I managed only to brush past the closing doors of the train at Sheffield station. I didn’t have time to look back onto the platform, I was too consumed by checking that my hands were clasped around the correct bag. Lilac and denim, with turquoise straps, just like they said. Continue reading Trains
A letter to myself when I’m in doubt Continue reading On Turning 24
The author attends a weekly counselling service with her therapist. It is a unique form of Cognitive Behavioural Therapy that uses art to enable catharsis. This week, they are discussing the assignment pieces. Continue reading Writing Therapy
When I was a little girl, I believed that if I swallowed the pip from a cherry I would grow into a tree. I think everybody used to think that – maybe. Continue reading Spitting Pips
“Rosie, put down Rufus and help me collect poppies. Poppies are red. The red ones with floppy leaves and a black centre.” Earth to Rosie. “The ones that smell like honey and pond-water.” Still nothing. “The ones that taste like bitter lemon and mouldy grass.” Seriously? “The big ladybirds on a stick,” Lily barked to her younger sister. Continue reading Poppies are Red
Rocking up looking like Kelly Clarkson, circa 2006.
My head literally wants to tear itself off of my own body though.
Help me, heeeeelp, there’s a rabid badger clawing at my scalp! Continue reading Dear Wanker-Hairdresser,
Written in 2014, inspired by Timothy West’s ‘This Gun That I Have in My Right Hand is Loaded’ (1972)
To be used as en example of a really bad radio drama. Continue reading Radio Drama