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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Since the stroke (4 years this month) my mom has struggled with getting her mouth to say what her brain means. She knows what she wants to s...
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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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There's so much I want to write, so much in my heart that I want to say. But the words won't come. They are stuck. I know I'm n...