• poem,  Uncategorized

    A Gentle Reminder

      Sometimes worry comes calling, and stresses abound, And there’s too much to do, and yet time can’t be found, And your stomach’s in knots, and your head is in bits, And you’re starting to wonder if vodka’s the fix.   And your life has begun to feel slightly unglued, And you can’t even seem to find two matching shoes, And your top’s inside-out, and your plans are reversed, And you start to suspect that you might have been cursed.   And if this has been you, (as indeed it’s been me), And this feeling has left you completely at sea, Just know that in this, there are many like…

  • Communication,  life lessons,  open letter,  personal

    Notes for a Younger Me

    When I look at photographs of myself when I was younger, I experience a strange, out-of-body feeling. It doesn’t feel like I’m looking at myself. It feels like I’m looking at someone else. The child of someone I know, maybe, or a distant relative. It doesn’t feel like me. Sometimes this slightly freaks me out, because it makes me wonder if this is how it will always be. In twenty years’ time will I look at photos of myself now and feel like a different person? Will I have changed that much? Will I feel like the experiences and memories and thoughts of Now Me are so removed and foreign…

  • friends,  personal,  shopping

    Retail Therapy

    Yesterday I bought myself an uncharacteristically pink jumper. I am not really a pink person. I can probably count on one hand the number of pink items in my wardrobe, and they are all varying versions of “nude”. ‘Girlie‘ isn’t really my style, partly because I was raised to think ‘girlie’ was a synonym for ‘simpering halfwit’ and partly because now that I know that’s not the case I feel… unworthy. Floral, ruffled, pink things with bows are for delicate, graceful butterfly people who can braid their own hair and wear white without getting stained in the first five minutes, not galloping whirlwinds of disaster who wear black to disguise…

  • so that happened

    The Circle: Film Rant

    I know movie reviews are not usually in my wheelhouse, but I just watched a movie so bad, so viciously irredeemable, that I feel it’s my duty to make sure nobody else puts themselves through the misery of watching it. So this is your warning. If you have not yet watched ‘The Circle‘, do future-you a favour and wipe its very existence from your memory. I knew nothing about this movie going in except that the cast included Tom Hanks (the Good Guy of modern cinema and celebrities in general), Hermione, Patton Oswalt, the Stormtrooper from The Force Awakens and that red-haired companion from Dr. Who. I mean, that is…

  • personal,  Thoughts on...

    Temper, Temper

    I have anger issues. Or rather, I have a single anger issue. It’s not an issue clouded in a dangerous red haze, that bursts from my forehead like the emotional descendant of Athena, explosively demanding TO SPEAK TO THE MANAGER! No. It’s the other kind of issue. My anger issue is that I am not terribly good at expressing my anger. Either I am emotionally involved – in which case my eyes invariably leak in a way that looks suspiciously like crying but is, in fact, just a watery expression of intense frustration – or I am not emotionally involved, in which case I would just rather not, thankyouverymuch. Here…

  • so that happened

    Toast Seems to be The Hardest Word

    I look at the brunch menu in my hand as if it is written in Sanskrit. What is ‘endive’?  Why ‘avocado bruschetta’ and not just regular bruschetta? Why a ‘3-egg omelette’? Who needs three eggs in the morning? Isn’t that awfully inflexible? What happened to poached eggs and toast? I flip the menu over and finally find what I was looking for; namely scrambled eggs on toast, goujons, french toast, and bacon butties. They are clustered together in a section marked disdainfully as only for ‘Under 12’s’. Ridiculous, I think, flapping the menu in distress. Are omelettes now considered more mature than scrambled eggs? Does the way you like your…

  • personal,  Thoughts on...

    Staying Alive

    The other day, while out walking with a friend, we took a detour on our way home and found ourselves in an old cemetery. It was, as she put it, the sort of place Tom Riddle might show up to challenge you to a wand duel. The ground, bulging with overgrown roots, was uneven and covered over with long blades of grass that soaked us to the ankles. Most of the engravings on the oldest headstones were illegible; the inscriptions had been gently buffed to smoothness by the passing of time. Speckled with lichen and pushed by either weather or slowly shifting soil, the stones leaned drunkenly at different angles.…

  • Communication,  so that happened

    Hello

    I carried a towering pile of items to the till and placed them on the belt. “Hi!” said the cashier. The friendly chirpiness in her voice was probably due to the fact that it was almost closing time, but that’s just a guess. I smiled and returned the greeting, and then focused all of my limited attention on placing the heavy items at the front of the pile so I could bag them the proper way. Little known fact, but that’s actually what adulting is all about; trying not to smoosh the brie beneath tins of tomatoes. True fact. The cashier made a comment about the weather, and my friend…

  • so that happened

    Questionable Decisions

    The delivery man called me a few minutes after ten o’clock. “I’m on my way to ye now!” He said, his voice bubbling with confidence. “How do I find ye?” I spun slowly on one foot, chewing my lip as I considered my geographical ignorance. “It’s just…. through the village?” I said, my voice lilting upward at the end because I sincerely hadn’t a clue. Frantically I attempted to chart the course in my mind, but it was just a hodgepodge of picture-book images in there; the post office, the church, the water pump. Was the church before or after the post office? Where was the water pump in relation…

  • personal,  so that happened,  Uncategorized

    2018

    We are now in 2018. Welcome everybody! Grab a glass of bubbly! I’m glad we both made it. It’s so good to see you again! I always start the new year with a niggling feeling like I just barely made it through a stargate and am now standing in a random field, swinging my arms, wondering what happens next. I swear I spend the first week of the year with a cloud above my head that says, ‘NOW WHAT?’ in bubble lettering. Even though the passing of a year is fairly arbitrary. Even though it makes no real difference. Even though it should just be a continuation of what came before,…