Christmas, eh. It’s all well and good if you are in a happy place. But when you’re not, Christmas is something that can push you over the tinsel-bedecked edge. “Joy to the World!” pipes the tinny supermarket muzak as you watch sad, grim-faced people gazing at boxes of SuperValu mince pies. It can feel miserable. …
I’ve been researching the rise of ‘Pauper funerals’ in the UK. Also called Section 46 funerals, these are burials that are paid for by the local authority when someone dies alone, with no known next of kin. What struck me as I read through case studies, watched news articles and looked up Gazette postings, is that when …
I’ve had no ideas lately. No wonderful words have slipped through my mind. No scintillating thoughts I feel feel driven to share. No things. No thing. So, I am borrowing a few of my favourite words. I’m just going to leave them here. And see if they start talking to each other. Perspicacious. Crystal. Ethereal. Emerald. Ocean. Sapphire. Translucent. Equinox. Jewelled. Satsuma. …
What if we could treat each day as arriving on a new planet. What if each dawn was a new beginning on our own fresh, clean world. What if the grass or stone we walked on this morning had never been walked on before. How pure and clean life would feel. Just standing, looking up into …
Apprentice fever has hit our house again. I hate it (well, I love to hate it). It’s a guilty pleasure. Jeering at the candidates’ mistakes that all seem so obvious from the safety of your sofa, arguing with Lord Sugarpuff’s boardroom decisions and deriding the outrageously scripted puns. But once again what strikes me is how horribly uncooperative …
I’ve been talking to another blogger fourhillsfarm64 about the legacy of being a child who has grown up and lived with the long-term disease and death of a parent (or loved one). I’ve covered some of my own thoughts and experiences on this in previous posts. The outside calm and the inside crying My father was disabled and horribly ill for most of my …
I hate feeling that I’m ‘past it’. That maybe, just maybe, I’m now considered ‘too old’ to be a writer in advertising and marketing. This insecurity is all in my own head. Probably. But I’ve been mulling (ooh I love a good mull) over my 25-odd years in the business, and I’ve noticed a running theme. Good …
I just re-read a book by accident. It was Stephen King’s Misery. I don’t read horror books any more (I still watch horror films though). So, I was just looking through one of the many boxes of books I still haven’t unpacked since moving house, when Misery kind of fell into my hand. Then it sort of opened. Then my eyes started reading …
Walking to the station this morning. The Chemical Brothers banging away in my earphones. I was striding along. Pumping bass. Deafening synth chords. But, it was all a bit… loud. I got to thinking, “Is this the music I need to hear?” “Am I really enjoying these hyper dance sounds at 8.30am on a beautifully tranquil English summer …
I am in one of those stupid defeatist moods where I keep typing stuff then deleting it. The Inner-Critic is on my shoulder poking and laughing at my blog entries and calling me a pretentious twat. Or else he’s yawning and saying how boring it is. Criticism. It can make you improve. Energize you to do …
the crone 