Life has its own rhythms, its own cadence, its own poetic beat. It could be Larkin, it could be Whitman, we may go Shakespearean or find the Albion of William Blake. We might discover tranquillity or dazzlingly riotous splendour or find life monotonous and an utter bore. We can lose ourselves in its texture, in … Continue reading Blossoming Paws
She shrank away, down grey blighted streets, where the red-bricked terraces shrank back in surprise; and all the signs on shops looked aged and faded. Leaves ushered assorted admonishments; trees stood dismissive and unearthed; a shopkeeper raised his criss-cross brow: for where do we go after birth? She lay in her abandoned place, memory tight … Continue reading The Fallen Woman
I loved stilton, cut with a speared knife, placed on paper napkin, eaten, down by the river, where the blue tits flitter, and the sky has a buttermilk sheen, and I loved Roquefort, and mellow Shropshire Blue, with a whole load of plum chutney, and an oat cracker or two. I loved sausages, fiery skinned … Continue reading An Ode to Stilton.
I'm over at the Depression Army today talking about depression. http://www.depressionarmy.com/ourblog/2017/7/16/memories-of-depression
My latest post about adoption over at Psych Central. https://blogs.psychcentral.com/adoption/2017/06/10-things-not-to-say-to-an-adoptee/
I'm over on Psych Central again today talking about adoption again. https://blogs.psychcentral.com/adoption/2017/06/27-2/
I've been given the wonderful opportunity to have my own blog over at Psych Central. I wanted a place to speak about mental illness, adoption, life on larger scale for a while, so I am incredibly excited. My blog is called Adoption: Rewriting Our Narratives and it will be updated weekly. Here is the link https://blogs.psychcentral.com/adoption/2017/05/they-found-me-in-a-vegetable-crate/ … Continue reading They Found Me In A Vegetable Crate
Bob Lightfoot held the large, shiny packet in his hand. It contained exactly 150 grams. He tore it open and removed the contents one by one. Piled them on top of the wooden table in front of him. A table full of dirty pots and pans, an opened jar of Strawberry Jam, a loaf of … Continue reading Bob Lightfoot.
A short story involving Thatcher, a crime and a long hot school holiday, published by the fabulous, Sick Lit Magazine. I do hope you like it. https://sicklitmagazine.com/2017/04/21/memories-by-henrietta-ross/