in fact experienced a similar birth. The odds of which are so very slim it was almost funny. Almost.

Mum Talk

I have more than a couple of life experiences I keep in a hidden lock box particularly relating to my life since becoming a mum. I think we all do, and isn’t it a shame? Because maybe if we all talked more about the difficult experiences as well as the amazing we would all feel more empowered as mums.

Hopefully you have those friends you feel you can have a moan to and you don’t feel judged by if you say you’re having a rubbish day. Perhaps those friends are in a similar position to you in their lives. I hope you have those friends. But perhaps we also need to be bolder in sharing the big things with mums we don’t know so well?

I’m not even entirely convinced it’s the right thing to do. Maybe there’s a balance? For instance, maybe if I had been more forward in sharing my baby’s birth story it could have helped another pregnant woman feel braver to ask for an extra scan. Yet also I know there was a time when it was just all too raw to talk about at all.

Help or Hindrance?

I think we also need to consider is it relevant? If a mum is having a hard time breastfeeding and we share how we got over some obstacles that may be helpful. Do you think it is still helpful to go into detail about the hard journey you had with breastfeeding if mum is doing just fine? I’m not so sure. When I was pregnant first time round I had a lot of women tell me how hard they found breastfeeding (sometimes completely unsolicited) to the point where I was under the impression that breastfeeding was nigh on impossible. I would say “I’m hoping to breastfeed” rather than “I’m going to breastfeed” because 1. I felt like I was being naïve to say it absolutely and 2. I didn’t want to offend anyone who had found it hard!

Pregnancy and motherhood are such an emotional time in our lives. Things like birth and breastfeeding are emotive topics. Perhaps being vocal about our difficult times needs thoughtful timing. But I do think if we were all just a bit braver in sharing our bad experiences it would help to alleviate some of the immense pressure to be perfect.

Holding Space

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we all learned how to listen to one another without taking the other person’s experience as a reflection on ourselves or what we do? I’ve heard this referred to as ‘holding space’ and I think it is one of my all-time favourite phrases. If we were all able to ‘hold space’ for one another, the bad experiences might get mixed in more with the amazing and that would facilitate a more universally realistic reflection of the experience of motherhood.

Talk to your mum friends today. It might bolster them. Let’s chase down the picture-perfect ideal and kick it back to way back when!

How do you feel about this topic? Do you feel OK talking about the big things as well as the everyday? Do you think you would feel more comfortable sharing your hard experiences if you heard other women doing the same?

All About Belonging with Picking Up Toys

All about belonging is a blogger guest series – you guessed it – all about belonging. I have invited other bloggers to share their stories, thoughts, opinions, and ideas to do with the theme belonging here on Kate Lili Blog. I hope this guest series showcases the variety of views on belonging, and the many ways having or not having felt a sense of belonging has affected people’s individual life experience. Each new guest post will go out on Wednesdays at 6pm so stay tuned.
I’m chuffed to welcome Julie to my blog to share her thoughts on belonging. Julie is mum to 3 children, one teenager, one 9 year old and one 6 year old so she has a breadth of experience. Oh and she also works full time while blogging too. So an all round super star in my book! Julie is one of the few people I’d count as a blogger friend so I’m really pleased to share her guest post about belonging.


Julie – Picking Up Toys

Have you always felt that you belonged? Always just slotted in somewhere and bumped along nicely or do you always end up feeling like the piece of a jigsaw that got kicked under a table by mistake? You were important for a while but quickly forgotten and moved on from. If you’d just been found and the dust blown off you might have slotted in and made a huge difference.

Work Friends

When I was younger I always felt I belonged. I was shy and quiet but never really had any trouble making or keeping friends, in the street, at school or even Brownies. I kept the same group of friends throughout my school years but once school ended those friendships sadly drifted apart. People moved away, moved on and remember those years with fondness.
I started working and forged new friendships easily, I worked in a bar where everyone grouped together, went around to each other’s houses and there was always someone to have a night out with, I even shared a house with my best mate. We had our struggles but mostly we loved it. I met people from all sorts of backgrounds and liked lots of different things about them. We all had different music tastes, different views on life and different families but we just accepted everyone for who they were.
Then I moved onto a call centre where again I had an abundance of friends / colleagues and people I could share a cigarette and a gossip with. Those friendships were just as easy to fall into. Sat next to the same group of people it was normal to spark up a conversation over a love of cake or a mutual eye roll over a particularly tricky customer. Nights out were often planned for all to get involved and the friendships at work spilled into ‘real life’.

Lost Confidence

Fast forward 10 years and I’m in a completely different situation altogether. I don’t really feel like I belong at all. At home, of course I belong, to my kids, my partner and immediate family I’m hugely important but outside of that I don’t have a huge circle of friends. Actually I don’t even have what you’d call a small circle of friends. As most of the friends I’ve had in the past have come from work I really struggle with being only 1 of 2 people that work where I do.
The longer it’s gone on the more I now struggle to make friends, I’ve completely lost my confidence.  I can’t just walk up to strangers and start chatting it makes me really nervous and like I’ll say the wrong thing so I tend to be the one that everyone talks ‘around’. Whenever I go to work meetings and see people I more or less see only once a year, we do the cursory “hi, how are you?” and that’s about it. Maybe they think I’m arrogant and up myself? Maybe they just think I’m rude but rarely will anybody make an attempt to coax me over to their ‘clique’. I’m often the one pretending to look for something in the bottom of my handbag because I have no clue what else to do with myself.

Adult Friendships

I don’t know where to begin to change it though. How do you start to belong again? Where do you search for an elusive group to belong to, that accept you for who you are? It’s so much more difficult as an adult to try and make friends. You can’t just admire someone’s hula hoop and ask if you can play, that would just be too weird, so how do you do it? I am the first to encourage my children to get involved and talk to other kids, to make friends but how hypocritical am I being when I can barely do it myself?
I wouldn’t say I’m particularly unhappy but I would love to have a group of people I can belong to and call good friends. One day I’m sure it will happen again. Even if it’s just Doris, Lizzie, Pat and I giggling like idiots in the old folks home.

julie-x-2 (1)

You can read more on Julie’s blog called Picking Up Toys. I love this recent one I Survived Parenting A Teenage Boy

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All About Belonging with Artie Carden

All about belonging is a blogger guest series – you guessed it – all about belonging. I have invited other bloggers to share their stories, thoughts, opinions, and ideas to do with the theme belonging here on Kate Lili Blog. I hope this guest series showcases the variety of views on belonging, and the many ways having or not having felt a sense of belonging has affected people’s individual life experience. Each new guest post will go out on Wednesdays at 6pm so stay tuned.

I am delighted to welcome Artie Carden as my first guest blogger for this series. Artie’s blog focuses on writing content for people who feel marginalised by mainstream media. Having personal experience of this is what motivates Artie to fill the gap. An absolutely perfect first guest blogger for a series all about belonging! This post about belonging takes a look at Artie’s experience of identifying as bisexual at school and what it felt like to find a home in the end at uni. Thanks Artie for getting in touch.



I’ve always had a lot of friends, or more like acquaintances, in different groups. I have always been able to get on with all kinds of people, but is that really belonging?

In school, I knew these kids on a superficial level; I knew enough about them to keep up conversation and I’ve always been very good at making people laugh. I couldn’t really get along with their friends though… I had one or two friends per clique, and the others always looked at me with blank stares like I was an alien specimen or they’d make fun of me.

I would have my main group I’d normally hang out with, and I would get on with more of them than other groups. Really though, they weren’t very nice to me either. They told me I was annoying and a suck up and would stare me down if a joke didn’t land well. I can’t forget about the occasional body shaming and being bullied by them for not being sexually experienced (I was 14-15 at the time…). On top of all that, I’m bisexual. I learned this term because of this friendship group and am still a proud bisexual person almost 10 years later, so I have to thank them for that. It just involved more shaming from them.

Groups of Friends

The girls of the group all identified as bisexual and looking back I don’t think they did at all. It was a fashionable and edgy thing to be (and being a group of emo kids, you gotta be pretty edgy) and it was often used to seduce boys. It just made me feel more undesirable: how were these girls kissing boys and girls, and I wasn’t really kissing anyone?

I can hear you shouting at your screen ‘why didn’t you just leave?’ Well, that’s a lot more difficult to do than say. At this point in my life I was suffering with Severe Depression, I self-harmed and attempted to take my life more than once all because I felt completely alone. I’d been alienated in every group I’d gotten close to and felt like the communal punching bag to make people feel better by taking abuse. These other people I spoke to? I couldn’t tell them any of this, and with them I got to be someone else, someone who was funny and charming and a little ridiculous but friendly and fun.

I think the only way I survived this time of my life was getting to be someone else for periods of time. I thrived on stage and people loved me, but when I’d step off set I wasn’t liked anymore. I did eventually leave this group and remained friends with a few of them for a couple of years.


Mental Health

My biggest trigger for my mental health is feeling alone, like there’s no one I can go to for support, no one who will accept me for who I am.

Belonging, to me, is finding ‘your people’. These people learn who you really are behind the bravado. I had two people during school and neither were part of this group (surprise, surprise…) one of them I still see and speak to now 12 years later. They weren’t around a whole lot, but they were there when I needed someone.

Uni Friends

I didn’t feel like I belonged anywhere until I went to university three years ago. I found my people whilst at university, my writer friends, my LGBT+ friends, my fun hilarious and brilliantly intelligent friends.

These people have seen me at my most incredible, my most vulnerable, in love, heartbroken, and they’ve seen me battle my mental health. They have listened to the ridiculous rants at 2am and have also told me when I’m in the wrong, which is super important because you know they aren’t pandering to you and they want you to thrive and better yourself!

It’s okay to struggle to find your place, we will have many places in our lives and sometimes it takes a while to find somewhere that feels like home. Hold on and take care of yourself first. If people don’t like you, then never mind. It hurts but you don’t need them. Your people will find you eventually.

~ Artie Carden

Read more of Artie’s blog at:

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If you liked that, you will like this post about belonging too.