out loud I write – what I miss

A few days ago I went on one of my little trips to Sainsbury’s. I’m not particularly partial to a big shop, little and often is more my style.  As I walked through the green lit barriers that had automatically opened before me I veered to the left only to be arrested by a card… Continue reading out loud I write – what I miss

where my brother’s dreams were made. & laid

I made the decision last month to go to Rhodes/Rodos this year, and see where my brother died. I was thinking October time when it’ll be a bit cooler, and also how nice it would be if one of my besties, R, came with me, but not feeling too sure if she’d fly or not,… Continue reading where my brother’s dreams were made. & laid

tears and joy

a special day deserves special treats especially wrapped up like little sweets for what would have been my brother’s birthday little treats totalled 24 pounds 24, the age when he suddenly died and a woman waiting to purchase a ring would you believe it was her birthday too synchronicity always my tiger my rock happy… Continue reading tears and joy

what I’d tell my younger self

There were a few things that came up today in my bereavement writing group, as they often do, mostly around wisdom which funnily enough I have something about that written on my whatsapp profile – ‘Self reflection is the first condition of wisdom’ (attributed to Plato, possible ripped off from Aristotle?). There’s often various intertwining… Continue reading what I’d tell my younger self

my heart rises

we had a couple of visitors at Write Out Loud today, two artists working on an interactive performative piece for the Good Grief Festival Hastings at the end of May 26. The project was explained and a prompt given, a conical spiral, but not exactly, sewn onto a napkin, made in response to feelings of… Continue reading my heart rises

a work in progress

there’s been a project that I’ve been working on here and there that began in 2024. or you could say 2014, or perhaps 1977 even. it’s a project based on childhood trauma that I felt a need to work through, to process through stitch. it carries a profound sadness but also a celebration, of an… Continue reading a work in progress