CHRONIC FATIGUE SYNDROME, community, Music, Poetry, poetry, radio, spoken word

Radio, Radio…

wonderland-1This week this is on my mind. Attended a little course in the wilds of Devon and hope to follow this up too. Met up to discuss launching a community radio station so will tag this in the hope I can get some advice from some nice word pressers! Handed in a big MA module so fingers crossed x And helping to launch INK 2015 as Poetry Editor and we are now going to print on that. Got an amazing track working on  at moment ‘Wonderland’, Looking good. So, yes last few days flare up of my M.E totally wiped but feeling perkier today. Which is needed it’s the school holidays…gulp. Lots planned including London.

I really must slow down… yes when I am on the train to Cornwall later… Have a lovely Easter everyone and lets hope for warmer days.


Writing is hard, life is harder…

It has only been the last 2 years that I have been really working at my writing. I have always had an affinity for it but it was always put on the back burner because guess what? I had to actually earn a living so that meant no spare time at all,  any extra time was spent seeing friends and family which are important and oh yeah ping ponging between a bad boyfriend and freedom and traveling. Any down time was seized by years of ME. The chronic fatigue would frequently hit me and lay me down.

Traveling to temperate climates always gave me a respite and I spent a year in Corsica and Australia during my ‘Wilderness Years’. By then, I had learnt to cope a bit better, by pacing myself. Frustration isn’t a strong enough word when you are plagued with this illness. So, I would frequently overdo it and that led to depression. 10 years on, I cope well. I am in a different place. I am settled which has grounded me enough to deal with all the loss and illness I have been knee deep in; firstly myself with an ear tumour leading to surgery and hearing loss, then my younger sister with thyroid cancer, then death of my father- in- law and my mother- in- law’s emotional fall out, then my mum with breast cancer, then my dad passed away with a brain tumour, that was the worst.  I have written the following continous prose in light of this and my state of mind as when you are told something like the above , what you lose first is your sense of control and utter hopelessness,redgate photos 006 this then clears as you adjust and adapt to life changing events. I tend to go into my garden and cut things down –

A Good Year for the Roses

When I find out that someone I know has been told they have cancer or died from cancer my first reaction is to go outside in the air and cut things down one time it was a hedge a common one such as you would find in any common garden the type that is used to separate neighbours from neighbours God forbid we would actually want to talk to our neighbours when they told me my sister had it that was the common hedge the other time it was a Buddleia commonly known as the butterfly bush when my Mother had it that bush was dying a bit anyway so it was not much use we had the visiting common butterflies they say they are in decline but in my common little garden we have quite a few and they do love that bush when my Father had it that was bad so I got my shears the rusty ones but I put WD40 on them that helped and they squeaked back into life and I hacked down the roses I thought they were dead however the following year they grew even more and I said to people it was a good year for the roses and all I could think of was that I hacked them down and they must have liked that when I found out I had a tumour but it was destructive but benign I went and got the strimmer and tidied up edges of things in my common little garden and put new fish in my tiny deep pond I had lost two before Rapunzel and Jam as the pond filled quickly with green algae that summer when it got really hot one day those two even survived their first mates Pascal and Jelly funny that the new fish are called Jerry and Dave I don’t know why I have never even met either of these people with those names when you know someone that is going through losing someone to cancer you know and when they die you can go and hack things down.
Today it was the large conifer and the ivy that was attached to it.

I pulled it all off.

Miranda July: The First Bad Man

I am inspired


My first encounter with Miranda July’s fiction was in the Zadie Smith-edited anthology The Book of Other People, where her story ‘Roy Spivey’ was one of the best on offer. Then I read her collection No-one Belongs Here More Than You, which impressed me with its ability to turn between funny and sad on a sixpence. Now we have July’s debut novel, which turns out to be more multifaceted still, and already seems as likely to be one of my favourite books of the year as Dept. of Speculation did last year, or May We Be Forgiven a couple of years earlier.

Miranda July: The First Bad Man

The First Bad Man comes plainly packaged: black and white, block text only, no illustration, and no blurb. There are some quotes of praise which touch on the content, and my hardback came with a yellow belly band adding praise from A.M. Homes. It seems to…

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amwriitng, arts, Death, dreams, fiction, Observations, Photography, Poetry, scary, twilight zone, Writing

Past a Spooking Hour


    There is a place where a converged spot of nothingness gravitates and gyrates like a bee. It is confined to it’s place of death. It cannot move on, or rest. Day and night, every witching hour. Ignorance walks through it and each time that happens it vibrates, a little and it’s dedicated spot waivers. On a Sunday this can happen 100 times or at Christmas a 1000 times.  This soul is not fickle or flirt with it’s death. It makes a resolute stand within it’s own eternity.