Category : Uncategorized

What is the point of this ?

6.35 am Wiping the sleep from my eyes, the crackle of the gas fire, 30 minutes set on the oven buzzer, sip of tea with soya. Eyes still adjusting to the glow of the light form the computer, I avert my eyes and look at the keyboard and fingers tapping letters making words. Train rumbles

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Is it night, or is it day ?

5.45 am-6.30am Is it night, or is it day ? It is dark. There is some traffic on the road. I awoke cuddling Naoise in the attic, I still have my cotton tights on from the night before. Probably not a good idea to wear tights ion bed but I am warm and cosy. I

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Disorientation

7pm this evening I am disorientated.Didn’t write this at the usual time. Now piecing together some notes and some images that don’t quite make sense, time frame blurred. Head blurred. 9am this morning Not at home, I can hear a mobile phone alarm, now switched off. A white rabbit. A cockerel crowing. Wet, damp, grey

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The last day of 2014

Awoke at 6.30, cannot rest or fall back to sleep. Covered up Naoise with the second duvet that had fallen onto the ground, its cold. Crept downstairs to be greeted by piles of dirty dishes, mugs, wine glasses and kitchen carnage from yesterdays dinner. I stack and clear the table, I cannot write in a

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Earth stood cold as iron

Trees are up rooted and planted upside down. Head fuzzy too much red wine with cauliflower cheese. Candles to the left of me, tea with soya milk to the right. Sound of a dog barking. The gas fire humming, clicking, clacking, whooshing. Sat in my sheep onesey a present from my parents last Christmas. The

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Tell me why I don’t like Monday’s

I felt overstuffed and dull and disappointed, the way I always do the day after Christmas, as if whatever it was the pine boughs and the candles and the silver and gilt-ribboned presents and the birch-log fires and the Christmas turkey and the carols at the piano promised never came to pass. ― Sylvia Plath, The

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The snow scream

Half an hour set on the oven timer. Why half an hour ? Just because its about long enough to construct something of any sense. The gas fire on pumping out its whoooos and its cracks and fuzzes, taking the edge off the cold in the stone flagged front room. A tin of deicer, dinner

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No back to black on a white christmas

My neighbour just shimmied past my front room window returning from her nightshift at the care home. She wants to retire but instead she has to work a few more years to get her pension. She is tired and has certainly done her service to the community. I admire her. In-between caring for other people’s

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The jungle in my front room

Yoda and me are up and enjoying the peace of a candle lit boxing day morning. Fire on grey wet damp foggy outside. The force was with me. First Christmas with my folks as an adult with children. A walk up the hill and my mum didn’t stumble, fall or trip in the mud, the

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The magical disappearing golden sequin

I am tired. I am tired. I collected Naoise after school and his teacher told me that he may have put a small golden sequin into his right ear. The incident seems to be true Naoise is looking a little pale and is gesticulating at me towards his ear. First investigations begin at the local

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