Creative nonfiction essays
Not all Clara's experiences are mine – she's more than happy to embroider or borrow from friends if it makes for a good story. Clara is a big fan of Cecily – her influence may be evident. Clara tried in vain to find ways to cultivate creativity, express originality, and add lightness as she spent … Continue reading Clara’s musings
For most of our last year at high school, my best friend Eva and I spent every French class in the common room playing 500 with whoever was around. None of the other seventh formers commented.; perhaps they didn’t notice; or perhaps they thought we had a lot of study periods in our timetable. Our … Continue reading French class with Mr Lewis (or how I became an expert 500 player)
Pink things are sneaking into my bathroom and stealing into my bedroom, insinuating themselves uninvited. In the bathroom, a pink toothbrush and soapdish, a pink pot plant container for the maidenhair fern and a pink spray bottle to keep it misted and moist. By day, I wear sober blues and sombre blacks. At night, I … Continue reading Pretty pink things
Photo by Florian Schmetz on Unsplash Beneath the self-congratulations and thankfulness that we can hug family and friends and relax these summer holidays without the worry of catching Covid, anxiety gently tumbles in my mind like the towels in my front-loading dryer. This is surely just a period of respite now that a more transmissible … Continue reading Days of uncertain sunshine
It’s been a long time since I really cried. I used to be in tears regularly, every three-and-a half weeks like clockwork, but not since my monthly cycles stopped, not since my husband started taking antidepressants. If someone close to me dies or I’m at a funeral there’ll be tears. And if, God forbid, something … Continue reading No more tears
The poppies that grew in my grandfather’s quarter-acre garden were bedraggled specimens. Each individual plant sat apart, marooned in its own patch of dull brown soil. Similarly the lemon trees dotted around the grassy lawn were like respectable neighbours who preferred to keep at arm's length. The lemon trees had the attraction of glossy leaves … Continue reading Of poppies and passionfruit
On the first morning, I wake at daybreak and join my sister, Gill, downstairs in the lane where she’s gone for the first smoke of the day. Out on the Stradun—the wide main street of the walled Old Town—it’s empty and hushed but for the clatter on limestone of a scattering of hand-carts taking fresh … Continue reading Destination Dubrovnik
"Everywhere you go, there you are." (Attributed to Confucius) When I think about the people who matter most to me, lines of connection radiate in an uneven starburst from where I am. I find myself at the centre of a mental map, visualising distances and direction, imperceptible threads arcing to wherever they are. Fainter strands … Continue reading You are here, here you are
It’s quiet. All day and every day. Unless the radio or tv is on or there's music playing. There's scarcely any traffic, which makes walks along the foreshore a pleasure. Across the harbour lies the forbidden city, the empty cafes, the abandoned offices. Native birds are venturing further afield, though in this seaside suburb, it’s … Continue reading No ordinary quiet
Lists are not the bane of my life, far from it. Without lists, my life would be as bereft as a day without music, as soulless as a world with books, and as empty as a fridge without cheese. Without lists, we’d all be lost. There’d be no dictionaries, telephone directories, or electoral rolls. There’d … Continue reading The loveliness of lists
Fragments of an ordinary life 