Monthly Archives: May 2019

the kinks…

I am a dedicated follower of doing things that work wonders for other people. Over the years I have tiptoed and trespassed across other people’s experiences with similar problems in order to solve my own. I am not original. I am my literary heroines. Nothing I do is unique. I love to deep dive into the lives of other people – literature, film, poetry, art, memoirs and story-telling. I deep dive into the lives and souls of other people and collect pearls, oysters and ormers to make into necklaces (not without consent). I turn words into wine and devour each morsel, getting high on the fumes. At the moment I am sea swimming – inspired by other people it wasn’t my idea at all.

Sea swimming is good for the mind and soul

“O reader, do not ask of me how I
grew faint and frozen then – I cannot write it:
all words would fall far short of what it was.
I did not die, and I was not alive;
think for yourself, if you have any wit,
what I became, deprived of life and death.”
The Ninth Circle of Hell from Dante’s Inferno


The Mighty Boosh…

“But if there’s trouble she’s got the moves 
She’s taking an elementary class in kung fu.
I left my washing in the launderette
You can put some money on it, you can place a little bet
That when I see my washing
The black will be grey and the white will be grey
But the blues are still blue…”
(Belle & Sebastian)
Travelling through the Dante’esque midst of motherhood makes me wonder why the landscape hasn’t been re-imagined or redefined. ‘The Baby Blues’ sounds like the name of a junior football team, right? All of the terms I know about motherhood have been entirely unrelatable to the experience, in my world, they just don’t cut it! The reality of postpartum life is nothing like I have read or heard about, online, in-books or in-person.
(Chalice Well Gardens, Glastonbury, Spring Equinox 2018)
It’s an orgasmic chill, an ecstatic whiplash, a guttural cry, a wild stranger, a cosmic ride at the theme park of existence! For me, it was an unbearable and unimagined state of fierce being, like serving a sentence at the Emotional State Penitentiary and being put on laundrette duties even though you would be better in the kitchen because you can be a brilliant cook with the right recipe books and a well structured artisan-style pinafore, right? My eyes held their own private sacrificial tsunamis at any time without any given warning, fuelled by the mighty hormonal fires of creating another tiny human. I had been indulging in a bit of Frankie Boyle’s ‘New World Order’ on Mother’s Day when my partner walked in with a huge bunch of flowers. In a split-second I turned into a wailing walrus of overwhelming hormonal bittersweet bliss, my cheeks were instantly saturated like a pair of ponchos on a wet bank holiday weekend. I had been quite happily laughing along with Frankie and then suddenly my eyelids were The Great Wave off Kanagawa by Hokusai. It’s been insane in the membrane. I wish there were better words to paint the picture.