You know what? I'm getting pretty fed up with hearing that the only way to make it as a businessperson is to work shit-hard hours and ignore your family, friends and any other needs or priorities you might have. I was on a flight recently and the Easyjet magazine profiled the daily routines of … Continue reading The measure of success
A poem about becoming a mother, written earlier this year when my daughter would have been about 20 months old. Being mum Being me Which one is better? Which one is true? I sometimes wish I could do the maths, but I don't think it's a conundrum, a puzzle to be solved. It's a paradox. Becoming … Continue reading Being Mummy
Saturday morning, I was driving along in the big ol' comfy car*, an old-school hip hop mixtape playing through blowing speakers, on my way to a plant and seed exchange to give a talk about native Portuguese plants. I'm struck, not for the first time, by the unlikely juxtapositions- someone who is into bangin' beats … Continue reading When worlds collide
Only a few I have met in my life, and little of their experiences of service have they shared. I presume there are good reasons for this and I've never pushed the subject. I used to be vehemently anti-military, wondering why people couldn't just be civil to one another and sort things out via debate … Continue reading Soldiers
Today's result hardly comes as a surprise. It's more a massive disappointment, with a dragging sense of the inevitable. This seems to be our lot right now: the gods of chaos and war have taken control and are laughing with glee, while the benign entities who inspire us to greater things sit mutely weeping in … Continue reading On Trump and Brexit
Election day, Tuesday 8 November 2016. Warm and sticky, despite the time of year; in Louisiana, at least. The sense of a gathering storm. Henry Carter sat outside the building that housed the ballot boxes and reflected on what was taking place within. He would put his X on the paper later that day; shift … Continue reading Trump Card (Short Story)
Hello, dear readers. Let's hope you are plural in reality; you already are in my head. (Just for the record I'm actually not one of those who talks to various characters within their own mind, though I don't think there's necessarily anything wrong with that). Moving swiftly along: I'm Marilyn, a garden designer, wife, mum, bass player, … Continue reading Well here we all are at last!