Wednesday, 31 December 2014

Dear 2014...

There's been some huge triumphs this year; driving, turning 18, obtaining a tattoo, going it alone.

Then there's the smaller triumphs. Which, in actual fact, probably mean so much more to me than everything else combined.
Those small moments. Five minutes of laughing, two minutes of crying, a night of drinking and a morning of smoking. Those significant moments. Well, they've been grand.

It's the tiny things. Like waking up with a house full of friends, all carrying foggy heads. Stumbling outside - using energy from the previous night's beers and baguette - with coffee and toast. I'm sure we considered ourselves highly sophisticated and continental.

The truth is, none of the big triumphs mean half as much as those nights.

I remember every cheesy song, every out of tune power ballad, every hour spent driving through town, and every hour of sleep I lost.

We were silly with excitement. Everything felt new and fun. It was strange and so were we, but it wasn't threatening.

2014 has been home. We've had and felt it all.

It's that feeling you get when you try something for the first time, it's never quite what you expect but it evolves in to an adventure all the same.
There was no one in this adventure, bubble, sanctuary but us. Half-drunk with the prospect of things to come and completely engulfed in each other's love.

We started with a bang and we'll go out just the same. We're bright, and ready for a storm.

Saturday, 27 December 2014


Him to her,
her to him.

His paintings of her,
and her poems
about him.

A delicate
of soft
skin, ideas
and admiration.

to others
but exquisite
to only

Wednesday, 24 December 2014

A Poem For Today | 7

I am
a series of
small victories
and large defeats
and I am as
as any other
I have gotten
from there to

- Charles Bukowski

Sunday, 21 December 2014

This Week #15 | Accepting Change

This week made me realise something I hadn't really considered before.

We, as humans, seem to accept the strangest changes the easiest.

Think of all your baby teeth. Well those, they no longer belong to you.
They now belong to the elusive tooth fairy.
You so willingly allowed them to leap from your mouth to underneath your pillow.

No further explanation was needed for it to all make sense. You accepted it for what it was; becoming, growing.

The strangest of change that we all so wholeheartedly latched on to.

I need to remember this.
I need to remember this when the change I am faced with doesn't seem clear. When even simple day-to-day transforms prompt me to question the idea.

Why must the sun set?
It must set because it needs rest, just as I do.
It must set so the moon can glow, just as I shall.

The sun must set so the tooth fairy may begin her shift.

Friday, 19 December 2014

The Ocean Misses You

It's grand. Majestic, even.

And though the sea often conceals its great presence, it is every bit as important as the little things we worry about each day. 
It is still, but always present.

It keeps cleaning, rolling, maintaining itself, in the hope that one day, when you've put aside your many worries, you may stop by for a little visit.

The sea wishes for you to dip your feet in, curl sand under your toes.
And remember that the sea's presence is every ounce as grand and majestic as your own.

Monday, 15 December 2014

Festive Cheer and Festive Fear

Ten days before Christmas, eleven days before Boxing Day.
This is where I struggle with Christmas, this time of the year makes me uneasy. And that's not because I'm part Grinch, part Head Elf. 
I just get a little manic, in the best and worst way. 

Christmas songs get me dancing and full of the jazz notion and the prospect of eating honey-roasted parsnips fills me the nothing but excitement.

Then there's the not so good side of being manic towards Christmas. 
I feel everything. Every tiny speck of worry, stress, criticism. All absorbed at full speed - and full concentration - in to my system. It runs through my head, my veins, my bones. It makes me weak and vulnerable. 

The passing of the strongest woman I knew on Boxing Day just four years ago hits me. Every year. It hits me hard and fast. Strong and true.
Now I'm not shunning these feelings. They're real, and justified because they are mine and I still love her.

What a woman. So free in her wildness. So elegant and a total badass. The sweetest cherry and most sour lemon. She left a taste in your mind, one that only filled you with pure amazement and wonder.


It reminds me to stay mindful. To acknowledge that it's okay to go a little manic, just in moderation. To remember that she was a vibrant soul and I am too.  

Things aren't always swell, but there's always something to learn from the not so swell. 
It will get better. I can still eat my honey-roasted parsnips and I can still take a day to be still and remember.
There's no compulsory rule that says 'enjoy every minute of the Christmas period.' It's my time, to feel what I want, do what I want, enjoy what I want.

And the simple fact that I know this to be true means my Christmas will be loud and quiet, busy and calm and just right, in all the ways I see it to be.

Saturday, 13 December 2014

Today Is For:

Remembering that I have enough control, love and life to keep me going. Being mindful and breathing easy. 
And taking long walks, allowing the harsh wind to hit my face, feeling nothing but delight as I go.

Wednesday, 10 December 2014

Links Love #12

// Quotes on shit.

// Power up: 30 famous women on overcoming insecurities.

// A spot of lovely typography.

// An old garage in Amsterdam, converted into an apartment.

// Car goals, damn! See how much that beauty went for here.

// How photos were edited before Photoshop came around.

Saturday, 6 December 2014

A Poem For Today | 6

Be sure your pain is yours.
I have the tendency to adopt the hurt of others.
My heart tries to fix.
Sometimes it forgets to function for me.

- Donte Collins

Thursday, 4 December 2014

Remembering To Breathe

And I suppose that's where I struggle.

When I'm left alone. When there's less than 8 hours of sunlight a day. When I interact with one rude customer too many.

I kind of lose myself. Even if just for a split second. I forget what it's about, why I'm here and my position in the world. I lose a little bit of me.

With the darker months now in full swing it's getting a little trickier.

A lonesome few hours on a Monday can set me on a real downer, a slump, and only encourage my dreams of hibernation.
It's harder to sleep and it's even harder to get up. Motivating others and being optimistic feels like one of the heaviest weights to carry right now.

And I've written this. 
I've written this and forgotten to breathe.


Monday, 1 December 2014

Dear December...

Oh December, I hope the fact that I'm struggling to write to you isn't a sign of things to come. Please, be gracious.

Your neighbour, November, was a busy one. We shared few words and many long days. My hope is that you'll bring a little calm, and a little confidence.

You have 31 days before the changeover. You're top dog. Show January that you hold a strong reputation.

Bring cold winter sun and bright hazy mornings. Bring joy and excitement for the new year.

Bring it, December. 

Sunday, 30 November 2014

For You

To me, you are the person who is full of colour and love.
I can see it in the way you laugh, and the way you see life.

Lately, I think, that colour has faded, love has weakened a little.

But there are seasons in life, some not as colourful as others. This is important.
Please remember that Spring will be knocking at your door soon; the colour will brighten once more.

In the mean time, I have collected these words. And I offer them to you, with love, and faith that you will make it.

Friday, 28 November 2014

Links Love #11

// That time Barbie actively encouraged starvation dieting.

// A to X writing advice.

// Little victories.

// Backstage with Elvis.

// Every type of email students send to teachers.

// For sale: The Original Batmobile.

Tuesday, 25 November 2014

A Poem For Today | 5



It doesn’t have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patch

a few words together and don’t try
to make them elaborate, this isn’t
a contest but the doorway

into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.

- Mary Oliver

Sunday, 23 November 2014

This Week #14 | You'll Get There

Following on from Monday's post, I appear to have lost my balance. Suddenly and all at once.
It's taken nearly a week of really messed up sleep and endless work for me to realise things aren't quite right. I can't quite pinpoint what's triggered it - aside from the lack of sense in my brain - but I know I've lost that bubble in my spirit level. It's either fallen dramatically left, or dramatically right. Neither of which I particularly like the sound of.

This loss of balance has made me realise why I write. Why I tell stories. Why I jump at the chance to read my favourite part of Catcher in the Rye to a dear friend. Why my hands are always less jittery when I'm holding a pen or stabbing (more aggressively than needed) at the keys on my laptop.

It's my release. I'm filling the hole. We're all filling a hole. And it was a recent conversation with a close friend that reiterated this to me. Everyone fills their hole with something; running, smoking, drinking, shopping, working, taking hour long baths and eating sweetcorn from the tin. These tiny victories gives us a simple satisfaction that we lose when we forget that the opinions of others are just that, opinions.

So here it is, why I write.
I write to meditate and soothe. To cast wholesome feelings on to those who have lost their way a little. To romanticise about how I hope I am perceived. To share secrets I cannot utter aloud. To feel even the tiniest connection to the people I wish for. To be better, more creative and grounded. 
I write because sometimes all I have in me are the few words I scribble on paper. 
I write because when someone tells you you lack direction, you show them that you can conquer every direction you see.

Monday, 17 November 2014

Finding Balance

Writing from the window of a much loved coffee shop after an intense yoga class - that could really only be considered pilates - probably makes this all sound a little bit more dreamy. And I like that, it sits well with me.

My headspace feels good. Sane even. It's completely full and completely empty.
I woke up calm. Showered and brushed my teeth. Refused to wear a scrap of make up and adorned my best yoga clothes. My phone is switched off and I'm sneaking three raspberries in to my mouth at regular intervals. I've got everything I need.

Granted, there are a few things I desire; a plan, a little more money (simply for ease), summer to happen all over again. But what I have is enough. And that's what I'm trying to keep in my mind. I have what I need, I can walk, talk, swim, laugh, love and so far I've managed just over 18 years with all of those talents. 

So, it's enough right? Of course it is.

Thursday, 13 November 2014

To Consider:

"The worst thing in the world can happen, but the next day the sun will come up. And you will eat your toast. And drink your tea."

Sunday, 9 November 2014

Links Love #10

// Paris through Pentax.

// "I, the photographer, am nude, while the subject is not."

// Idioms from around the world.

// Cat's stunning photos from 'Paradise Lost'.

// Santa Maria della Pietà; a small oasis in Abruzzo.

// The UK's first cereal café!

Wednesday, 5 November 2014

A Poem For Today | 4


Last time we went swimming
the sea stood up and hugged you,
as though you were responsible
for keeping it blue.

Sunday, 2 November 2014

This Week #13 | Human After All

I guess you could say I've lost my head a few times this week. There's a sense that things are slipping and I'm holding on to the weakest cracks.

That's how I originally started this post. 

And then I remembered the amount of times things like:

"If you think bad, it will be bad."
"Get some sleep, stop worrying."
"I'm here because I want to be."

have been said to me this week. They mean as much as the person that said them. As much as they care for me and as much as I care for them.

Life will only be as bad as I think it to be. And from now on, it will be damn sweet.

Saturday, 1 November 2014

Dear November...

After the blaze of October, the trees - much like me - stand dormant, awaiting the shine of Spring.

It's hard to get around the wind, but it's coming. Thick and fast, ready for a battle. When love feels heavy you must remember that there will be brighter days, where the sun shines for more than two hours, when eating a tub of ice cream will make you comfortable, not cold. Those days are coming, soon. First, you must prepare with today, tomorrow and the days after that. These crisp November mornings will shape you, make you strong.

Surround us with things that comfort and sustain during the colder months.
November, I admire you. You have so suddenly sauntered up the drive and rang the doorbell. And you've left me no choice but to answer, wooly gloves in hand.

Wednesday, 29 October 2014

A Lover Lay In Her Bed

She thought about all the souls she had loved that day.

She dreamt of all the souls she would one day meet.

She shut her eyes.
And smiled to herself.

Sunday, 26 October 2014

Winter Is For...

Cold nights and crisps mornings. An extra pair of socks so your wellies fit just right. Apple crumble, blackberry crumble, every kind of crumble! Be sure to warm your custard first.

Foggy drives home at midnight, accompanied by two cigarettes and drivers who forget to switch their full beam off.

Winter is for hoping to see a blanket of untouched white on Christmas morning. The sweet smell of pine trees and roasted chestnuts. 

We'll witness those November days. The sun will shine bright and the wind will blow cold, where it's Spring in the sun and Winter in the shade.

Wednesday, 22 October 2014

A Poem For Today | 3

Great Things Have Happened

We were talking about the great things
that have happened in our lifetimes;
and I said, "Oh, I suppose the moon landing
was the greatest thing that has happened
in my time." But, of course, we were all lying.
The truth is the moon landing didn't mean
one-tenth as much to me as one night in 1963
when we lived in a three-room flat in what once had been
the mansion of some Victorian merchant prince
(our kitchen had been a clothes closet, I'm sure),
on a street where by now nobody lived
who could afford to live anywhere else.
That night, the three of us, Claudine, Johnnie and me,
woke up at half-past four in the morning
and ate cinnamon toast together.

"Is that all?" I hear somebody ask.

Oh, but we were silly with sleepiness
and, under our windows, the street-cleaners
were working their machines and conversing in Italian, and
everything was strange without being threatening,
even the tea-kettle whistled differently
than in the daytime: it was like the feeling
you get sometimes in a country you've never visited
before, when the bread doesn't taste quite the same,
the butter is a small adventure, and they put
paprika on the table instead of pepper,
except that there was nobody in this country
except the three of us, half-tipsy with the wonder
of being alive, and wholly enveloped in love.

- Alden Nowlan (1933-1983)

Sunday, 19 October 2014

This Week #12 | How Are You?

Overwhelmed. Overwhelmed that I am here. Writing, self meditating, filling a void that has only been creeping up on the thoughts I assumed were long gone. It’s the good kind of overwhelmed. Quietly overwhelmed. And this is okay. It’s not dramatic and it’s not quite heart wrenching. I can still breathe.

I’m overwhelmed that the people around me are inexplicably tolerant and loving of my flaws and needs, though different to their's they remain justified - simply because I feel them.

And when your dearest friend sits across from you in a small coffee shop and tells you how envious she is of the life you lead, driving, photographing views she only sees from her window, believe her. She’s exploring too, seeing different things and learning. And she is happy. And she lives surrounded by light and love, and she knows it. Yet part of her still longs for what you have, she still believes it to be tangible.
There is a lesson in this. Be open to it.

Perhaps everything that has just happened is an invitation to a new adventure. 
All adventure requires is curiosity. And curiosity, I have in abundance. 

Thursday, 16 October 2014

Links Love #9

// Adventures require curiosity

// All this grey, rainy weather has put me in the mood for a holiday - this is the dream!

// 10 foreign words we need in English!

// "I'm a grown woman, I can do whatever I want."

// Stunning photos of Iceland by Finn Beales.

Monday, 13 October 2014

One Thursday Night In May

Enough light shone through the cracks in the blinds to cast a soft light on your spine. It was gentle and ready, driving me crazy as it danced on your skin.
I mean it’s not as if you weren’t glowing already.
You have this permanent glow about you. And I’m envious, because it’s so effortless.
Up and out. Left and right. Every direction going, you’ve got it.
A glow that would make even the most fearful child fall in love with sleeping against light.

What a wonderful way to burn.

Sunday, 5 October 2014

This Week #11 | Seeking The Positive

It's Sunday. And I'm still here. Beat and a little bruised, but nonetheless I am here.

Long drives with blissful, high views kept me sane and grounded. The kind of seats that give you nosebleeds. I was wrapped in a duvet of thick sky and icy wind, with nothing but my camera to capture it all. 

Sometimes I think of how I’ll describe these moments in my life, when I am fortunate enough to look back.
"It was beautiful."
"You'd have loved it."
"Oh I wish I could have stayed a little longer."
"I was happy in that moment because you were too."

I suppose what gets me most is falling exhausted in to bed dreaming dreams not so different to the days I'm living. 
That has to be a life well-spent, doesn't it?

Wednesday, 1 October 2014

Dear October...

You have a warm feel about you. Summer's said its final goodbyes and the orange glow that lit the sky for so long now litters the ground.

I've missed you, October. The way you allow the darkness to fall a little earlier in the evening. How you grant me the much missed permission to wrap up in big jumpers. How the fog that graces most mornings is nothing but tranquil and the little bit of haze I need to feel grounded.

Change is coming. Change is always coming. I want change. In fact, the more I want it, the more elusive it becomes. We'll synchronise in the right places and battle in the wrong, but it'll work it. And the process, though occasionally brutal, is mostly thrilling.

Three months until the year is up. Three months to kick ass. Three months to go out in a blaze.

October, make 'em dance.

Monday, 29 September 2014

A Letter To An Old Perfectionist

Forgive yourself for the times you stumbled upstairs without a "Goodnight" to your parents. Forgive yourself for the days you thought coffee was the only food group you needed. Forgive yourself for sticking around people that didn't make you feel important. Forgive yourself for letting another influence the thoughts you worked so hard to conquer. Forgive yourself for leaving early to just be alone. 
Forgive yourself for shunning your mind when it sang only sweet words of your body. And to hell with what others think. Forgive yourself for saying your hips were nothing but 'gross'. One day they will anchor shopping, laundry, heavy burdens and a few sneaky treats. Forgive yourself for the nights you couldn't sleep and thought of only the negative. Positivity arrived eventually and those nights hold no grudges. Forgive yourself for feeling angry, fear was big and biting. It's done, let go. 

Celebrate that your story is full to the brim with major departures and even bigger arrivals. This is your life now, don't forget to laugh. Stand up straight, you have all the armour you could ever need. See with wide eyes and believe with an open mind.

Sunday, 28 September 2014

Links Love #8

// "Just three little letters, a word that is really nothing special..."

// Who wouldn't want a popcorn covered car?!

// Another beautiful post from Alix.

// Why it's impossible to make plans anymore.

// Perspective.

// If tomorrow starts without me.

Wednesday, 24 September 2014

A Poem For Today | 2


She had been in my mind that day,
Friendly, open
We knew
How things were
And how she had perceived them
In the past
It seemed so clear
And so complete.
Not until after the telephone call
Did it seem
So terribly complete.

Sunday, 21 September 2014

This Week #10 | Planning Epiphanies

I'm going to cheat a little for this post and that's mostly because it's been a storm recently, the kind of the storm that shakes you up, leaves you feeling a little defeated and then washes an abundance of goodness over you.

Just over a week in and adulthood is treating me pretty well - I have few complaints. If it's taught me anything so far it's this:

  • I am beyond blessed
  • Photos are important
  • Some people will always be bitter
  • Friends that you can consider family are well worth keeping
  • A lot of people know me better than I thought
  • Worrying is a time waster
  • Wine is lethal but croissants are comforting

This year has been stellar and there's still a few months to go. Big things are coming up soon. I've got money to save, plans to make, photos to take, songs to dance to and people to love. No amount of worrying, winter demons or negativity will stand in the way. It's time now and I'm going to triumph.

Friday, 19 September 2014

Eighteen and Bloody Marvelous

I feel infinite. Now, I can't yet tell if that's due to the amount of wine my chums and I indulged in last week or if it's because I'm now eighteen and feeling a little freer.

Either way, it feels fantastic.

Tuesday, 16 September 2014

What Do You Wish Was Taught At School?

The emotions I saw on A-level Results Day sparked some ideas. Some weren't bothered by the outcome of a years work, some were happy, some felt hard done by. All of which are understandable. Sometimes exam results have a tendency to remind us that even if we work our asses off, in terms of letters on a piece of paper at the end of Summer, it won't always be what you expect.

So it got me thinking, what if schools taught some stuff I actually really want to know, not just how to break down formulae and find 'x'.

In an ideal world, these are the four subjects that would have got me that little bit further:

1. Money

What credit cards are available, mortgages, renting, the difference between a savings and current account, what happens when you're overdrawn, what tax you have to pay and why. Ok, it sounds pretty dull but let's be honest, I'm damn scared about all this stuff and I haven't got a clue where to start. If someone had given me the heads up when I was still at school, and told me the best ways to save and earn, I would have paid attention.

2. Social Skills

I don't just mean with peers and those in the workplace here. Worldwide travel is now more accessible than ever and it's common to see those on their gap year jetting of to Asia or inter-railing around Europe. Learning how to greet someone, their traditions and customs would surely only help generations connect with a wider audience and become more aware.

3. House and Home

Before anyone gets on their high horse, I'm not talking about women having a meal ready for the working man when he walks through the door. This more along the lines of practical jobs; things like bleeding a radiator, changing a lightbulb without electrocuting yourself across the room, gas and water maintenance... you know, those skills you aren't born with.

4. Politics

I've just hit the age that allows me to vote, this is pretty terrifying and that's mostly because I have no idea how the system works. The country would benefit a whole lot if students were taught about voting, political parties/policies and elections. More people would feel able to vote with confidence and it would hopefully diminish the amount of people living in a country they don't understand.


Friday, 12 September 2014

You Have Time

If you listen to one thing, absorb and admire one thing today, let it be that you have time. More time than you think. 

You can stay for that second round of drinks. Walk home at half the pace you would normally, the bricks and dinner will still be there when you arrive. Take that extra ten minutes of sleep, you need it. Leave for work a little later than planned, the fresh pastries and juice will be worth it. 
You have time to ring your parents a few time a week - at least. You have time get sick and take the week off, you’re human. Go on holiday, don’t rush the bright days and blissful nights.
Take your lunch outside, there’s time to indulge. Spend that extra half an hour at the park with the kids, ‘catch up TV’ is a thing now.

Keep performing little miracles, you’re changing something big, even if you can't see it yet. You can be kind, humble, patient.

Know that the world doesn’t move as quickly as you do.

Monday, 8 September 2014

Links Love #7

// "I could leave my house without makeup, but here's why I don't."

// Chris Wall from Soft Bullets for Burberry Acoustic - breathtaking.

// 20 questions to ask - or be ready to answer!

// "It was all great, until I saw this message..."

// The Price of Success: "We hate the 1% and we want to be the 1% in equal measures."

// Loving: this, this, this and this.

Wednesday, 3 September 2014

Free Indeed

It's only now, a few days before everyone heads back to school for a new year, that I'm realising the summer months of this year have been so many things. A bubble, an escape, free, home, enlightening and I suppose most of all, the best damn hazy days and alive nights I've ever had the pleasure of absorbing.

Selfish me is screaming: "I don't want this to end! Let's do more. Let's drive until 3am. Let's do all that important stuff on six hours less sleep than we really need. Stay. We can keep this enormous bubble of happy and irresponsible for a while yet. I'm not done."
Alas, selfish me can't win this one. They have to go back to school, study for exams, find jobs, get in to good universities; I think I'm just protective of what has been, we've found something mutual and don't want to give it up, it's instinct I guess.

We're not ready. That's the truest bit. We're dreading change. We're mixed up. Alone and together. Breathing fine and gasping for air simultaneously. But mostly, well mostly, we're fearless. And that's why we'll get through this year in style, ready to do it all again when the clocks go forward.

Monday, 1 September 2014

Dear September...

The hazy summer days are done now, that's something I can't quite grasp. They somehow managed to blur in to one and I lost all sense of time and responsibility.

September, you've certainly come around a lot sooner than I expected. I thought I'd feel apprehensive because eighteen sounds like an age where you should be free and have it completely figured out at the same time. And I don't really think I'm any of those things, which is just fine.
Instead, I feel appreciative. For the little things. I'm happy to be here. To experience Autumn and colder sunshine. To be able to welcome the morning breezes that will softly dance around me. Many aren't so lucky. So here's to the smaller chunks of happiness. To being here. Being mindful. Appreciating every second.

Here we go, September, let's make eighteen the best yet.

Saturday, 30 August 2014

A Poem For Today | 1


Obviously it's winter. You're in a duffel coat,
which hides your shape. I'm lighting your fag.
There's something touching about the way we stand,
our young bodies, you leaning toward me.
We're outside the Angel Café. I'm turned away
from the camera, a back, a raised arm, a hand
holding a lit match: but you can't tell it's me.

Someone says, black and white, you can't beat it.
Look at those paving stones. You can almost feel
that dusk. It's superb. Look at that lettering. I loiter
near 'Angel Lane Couple', hoping to be recognised.
But they're more interested in the dusk. The figures
make it, someone says. And I suppose we did.

Thursday, 28 August 2014

Links Love #6

// "You hit like a girl."

// I've been lusting after these cool things for a good few months now.

// If you read this post, you'll know my clichéd writer's love for gin, and this video got me excited!

// Leaving London and what it feels like.

// Pizza in the wild!

// This post made me want to fill my house with cacti.

Tuesday, 26 August 2014

Train Shorts 1 | Unexpected Friends

There was something comforting about seeing a six year old portray no fear or prejudice towards the heavily tattooed man that sat less than a metre away from her. She didn’t flinch once. Not even when he ordered a beer, I suppose she’d missed the two already empty cans wedged between his feet.

It took a good half an hour for the girl’s ease with the new character to be adopted by her Mother - who was sat opposite, an eye on each trouble maker. She did eventually find a comfortable spot, slid down her reserved seat a little and even engrossed herself in a book, although I can’t be sure if that was to hide the disgrace she felt as her angelic child began to learn the not so angelic rules of poker.

Sunday, 24 August 2014

Taxi, Please

It’s when the one person you wanted to call doesn’t pick up. You’re greeted with “Leave a message,” Instead of the familiar, “Hey, what’s up?”

To hear love at the other end. That was all you wanted. A punch of encouragement. A gentle reminder that none of it really matters and you can breathe easy again.

But you didn’t get that. You got a long beep and monotone voice. You got a punch in the gut when you’re already hurting. It does matter and you can’t breathe easy.

Now you scroll through your contacts with a shaky right hand, knowing you don’t have anyone else. No back up or second in command. The burnt out cigarette in your left sparks a fire that makes you realise the taxi driver will be your only friend tonight.

This Week #9 | The Wales Edition

By now, my hair mostly consists of the sea and (far too much) dry shampoo. I say that likes it's a bad thing but secretly I'd love to be able to rock a head of dreadlocks. If the unwashed delight that is my hair didn't make this week sound enticing enough I somehow managed to make a six hour journey to Wales turn into 12. Holy moly, me and trains (and now my bank account too) are not the best of friends right now.

The state of my hair and a certain mode of transport became more than bearable when the charming views that graced my eye line were out in abundance this week. I don't think I've been more stuck for decent words to use, there's little that can describe what I saw.

If there's one thing that makes me feel calmer, purer and more whole than anything else it's sea air. It's healing and beautiful and full of all the good stuff you could ever need. The sea has a tendency to fill me with longing, though for what I can't be sure. It wraps me up in a whirlwind of encouragement and new life. Life feels a little easier by the sea.

A week surrounded by the most healing kind of people, food, air, laughter, music has given my soul a whole heap of rest-bite. It tops anything I could have wished for and is only reconfirming that I'm nowhere near ready for this summer to end. I'd do it all again in a flash. With the same people, the same stupid (but bearable) jokes, except, maybe a shorter train ride!

This week's teaching: "Travel teaches toleration."

Monday, 18 August 2014


I wasn’t lying that time
I said I had a headache,
an appointment,
no petrol.

I wanted to see you
and yours.
Talk about how ‘grand’
school was going.
Listen to you idolise
your kids, yourself,
the dog.

So desperately did I
want to do you lots
of favours,
destroy your worries and
fix the fence.

I did want to
see you!
But I had
a headache, 
an appointment,
no petrol.

Saturday, 16 August 2014

For The Women Of My Life

To all the women that I have met, talked to, laughed with, walked past, hugged, eaten with, lived with, loved, waved to... Every single one.

// Change your sheets often, you'll sleep better.
// You will be young. You will be old. Be you, now.
// Drink water, often.
// School is not the only learning space.
// What would your Mother say if she could see you right this second?
// I appreciate you.
// I am proud of you.
// Go with it. One day, this will be a great story.
// Don't be afraid to feel every emotion. You are human.
// Learn to listen.
// There's a kind of love that will do little but entirely destroy your ego.
// Don't spend too many nights in Low Self Esteem City.
// Each season comes once a year.
// Your body will change, but it's only trying to keep you alive.
// One day when you'll find a way to wrap love around yourself, instead of being buried in it.
// We all need a little help sometimes.
// Ignite fires in the lives of people you love.
// Forget what you see in magazines & on the internet. You are one hell of a woman.