GOING THE DISTANCE

Starters orders. There’s a very funny picture that my Dad took of me crossing the finish line at River School sports day, circa 1981. It was when I still had a long way to go before growing into my adult teeth and gangly limbs. The overall image is reminiscent of an over-excited giraffe fleeing a...

LEAVING HOME

It was a sunny June day in 1990 when the silver Audi 100 (VYR 21S, the number plate still etched on my memory) pulled up next to the bus station on Pencester Road. The three of us got out, but a few lingering moments later, just two of us got back in.  That was the first time...

THE LAST STRAW

It has been a long 10 weeks. I have grown weary of the endless skirting round hole-diggers, plasterers, plumbers, electricians, a team of heating engineers and a kitchen fitter. Last week the cast also included four high- viz hooligan window-fitters and roofers. Twirling in an endless polka through stepladders, like a deranged folk dancer, I...

NOTHING GLORIOUS ABOUT IT

When the relief of having survived another Christmas and the buzz of a Happy New Year subsides, we in the northern wilderness are still faced with at least four more months of unrelenting Yorkshire winter before it feels like time to haul the vacuum-packed storage bags of shorts and gauzy shirts out from under the beds. And even then, it’s just to...

DON’T WORRY MUMMY

It had been over an hour since I’d seen another living soul besides the deck-hands on the approaching P&Os, skylarks, Exmoor ponies, and the dashing pilot of a low flying spitfire, but suddenly there was a stranger close by, walking menacingly towards me. I glanced down, planning my first move: If necessary, I’d attempt a swift...

For The Tree People

Breathing heavily now, and struggling to keep from toppling over, I am forced to turn my face bitterly into the foliage, the spiny branches whipping to and fro with the laboured motion. Skin stings and prickles with the spite of a million tiny needles. It’s nearly done, I pray for it to end...But the ordeal...

Fakery

I’ve long been fascinated by the sneaky way women (and sometimes men), use secret weapons in the endless pursuit of appearing to be younger, slimmer or sexier. I’m not talking about the 1950’s practice of setting an alarm clock to allow for a quick slick of makeup and hasty removal of curlers before one’s husband...

A VERY PRIVATE AFFAIR

Disclaimer: This is not my usual brand of goofy blog. I wrote it a while ago, but what stopped me publishing it was the sheer futility of my lone voice in attempting to effect change within an old established organisation. Since then, however, I have been encouraged by good friends to share it. Following an...

Sunday Girl.

The first thing my eyes focused on each morning upon waking, was the exquisite face of a woman pierced through with five evenly spaced steel skewers. She gazed down upon me from the ceiling above my bed, and informed me on the ways of being kick-ass, sexy, and creative. I was only ten and my...

Mad About Marseille

Arriving at a deserted Gare Saint Charles, late in the day after a transit of nearly 14 hours, sense of humour was at an all time shortage and the clammy Marseille dusk greeted us off the TGV like a searching pair of blackamoor hands. Weary travellers from the cold north, we boarded a cab and...