Wednesday, 30 March 2016
Time after time
Tuesday, 29 March 2016
Cawfee cups and dreaming
Monday, 28 March 2016
Baggage is never want you think it is
For the longest time I've given objects a soul. When I was little, it is was my teddy bear. And as I got older, a handbag or two. To cry into, to hug when I'm cold, to use as a pillow on long journeys.
And now I'm talking to my travel bag. It's shaking, some might say from the motion of the train. Me, I'm thinking it knows it has a bottle of perfume in it, has fallen over twice (so clearly isn't feeling well today) and is concerned if it falls over again with its over stuffed innards, it's all going to smash and smoosh inside. I whisper to it to be strong, I've cajoled it from Liverpool and we're on the last leg. It won't be long until we can both rest. We've done some journeys over the years, it's carried my clothes, my secrets, my passport, my dreams.
Sent from my iPhone
I wrote a poem
Saturday, 26 March 2016
My step Part II
Two moon junction
Travel sick
There we go, I forgot what this felt like. See I don't do holidays - not really. I've done a few but it's not really what I do...
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I have the festival blues. Or maybe it's not so much the festival blues as opposed to the 'outside' blues. The joy of camping ma...
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When I was a little girl, over the Christmas holidays, I used to spend one week with my Granny and then one week with my nana and papa. My p...
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Oh hello, it's me again. I used to love this page, blogging away all my words. But life goes on and we never make the time for the thing...