Tennis balls against a brick wall.Heavy rain against cold glass.Curling flame bullied by breeze. Impenetrably packaged scissors.The last pencil with a broken lead.Empty white page... Can't read; the words won't go in.Can't write; the words won't come out.
I bought a tower of yellow legal pads because movies... I could tell you I'm not an impressionable individual but it would be completely untrue. I see a brand represented by someone I respect, I browse their range; a relatable movie character spends time on an intriguing hobby, I give it a try; and I'm… Continue reading Yellow pages
Writing is so fucking hard. Like yoga or meditation, for me at least, it is one of those perplexing activities that is almost impossible to begin, but once you're in it, it feels the most natural and simple thing in the world. So what's stopping me? My trouble is that I always have a great… Continue reading I should be writing
One of the biggest losses for me on moving to senior school was World Book Day. Dressing up as your favourite character on a school day is a license to free your imagination and strip away your social inhibitions. Granted, as a pre-teen I had very few social inhibitions; I was a free-spirited tomboy who… Continue reading World Book Day
What if... What if I'd gone to a different school? What if I'd stood up to that drama teacher who didn't have time for my individuality? What if I had not done that embarrassing thing with that friend that time? What if I'd just put up with that terrible teacher or uninspiring syllabus? What if… Continue reading A touch of nostalgia
Wrote a long blog post; didn't like it. Here's the short version: I have called time on my PhD study to escape from the never-ending current of precarity and exploitation [which I was never subjected to but could see coming], finally falling into step with the most natural course my life could possible take: writing.… Continue reading Big change [the short version]
It actually felt like the first flush of summer for a perfect minute this morning. Dry-skinned and clammy-palmed from efficient all-night heating, I guiltily opened my window. Breezeless, the unseasonably mild air flooded over me. The countryside said “good morning” with lazily cooing pigeons and idly tittering blue tits, with the soft scent of lush… Continue reading A perfect minute.