As soon as the taxi dropped me at home, I telephoned my mother to let her know I was safe and sound. “How long were you away this time?” she asked. “Nine weeks,” I said. “We had rehearsals in Tokyo and then performed at the Singapore Arts Festival.” There was a long silence on the other end… Read More
I am fifty years old and my ovaries are on their last legs. They manage to muster up enough effort to squeeze out a tired old egg every couple of months or so, but to be honest, we’ve reached the bottom of the barrel. Very soon there will be none left. I could be accused… Read More
When I read about other people’s grief, I am ashamed. I cannot legitimately take my place among those who mourn the loss of someone they loved, someone who they miss every day and who they long to see again for just a few moments. My husband is dead, and the manner of his death was unnatural… Read More
When I look back at my long marriage to a man who was emotionally damaged and took that damage out on me, I wonder why I stuck it out so long. I think of myself as intelligent, mature and courageous and yet all these character traits seemed absent within the four walls of our private lives. Allowing someone to abuse me for so long just doesn’t seem feasible given my personality.
It’s been a while since I’ve spoken to you, but today it is twenty years since we were married, so you’re on my mind.
The last four years, since you’ve been gone, have passed by so quickly, and there’s so much you’ve missed. Why, just yesterday, Rik Mayall passed away. I cried for the loss of his smile in this world, and because you would never know. Perhaps you do know. Maybe he’s with you somewhere, chuckling to himself about all the fuss he’s caused.