the crone

opening the door to ideas

My cat Jinx was found dead about 2 weeks ago. He loved being brushed, and I tweeted about collecting his fur in a pot, joking that ‘I could make another cat’. Not such a joke now. But I used his fur to make the Heart of Jinx. Then I made a cuddly Jinx out of …

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There was a zombie woman on my early morning train. Her face was a skeleton. Smooth tea-coloured skin stretched over dry bones. Milky blank eyes of faint cataract blue. Colourless dry wisps of hair stuck to the dome of her skull. Her maw was opened. Dark. Like a tunnel. The dry lips strained. Mouthing. She stared forward. Focusing …

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Sinking. That’s what I’ve been doing. Not writing. Not running. Not working. Not looking after myself. I’ve had long blank months where I could have written that novel/children’s story/poetry/comedy script/blog. And yet I do nothing. Except sink. The more I feel I *should* do something constructive, the more useless I feel. I’m drowning. I might thrash and …

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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 …

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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 …

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Now I’ve moved house, I’m trying to get back on track with my health and fitness. (Mmmm, just seeing the word ‘track’ makes me think of a delicious nutty treat…) I don’t need it. I think I am obsessed with food.   Having a wobble   So my week pans (…mmm crispy fried bacon) out like …

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I saw the birds perched in a tree at the end of the road. Black bird shapes on black branches, settled in silhouette against the cold white winter sky. I count 10. I think there are 10. What is in their minds? I know birds cannot be said to have consciousness of self in the …

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Did you read this story? See Homeless ex-pianist dies So many questions I’d like to ask Anne. Why would an obviously gifted woman choose a life on the edge? Living in a car (or on a railway embankment) must have been tough and uncomfortable. What words could’ve persuaded her to come back to ‘normal’ life? What is ‘normal’ life, anyway? Why …

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We were asked to donate a nearly-new cuddly toy to my boy’s school to raise funds in the Christmas raffle. My son decided to give away one of his precious teddies. The teddies of all shapes and sizes (and species) jumble together in a seemingly random heap, next to his pillow in bed. However, they apparently have a strict ranking and …

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