From The Bottom Of My Pencil Case

August 22, 2020August 23, 2020 ~ myedinburghpress ~ 16 Comments

I left school thirty years ago. Thrown on life’s waves – that’s how I looked upon it. It was a fracture, something daunting, a major life change to be survived rather than to be relished. At least that’s how I think I felt, memory does play funny tricks on the truth. I loved school; I … Continue reading From The Bottom Of My Pencil Case

Whole

October 8, 2019October 10, 2019 ~ myedinburghpress ~ 22 Comments

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

Pigs Might Fly

November 19, 2018 ~ myedinburghpress ~ 4 Comments

I’m finding it hard to let go of the weekend. It was such a lovely one, pink whipped morning skies and trails of orange cloud by evening; the evening (when measured by the availability of light) being 3.30pm. Neither my mind nor body have quite made it to Monday and I’m hankering to be back … Continue reading Pigs Might Fly