Tag Archives: writing

Last Night of the Proms

I caught the end of the Last Night of the Proms on television last night.  The Royal Albert Hall was once again filled with people, many wearing blue berets with yellow European Union stars, but most waving small Union Jacks … Continue reading

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Searching for LouLou

I’ve always prided myself on not being influenced by commercials. As a girl, I made many of my own clothes, summer dresses and skirts especially, and would tweak the model, so it would be slightly different from the pictures in … Continue reading

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My Work Space

I spend my days at a 60 x 60 cm table with a laminated beech surface and folding steel legs.  It’s an exam desk, really, the kind I sat my school exams at, with a groove for pens. I couldn’t … Continue reading

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The rain is calling

The rain is calling. Stop hiding. I’m sitting at my work table, reading the Saturday papers online while trying to psych myself up to work. My eyes keep drifting away from the screen to the raindrops landing sharply on the … Continue reading

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My Citrine Quartz Ring

My friend F. gave me a ring two summers ago. Even elegant Autumn stomped in this year, perhaps sensing that subtlety was wasted on us.  The bay tree on our balcony is waterlogged, the French windows are streaked with rain, … Continue reading

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Through a Zoom Lens*

My favourite thing after I wake up in the morning is to step out on the balcony outside my study and stand beneath the vast expanse of the East Anglian skies.  The pigeons are generally sitting on the railings or … Continue reading

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The Lady of Paris

When I first saw her, a few weeks ago, while crossing the Pont Saint-Michel, she looked like the ghost of a bygone age, her earthly life a memory, her soul gone from the stone.  Grey against the bleak, overcast night … Continue reading

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New Moon, New Month

The crescent of a new moon is slowly emerging through the darkening sky.  A pale silver at first, now with a bright, almost golden glow.  A waxing new moon.  A middle-aged lady in the flat down the corridor, when I … Continue reading

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Paris, 14 Juillet

We were in Paris this time last year.  I was enjoying the buzz and feeling shortchanged: we don’t have national holidays in England, at least none that carry any kind of historical significance.  No religious holidays except Christmas and Easter, … Continue reading

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Reconnecting

The fountain pen feels heavy in my hand.  I haven’t written for a long time.  I mean written – not typed.  That I do every day, all day.  Click, click.  Irregular, hollow.  I tap the plastic keys, one letter at a … Continue reading

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