‘No. Nadda. Nope. Nyet!’ I hear you reply! And normally I’d be right there with you. I HATE it when you are bamboozled into visiting a recently vacationed/married/babied friend; expecting cake and a natter, maybe even some blow-by-blow accounts, TOPS… and then, before you’ve even had time to make up an urgent excuse to leave,… Continue reading Wanna see my snaps?
For about ten years now, I have felt horribly trapped. In a situation and marriage of my own making, and in a situation that there seemed no way out of. Until now… Something changed this Spring. I don’t know quite how. It wasn’t planned, or expected, but the winds of change have blown in; bringing… Continue reading New beginnings are scary
When we first met, I lied about my age. I was older than he, and embarrassed about it. I confessed, and he forgave me. It cast a faint shadow of mistrust. The first stone was laid in the wall between us. . He came from another country. He couldn’t move to be with me, A… Continue reading The Wall
Originally posted on The Hedgeblog:
Since I left my insane, abusive ex, the expected PTSD has revealed a most unexpected side effect. Counting time. You may not have heard of this. In fact I have googled it so many times, that the mouse finds its own way to the page now. And, guess what?? I…
To say that I am tired of hearing words like ‘Racist’ and ‘Bigot’ being flung around like cheap confetti at a crazed vampire-zombie wedding is the understatement of my year. These emotive words make me question my every action, interaction and thought. It forces me to change my natural human behaviours, and monitor my own… Continue reading I May Be A Racist.
This is Vicki Dennis. I came across her story on a community facebook page, and was so moved that I offered to share her letter on my blog. I asked Vicki to send me a photograph to make her letter more personal. What a pretty girl she is! And how tragic that she spends… Continue reading Vicki’s Open Letter
Dear Saturday, can you please explain these few things to me: When I decide to clean the bathroom on a whim, why is it that I only remember to wear rubber gloves at the last minute? Why is it that the minute I put bleach down the loo, every member of my family urgently needs… Continue reading Saturday Lament