I've been something of a performer all my life. At primary school, it was drama. I never got to be the heroine or the pretty princess, but that didn't bother me (mostly). Gleeful, gorgeous, grotesque riches were bestowed upon me in the form of 'character' parts: witches, ghosts, and anyone requiring an accent. I got … Continue reading Performance
As a kid, most of my spare time was spent drawing. It was my earliest passion. I was no savant. But I suppose, on reflection, I did have at least some innate "gift". The people I colourfully produced aged just three, in bright felt tip, were anatomically correct (in as much as having, for example, … Continue reading A passion, stolen
[Author's note: I'm publishing this post almost simultaneously with a previous one because I had both stored up as drafts in my paper notebook, but hadn't had sufficient "get-up-and-go" to publish them until now. This is the more recent of the two.. However, I felt that the other post was sufficiently time-specific to need publishing … Continue reading It’s never all bad.
[Feature image description: close-up view of the trunk of a Weeping Willow tree, viewed from behind the metal railings of a bridge, diagonally leading away from the bottom left to the top right of the image. The tree is resplendent with masses of bright green leaves hanging downwards. Behind the tree and its branches, a … Continue reading The same crap, on top of everything different
Today I noticed something: the stitching on the cuffs of a top I was wearing was coming loose. The top had been bought from a local charity shop (as are the majority of my clothes - I dislike high street shopping). It had been like new when I purchased it...or so I had thought until … Continue reading Aut couture: a sartorial life history
[Trigger warning: sorry, it's that EU Referendum thing again.] This November just gone, with money given to me for my thirty-sixth birthday, I bought my first pair of Doctor Martens boots in quite some years. Metallic purple treated leather. Classic eight-eyelet, ankle-length style. By golly gosh, they're comfortable, beautiful, and I love them. I'd got … Continue reading The Tyranny of Choice