It would be so easy to write a lovely post about the community of the Silent Book Club in Stourbridge, but I’ll start with… What is a Silent Book Club? Ok, it’s a place where a group of people meet in person every few weeks, socialise, and then sit silently (nearly) and read whatever book
Silent Book Club Stourbridge Read More »
I remember, sometime in the past, that taste in my mouth of my lover’s flesh
That moment you wake and find you’re not alone and smile
That hand, that caress when it’s still dark and quiet
Tracing the line of someone’s back in the low light
Kissing a neck in the middle of the night
There are things in this blog that my daughters don’t need to read. However, I feel I need to thank them and the wisdom they shared while finding themselves in the world. Because of them, I have found new ways to look at myself and everything. I hope they have found at least some of
Sexuality, ED and healing Read More »
This was a short story written for the Stourbridge Writers Group. Theme: Autumn Colours and Aliens (either or both) “The transformation England goes through as it moves from its warmest period, Summer, to its coldest period, called Winter, is iconic.” The tour guide had lost count of the times they had said this, but it
Note: Writing this blog or reverse diary makes me realise I’ve never reflected much on what I’ve lived through and usually only through storytelling to others. I’m not writing it in any order, one memory triggers another, but I will share I am crying right now, as I write this bit, and I have no
1976 – The Social worker, the Consultant and the Brain Tumour Read More »
I wrote this for a PASTA night in Wolverhampton. PASTA is a free monthly event organised by Poets, Prattlers and Pandemonialistsis, it’s an; Open mic night with a difference. Each month we meet at the Arena Theatre and ask people to perform a piece they’ve written on a theme which was chosen at the previous
It’s not about the sunshine Read More »
Being alone is not the worst. Though loneliness can leave you hurting, wanting, hunting for that moment, which used to be filled, and warm and safe. Missing someone you took for granted, like that herb garden you lovingly planted, only to find by winter it was gone, another thing you had forgotten to maintain. I’ve
New friends are hardNew friends are unfamiliarAnd they bring magic, laughter and life into my heart I overthink so muchI overstep and risk a lossAnd they see past my cluelessness and see I care We bow and bendWe find our way and hugAnd sometimes we smile and laugh and cry and sob I misunderstandI spill
My heart has learned to beat again, so long it sat in a spare room with little joy, with bacon fat and lard filling the spaces where love, hope and care should be. I’d stopped believing I was worthy of friends, of unrequested hugs and smiles, and thought I should just continue till it’s time
As I write this disclaimer, I wonder if I’ll ever click publish on this very personal article, one of the hardest I’ve written. It was the beginning of self-loathing, ultimately leading to isolation, esteem issues and depression later in life. The details I’ll be going into below are personal and sometimes graphic. Those who know
1977 – Circumcision and Trauma Read More »