If I had a cat he would be called Stevens. As things stands I don’t have any pets – but nevertheless, this is an understanding we have in our household. That one day, Cat Stevens may become a family member.
When I was a young girl in the 70s, we used to go out for drives in the country at the weekend, legs scorching on faux-leather seats, with the warm smell of my dad’s plaid shirt in my nostrils, and our favourite 8-tracks on the stereo. Read More »
I was delighted when I was asked last year if I would be happy to contribute to a book about childlessness that was being written by Lesley Pyne. Lesley’s website was the first place I ever released a piece of my own writing into the wild – when I felt compelled to tell my own story – one of the hardest, but most important things I’ve ever done.Read More »
I found this poem recently that spoke to me of a particular time, a particular place and a story not yet told. A place I encountered and instantly knew was one of the ‘Thin Places’
A place that turned me into a Catherine wheel. And, though fireworks will always burn themselves out, as is their very nature, they leave their colours in your soul, to take with you when you are elsewhere, and fireworks aren’t appropriate.
And while that untold story is being formed, I leave you with a view of this sunshine seat. Your own may be anywhere, you may not have visited yet – but you’ll know it when you arrive.
On sunshine seat we find our feet
and get to feel the heat of love, the numb warms up and the frozen leaves
for this seat wakes the sleeping buds;
it wakes them all, the big and small the fearful and the tightly closed,
on sunshine seat we greet the heat
and open, like the thankful rose.
The clouds go by, we hear a sigh
coming from our weary hearts,
and sense a change, a flaming wave
of quite delightful charming sparks,
that turn us into catherine wheels
fizzing through the shifting hours,
on sunshine seat we’re strong, not weak
we see us as the great empowered.
On sunshine seatthe word ‘defeat’
is not a word that’s ever heard,
but ‘gorgeous’ is, along with ‘bliss’
and the views go far beyond superb,
for sunshine seat sits on the cliffs
looking out at sea and sky,
and all souls leap on this old seat
for it always takes the spirit high.
~ Andrew Hobbs
· Forty and Everything After 2018 · Poem by Andrew Hobbs · Artist Unknown
I have a box at the top of my house, hidden away at the back of a room. It is a very battered old box. Pretty scruffy and ugly if truth be told. And most of the year it just sits there. Not getting disturbed much, apart from occasionally being dragged out roughly from its confines in order to enable access to some other box that sits behind it or underneath it.
But every so often, some thing will enter my house. Some small item or piece of paper or card and, as I head up to the bathroom or to the bedroom to turn on a lamp, I might drop this small item on a stair and think
“I must put that in the box later”
Perhaps the next morning this item will accompany me and I will, without ceremony, lift a corner of this box’s battered lid, and slide whatever the item might be into its confines – not looking in the box, or paying any attention to where the item lands. But this is where the item now lives. And will live, for as long as I do too.Read More »