All the things I do instead of writing…
Life in my house is always fun, which is rather a good thing too, as I spend nearly 24 hours a day in it. Some days, I'm full of motivation for getting all my chores done - drop husband off at the station at 6.50 am, hang around waiting for Sainsbury's to open at 7... Continue Reading →
Like many people my age, I was very sad to hear of Whitney Houston's death. It seems ridiculous being really upset all week about the premature death of someone you never even knew, but the voice is so familiar, and such a long background soundtrack to people's lives, that you can't help feeling like something... Continue Reading →
Last week seemed to have a bit of a non-stop schedule of activities based in the city, which made today's 10km run through the Arundel Estate in West Sussex all the more enjoyable. Still, I also went to the rather more rarefied spectacle of an evening at the Royal Opera House. I had got some... Continue Reading →
I am watching a documentary about a very old lady in a red jumper. “What is it like when you believe you will die in the next second?”, the interviewer asks. She is asked this a lot, she replies; and the answer is that you do not perceive any emotion – just blackness descending on... Continue Reading →
The resting writer 