I have become a writing bore. Of course, I was boring before writing, I’ve just changed the subject. All I can talk about is writing, and the novel, oh and name-dropping Michael Sheen at the snarky woman who said she was glad they had special writing awards for ‘people like me.’ The lovely people in…
It was me. I stole all the tomatoes. Well, I didn’t steal them but while you were all panic buying loo roll and chocolate digestives I, in a covid-induced stupor, ordered tomato seeds. Do you garden? Were you one of the new recruits keen to make use of time on your hands, becoming self-sufficient on…
Photo by Armando Are on Pexels.com We have this myth that our kids are grownups at 18. This is a myth mostly perpetuated by 18-year-old who think they know everything, and possibly by the parents of young children who are desperately clinging to the idea of a little light at the end of a very…
Photo by Dimitry Anikin on Pexels.com ‘What time is it really?’ The dog and I stalk around the house trying to work it out, the shifting of the clocks having discombobulated us both. With our precise internal clocks, we are tipped off-kilter for the whole of November, trying to perform mental acrobatics to work out…
I quilt. Bear with me, there is a point to this. I make beautiful quilts. They are quirky, unusual, stunning - ask me nicely and I’ll show you my Harry Potter bookcase quilts. I have no difficulty in calling myself a quilter, even when meeting fabulously famous quilters, whose skill I could only ever dream…
Bordering Grey 