Tag Archives: katherine gregor
Picking Up The Pen Again
Just start. Take that first – hard – step. “I haven’t written since before Christmas,” I say to H. “If we stay at home, I’ll just keep working. I really want to write something – anything – today. Besides, we both need fresh … Continue reading
Winter and the Art of Waiting – and Trusting
One of my recurring nightmares is missing Christmas. When I am under intense stress and feel like I am losing control of my life, I start dreaming that, somehow or other, I’ve overslept, miscalculated the dates, forgot to look at … Continue reading
Chatting to Peter O’Toole in Kit Marlowe’s Theatre
We happened to find ourselves in the same corner of the room, looking at a print on the wall, sipping our drinks. We gave each other a polite nod. I was trying not to look too starstruck. Ordinarily, I am … Continue reading
“I feel guilty, it’s all my fault, I’m a bad person” – a Cop-Out?*
I’ve been thinking about the guilt emotion. Wondering if guilt can sometimes provide a secure – albeit uncomfortable – hiding place. Guilt gnaws at our insides. It pinches so hard at the bottom of our lungs, that we cannot take a … Continue reading
Yes
A sea of people rushes forth as soon as the traffic lights turn green. A faceless crowd all looking down as they stride. I dodge them to avoid collision. I try in vain to catch someone – anyone’s – eye. A man’s … Continue reading
Sisters
My sister and I first met nine years ago. Half-sisters, technically. Just two of the numerous offspring scattered around Europe by a father who was – it would appear – irresistible to women. V. and I studied each-other across the table … Continue reading
Poetry?
I don’t like poetry. There. I’ve said it. Go ahead and tell me that’s as bad as not liking children or animals – or art. Well, I like most children. I love animals. As for art, I like it – as … Continue reading
Saint Jude’s Storm
“Some are saying it could be the worst hurricane since 1987,” my friend said to me, yesterday, in response to my blasé attitude. That’s when I sat up and took notice. Until that point, I confess, weather warnings and news … Continue reading
The Sweet Sound of Pear Wood
It had lain in its case, on top of the CDs, since I moved here last April. Occasionally, I would pick it up and blow the dust off the black cloth case, but never open it, even though I longed … Continue reading
Befriending Lady E.
VIP transport was arranged for her relocation from Ukraine. Her immediate members of staff had moved to London ahead of her to get everything ready. The flat, in a quiet, tree-lined street, was furnished; the fridge was stocked with her … Continue reading