Category: Reflective

Reflective.  During periods of nostalgia.

HAPPY NEW YEAR! Things can only get better in 2021!

Around 6.p.m. I kicked off my jog pants, showered, washed my hair and dolled myself up.  Then, proudly wearing an outfit I had been given for Christmas, I took a stroll along the landing from the bedroom, looking longingly at the photos and prints, framed and hanging on the walls.  The hibiscus.  A watercolour from Barbados, prints from St. Lucia and a  photo of us all embossed on to canvas splashing around in the sea in The Maldives.  Treasured memories.

DARE TO DREAM – LIFE BEYOND COVID-19

I dare to dream about spending time with the people I care about, without being 2 meters apart.

I dare to dream about going out for a meal, or to the theatre – how I’ve missed the smell of the greasepaint – and listening to Little Black Dress cook up a storm in the Blue Note Bar with other live music lovers.

I dare to dream about a change of scene – I used to write poetry, just as well I gave it up.

I dare to dream about soaking up the sunshine somewhere with the gentle lapping of the sea in my ears, free to inhale the exhilarating, briny COVID-19-free air.  Joy.

LAZY READER SYNDROME – My Blind Spot

It does bother me that I spend everyday writing, but never allow myself time to sit and read a book these days.  But, I have decided to stop beating myself up about it because I do read.  I read a lot, but not always in the good old-fashioned way.

These days, thanks to the Internet, it is so easy to tap into a plethora of resources for literature, art and just about everything else… 24/7.  So I quench my constant thirst for knowledge browsing the Net.

LIGHTHEARTED HUMOUR FOR BABY BOOMERS

A chick, in my book, is a baby chicken covered in downy, yellow feathers up until the age of  6-weeks.   I’ve always bristled when the term is applied to young women, and I have always subconsciously disassociated myself from Chick lit, believing the genre to be driven by scantily clad, sex-driven female main characters.  I couldn’t have been more wrong and, although I’m not a fan of categories, it’s time to reassess the genre I think I’ve been writing in.

AFTER THE BIDEN/HARRIS VICTORY IT’S TIME TO UNITE

I have never been so emotionally involved in an American Presidential Election in my life but, since last Tuesday, I have been glued, as America’s future teetered on a knife-edge, and I’m not even American.  

Thousands of miles away from America, the land of the free, we heard the news we were hoping for.  We cried, imbibed and danced to Kool & The Gang’s Celebration on our patio in the middle of our night waving sparklers in the air.  The feeling of joy, as well as relief for a bunch of Brits thousands of miles away, was very real.

Rejection is Inevitable but it’s only a Stumbling Block in the Road

You’ll have written the synopsis, well, you have written hundreds of different versions of the damn thing which you don’t think does your story justice, but you pick what you think is the best one and send it off with your query letter and wait.

This is the point where you need to start managing your expectations. My carefully chosen mantra is rejection is not the end, although it might feel like it, it’s just a step on the path.

PLEASE DON’T DRINK THE BLEACH

As the world prepares themselves to face another major battle against the invisible killer, COVID-19, we all anxiously await the results of today’s US election, while willing Biden to cross the line with a clear majority.

If he doesn’t, another Trump administration would be disastrous. More disruptive to U.S. foreign policy and world affairs than during the past four years. Think on. Think BBC TV’s Years and Years – a ghastly cliche in so many senses of the words.

Life Writing. It’s Not All About Me!

The thought of writing a memoir had never crossed my mind. I’ve listened intently as members of my writers’ group read from their life writings.  One member decided to defy convention and sail around the world with her children.  Another lived in India for years to learn the practice of Ayurveda, a form of traditional Indian medicine. Both amazing life experiences. But, consciously thinking about writing about my life experiences might not have occurred to me but, the fact was, I’d been doing it for years.

The Ark in My Heart

I first became aware of Gerald Durrell when someone gave me a copy of one of his books. After reading that book, My Family and Other Animals, I learned that Gerald Durrell had started a ‘zoo’ in Jersey, Channel Islands. As I would find out later, through my own first-hand experience, it was – and still is –  so much more than a ‘zoo’.

Roots

I was born at my parent’s home in Fulwith Mill Lane, Harrogate.  A stone’s throw away from the viaduct on the south side of town.  I remember little about the house, as my parents decided to uproot my tender sapling self, aged three and replant me down south.  

Despite my roots being pulled out from underneath me at such an early age, the draw of the place of my birth remains strong. It will forever be etched upon my heart.

Life After Lockdown: Need for Change

The human race has come a long way in the last 200,000 years. We have the innate ability to adapt to change, and now we are currently facing the most significant changes we will ever have to make. Climate change, overpopulation, pollution, and on top these three serious contenders, COVID-19 is raining down on us all.  

With the help of the global scientific community, we will survive this cataclysmic period in our history but, then what?

Back to the Drawing Board

When you fall off a bicycle or a horse, you get straight back on again, and writing is like that. There will always be knockbacks, but you can’t let them get to you.  There will always be negatives, but they are just the potholes on the road to achieving your goals.

Whatever it is you want to accomplish in life, you’ve got to bite into it hard and, like a terrier, refuse to let go. Hone your craft, until you get it right.

Photographic Memories

What would we do without photographs? Sometime around 1827, Joseph Nicéphore Niépce captured the first fuzzy photo. What a long way we have come since then! We are constantly snapping away on our phones and posting the resulting images on Social Media. Visual images unite us when we can’t be together.  No more so, while we are in Lockdown.

%d bloggers like this: