Last weekend I went to Northampton with about 60 other women and 2 men and made a wonky star. Here it is: - I made it in a pyrotechnics workshop - actually, I think it was called pyrography but pyrotechnics sounds better. It's where you burn patterns on wood. In my head, my plan was … Continue reading My Wonky Star
I stare at the sign in amusement. Let's all get home safely? What's that all about? I know I don't get out much and I haven't, thankfully, been on the M1 for a while, but have I missed a sea change in British culture? I mean, it's a bit pally isn't it? Surely, Wishing you a safe journey, or … Continue reading Empty nests and the unnecessary use of signage
I'm trying to decide how to age. Not on the outside - I have little choice about that and am coming to terms with veiny hands and neck wrinkles like the skin of a T Rex - but on the inside, where it counts. After all that's the only part I can control. Like when … Continue reading How to Age and the Joy of Nasal Flushing
It's been a strange week. I'm on my way home from work after what is called a challenging day. It's a fitting end really; that is to say, there is darkness, traffic, and rain-galloping cats and dogs. And the lower lid of my right eye keeps doing this thing where it moves without my help. Like … Continue reading Advent, sheep and a kiss from a stranger
I am guest-blogging for my friend, Fran Hill, with my latest post about windows. You can catch it here at - http://ilurveenglish.blogspot.co.uk/2014/10/reasons-to-look-out-of-windows-guest.html Have a look around her site while you're there. It will brighten your day no end...
When I was a little girl, my dad used to line up all the family’s shoes on a Sunday night and clean them. So I had never cleaned a shoe in my life. In fact I didn’t even know where the shoe cleaning stuff was kept or where to buy it. My father just produced … Continue reading Shoes and Other Taboos
The old man leans on the gate at the edge of the park. It is heavier than he remembers but then so are most things. Like his own stomach and the bag of weekly shopping. He sighs. If only he had taken better care of himself when the whole damn thing had started – the … Continue reading Waiting for Grandad
I hate closing doors – on the house, the classroom, the car - there’s always a tiny stab of panic just before the lip of the door hits the jamb. Sometimes I have to go back and check things – the oven, heater, brake. I don’t quite know why. Call me O.C.D. but I suppose … Continue reading Hunting for Small and other Sacred Pathways