the crone

opening the door to ideas

Sir Nicholas Winton died this week. If you want to know who he was and what he did, read a bit about him at The Power of Good. He rescued around 669 children from the Nazi death camps. It was only when his attic was being cleared that the story of what he had done became …

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I got a call (well, a tweet) from an ex-colleague on Monday, offering me the chance of a few days work at a large ad agency in London. As I’m not that busy with my own business, I thought ‘Why not?’ I’d give it a go. Just a few days writing. A few days freelance. …

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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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My blog has been sadly neglected. Poor little bloggy. Moved house. Moving on. Saying goodbye to some things. It was quite cleansing to unburden myself. Going through piles of papers. Throwing out crumpled cartoons, wrinkled pages of writing, years and years worth of diaries. It’s like taking a weight off the mind or soul. I mean, if you haven’t looked at …

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Why do we become who we become? I puzzle over this a lot. Fixated that I could’ve been better, done better, achieved more, ‘if only’, ‘if only’, ‘if only…’ Who were you supposed to be? Apparently, who we become isn’t just a matter of nature or nurture. For instance, murderers and psychopaths are both born …

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So, I went for a walk, and I stood to watch the river as it slid past. The sunshine made the water’s surface a mass of glinting white lines and triangles of light. Moving. Animated. Shining gulls over smooth green glass. I stared, mesmerised by the changing surface. Then I got the sudden vivid impression, the absolute …

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Three young artists diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis were given a brief — to create something good out of something bad. The one above I thought was beautiful and thought-provoking. The birds look longingly into the sky; maybe they feel grounded? Are they thinking they will never fly again? Do they miss their wings? Whatever has happened to their bodies, they are …

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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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