Looking back to move forwards

I need to practice sharing my creative ideas in a way that makes it easy for others to understand, not just end products but the processes that lead me there. I tend to shy away from this, assuming that if people were really bothered to know then they would just ask, but unfortunately to be… Continue reading Looking back to move forwards

Diving for sweets

Searching my laptop for files to delete I came across this home movie from #4’s birthday, dated 2008. Here’s one little glimpse of him as birthday boy on the day he became a teenager. He turns 21 in less than a month and is “not bothered” about celebrating. I’d like to celebrate him and his… Continue reading Diving for sweets

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Categorised as memory

scenting something

Yesterday a facebook friend was researching for some writing and asked us to share our three favourite smells and why they were our favourite smells. After some initial head-scratching I came up with more than three. I never know when to stop. So, in order of my remembering here they are: Fresh cut rhubarb –… Continue reading scenting something

The little things

Did I forget to post this? I wrote it as last year ended and I thought of the time I had been privileged to spend New Year’s Eve in your company, in a room full of people and laughter and music and hospitality. So I had written this and it may be somewhere on here,… Continue reading The little things

Red Flyer

A few decades ago, as a very young and single mother, I would occasionally¬† have panics about how to keep my three young children safe in an emergency; who I would carry, what I would carry. That was even before I read Yael Dayan’s Death Had Two Sons or watched Sophie’s Choice¬† It took me… Continue reading Red Flyer

This is the doll

that my father bought me when I was very small. He was a teacher accompanying Surrey schoolchildren on a cruise around the mediterranean and visited “the Holy Land”. He made the trip twice, each time he bought me a doll – this one is from the first trip. He also brought back an Ali Baba… Continue reading This is the doll