They say after every seven years of life, there is a shift. Some might say it is far greater than a shift, it is a transformation. After seven years, every cell of one’s skin has been shed, regenerated, and a new person is born. Seven is the mystical number linked to the idea of completion … Continue reading Every Seven Years
Our Mum went to the bother of having all these children and now that she has a big birthday – one that is divisible by twenty – most of us aren’t able to go and celebrate it with her, and that doesn’t seem fair. She’s great, our mum; her legs don’t bend at the knees … Continue reading Our Mum
My dad would have been 81 today but he died a few years shy of seeing another decade. It’s long enough ago for me to reflect peacefully, to cradle his absence from a place of stillness. Not that opening packages of memory comes without emotion, but now any pain I feel has a soft give, … Continue reading Whole
I woke up to a tentative knock on the bedroom door. A reminder that I wasn’t in my own flat. Quick mental search: sleepy, encased in high thread-count cotton sheets, light trickling in through unfamiliar curtains. Yes, Bristol. Arrived last night. In came the boys, two Js., slowly, carefully, one with a cup of tea … Continue reading All The Diamonds
Cake, then a walk, and then cake again. Yesterday was a day of belated birthday celebrations (actually, three belated, and one anticipated) and it all centred around cake, two types. K. and S. came over the day before to help bake them: a Victoria Sponge, so large it was borderline rude, and a less-shouty carrot … Continue reading Cake, Two Types
Happy Birthday to E., to R. and to L. To the two of you who live here in Edinburgh, I hope to see you both soon. (I know it will be a little after the event, but there is cake and a cup of tea - maybe more - going at mine next month on … Continue reading Happy Birthday
My Edinburgh Press 