Oct 272014
 
Writing for pleasure

Inspired by a Facebook post from a former colleague, in which she enthused about a free online course done through FutureLearn, I’ve decided to try out a course for myself. It’s called Start Writing Fiction. I love to write, as anyone who’s seen me drafting the most innocuous of work emails can attest. Something about finding the right word or phrase gives me such pleasure. I know that people enjoy reading what I write, as well, because they tell me so. I have the gift of being able to take events and ideas from my life, and to say things about them in a way that people find engaging. Yet Read full post >>

Oct 022014
 

Sometimes life throws me an in-too-deep moment, where my illusions of being a rational, sensible being in control of its life are overpowered by chaos. My day so far: arrive at office luxuriating in the thought of the cup of coffee I am going to make find there is no coffee left curse gently make tea go to desk begin work on fiddly data cleaning job feel intense frustration at fiddly data cleaning job push papers to one side with annoyance at their fiddliness in process, sweep cup of tea over, filling keyboard with tea curse liberally while draining keyboard onto desk curse liberally while mopping up tea feel pleased Read full post >>

Jul 312014
 
Four years

On 31st July 2010, I’d just arrived in Ethiopia. Everything I’d imagined happening during the rest of my life had vanished. I was unemployed, homeless, and didn’t really know who I was any more. But I was also alone, footloose, and free of responsibilities. There were many pieces falling through the air, but also a clear space for them to fall into. What a difference four years make. At times, it can feel that the settled demands of a steady life are closing me in, that I’m becoming stuck – or unstuck. But it pays to think back. It makes me remember there are always unseen options; that fear and Read full post >>

May 182014
 

Last night, I went with my sister and her partner to see Martin Simpson at Cecil Sharp House. He was as brilliant as he always is. But this isn’t a post about Martin Simpson. This is a post about a black cab ride. I’d ridden up to Camden on my bike, along the canal as I usually do. When I picked up my bike to come home again, around eleven o’clock, I hadn’t gone far before realising I had a flat tyre. Immediately, I felt furious. First with the bike. Then with myself, for not bringing my tools, a pump and a spare tube, as I usually do. Then with Read full post >>

Apr 272014
 
Therapy

It’s been a while, Internet. I haven’t talked to you for some time. I’m not sure I had all that much to say. Things have been interesting, but they’ve been draining, too. The sheer number of people and tasks I deal with at work leaves me pretty out of whack by the end of the day; if I have the evening at home, I kind of want to retreat. And if I go out and see a film or a friend or go to my Quaker meeting, there isn’t time or energy left to write by the end of the day. Lately, at home on my own, I’ve been playing Read full post >>

Nov 152013
 

On the train this morning: lots of litter on the table opposite – newspapers and coffee cups and such. A woman sitting down at that table picks it all up and dumps it all down on my table, then looks offended by my surprised look. She says “what?” as if asking me to explain myself. So I say that there is probably a bin at the end of the carriage. She says there is never a bin on trains, and anyway, she didn’t leave the litter on the table. (I think: you did leave it on mine). I pick up the cups and paper and take them to the bin Read full post >>