Women of a certain age complain loudly about feeling invisible. They report being ignored in shops and restaurants, eyes glancing past them as though they weren’t even there. Many women are reluctant to stop colouring their hair because they think this will make the problem worse. In the society we live in, older people in general,… Read More
When my husband took his own life, he took part of mine with him. I was angry at him for a long time. In one moment he completely transformed the way I saw the world. I could no longer think clearly, believe in a benevolent Universe, or trust in my ability to understand people. He shattered… Read More
I don’t normally take photos of food, but this was so exquisite and so beautiful I wanted to remember it forever.
My boyfriend and I extended the long weekend into a mini city break and flew to Malaysia for four days. We stayed at the glorious Villa Samadhi, a traditionally inspired oasis in the centre of Kuala Lumpur.
There is a voice that whispers to me in the middle of the night, telling me my boyfriend is going to die. While he snores, while his breath is thick and heavy, I am reassured that he lives. It’s when he is quiet that I worry. I reach out to touch his back to make sure his chest is rising and falling, I watch the bedspread to make sure there is movement.
It’s nice to have some photos from the past again. Instead of stuffing them away in an album, I’m putting them here — evidence that once I was young.
You, who are approaching the end of your fertile years, hear the call of the sea.
You ache for the cool water to ease the hot blush on your face, to soften your dry elbows and erase the lines around your eyes.
This morning I woke to the news that I was dead. But unless I had somehow become Susie Salmon in Lovely Bones, narrating the story of my death from the afterlife, it wasn’t me. It was someone else who shared my name.
A trip out of the house turns into an adventure in the bush and the kindness of a stranger to get us back home.
On Saturday, my boyfriend’s ex-wife made a vow to love another man until they are parted by death. Unlike me, she isn’t afraid to give marriage another try.
When Conchita Wurst appeared on stage in a gold lamé gown, her eyes fringed in thick black eyelashes, her hair in long gentle waves, and her chin covered in a dark beard, she wasn’t a circus freak, she was a gorgeous, strange, mesmerising human being.
Today I am thankful that I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that not only do things get better, sometimes they get fucking amazing.
I am thankful I have time to write, read, blog, think, watch videos, listen to podcasts and interact on social media. I am exceedingly, utterly and completely grateful to have the gift of time.
