Tag Archives: scribe doll
A Bookshop for Free Thinkers
It was advertised through Twitter as a book launch cum Charles Dickens’ birthday party, two years ago. I decided it was the only way to spend a snowy February evening. Trying to keep my balance on the icy Chelsea street, … Continue reading
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