Category: Personal

Reflections about my life.

Why I make things harder than they have to be …
```
"... no room for regret 
deep down I know 
I took the longest road 
to get to where 
I am meant to be ..." 
```
All my life I’ve been told that I try too hard and, I’ll admit, I used to take that as a compliment. I prided myself on always going the extra mile. I’ve been dependable, hard working and, though I hate to say it, a safe pair of hands. But who wants to be described as a safe pair of hands? It conjures up images of a boring, unimaginative workhorse, who gets the job done but never displays any initiative. At least, that’s my association with it. Is it just me? I suspect not.

When I think back on my working career, I believe that my most successful working relationships were with people who liked to push the boundaries, take risks and bend the rules. Opposites attract, right? We complemented one another. I was always the sensible one, steering a steady ship, keeping things afloat. The one who could do the admin, produce the data, follow the rules and, by so doing, keep my more reckless colleagues on course.

It’s only as I’ve grown older that I’ve learnt to recognise what has driven my behaviour for much of my life. I don’t want to get too deep into self-analysis here, because that’s not what this is about at the end of the day. We all accept, I think, that how we chose to live our lives is deeply rooted in our upbringing, education, experiences, values … you name it, all kinds of stuff will play its part in how we turn out. I’m your textbook middle child to some degree, but there’s also a host of other factors thrown into the mix, that makes me who and what I am.

I’m one of those people who will do it properly, whatever it is. I’m all in. If I needed to write a performance review at work, I did it to the best of my ability. I put time aside, even if it meant eating into my own time; I did the research; wrote a draft and self-edited; I submitted it on time. If I invite friends for dinner, I’ll cook from scratch. If I meet a friend for a chat over coffee, I’ll listen intently. I still iron my clothes; wash my kitchen floor; check my bank account regularly.

Boring, I know, but I can’t help it. It’s who I am and how I choose to show up in this world. And just lately, having listened to the news headlines, offering up a daily diet of scandal and deception, it feels more important than ever to stay true to my values. It’s forced me to question why I feel so let down by public figures from whom I expected better. It’s challenged me to look within, acknowledging and embracing the reasons why I continue to expect so much of myself. It begins with childhood but, at some point, we each take control of our destiny and must own our choices.

I know I haven’t always made life easy for myself. Rarely so. It took me a long time to find my niche, to feel comfortable in my own skin. I know I could’ve made other choices. Couldn’t we all? But I made choices that were right for me, even if that meant I took the longer route to get to where I wanted to be. Half of it was chance, as it is for most of us I think. I had no idea, really, what I wanted to do or be as I left school. I just knew I needed to do it my way and I have.

In a world where everything feels unhinged, I’ll admit that I’m still showing up as a safe pair of hands. It feels necessary, if only to and for myself.

the longest road Download
11/02/2026
Why ghosts don’t scare me …
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"... it’s other ghosts
that haunt me 
disquieting my days 
loss lingers 
in dark corners 
seldom visited 
but always present ..."
```
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about transition. I believe most people go through a number of transitions in their lives. Such periods are often represented by something significant, a talisman of sorts, that will forever remind you of that time. It might be a wedding ring, a piece of furniture, a house or car key, a favourite item of clothing. These objects come to represent something beyond how they began; they signify not only an event in time, but all the growth that led up to and followed it.

Such objects are usually tangible, and we often carry them with us, long after the event they signify. I still wear a ring that a friend gave me on my 21st, during what was a significant turning point in my life. I look at it now and think about how far we’ve both come, the journeys we’ve made, the decisions taken, the experiences shared. She lives in Australia, and we haven’t seen each other for decades, but our bond remains strong.

A couple of experiences recently have reminded me that much of what captures our imagination is intangible. I’ve just read Hilary Mantel’s memoir, Giving Up the Ghost, written before she took the world by storm with her incredible Wolf Hall trilogy. Her story prompted me to reflect on ghosts from my past. At the same time, I went to see the film adaptation of Maggie O’Farrell’s beautiful book, Hamnet, which explores the loss of a child and the different ways we grieve.

To many, they may appear completely unrelated, but to me they explored similar themes and I could certainly relate to both. I love that art, in all its forms, can do this: fire up our imagination and ignite memories long buried. It’s why I chose my by-line connection through creativity. It’s why I write: to connect to self and to others.

There’s a moment when I finish a book, or a film, when it feels appropriate to sit in silence. I need a minute or two, having reached the end of the story, to weigh up its impact. If it’s a particularly good book or film, the impact will linger for days, if not weeks. I carry it with me, an intangible talisman, to help navigate and articulate my own experience.

Sadly, at the end of Hamnet, people around me stirred within seconds of the credits starting, which almost broke the spell, but not quite. Both experiences prompted this week’s poem. When I showed it to my husband, he observed that perhaps I’m too preoccupied with death. But I don’t think this is a poem about death at all. I completely accept that each person will interpret a poem in their own way; that’s the joy of poetry don’t you think? What I took from both the book and the film was the thought that we all carry ghosts of some kind within us. It’s how we learn to live with those ghosts that shapes much of our lives. That might be the memory of a loved one who has died, but as outlined above, I believe ghosts may derive from many sources.

It prompted me to think about my choices, leading me down one path rather than another. All choices have consequences, good, bad or indifferent. I could spend a lot of time and energy reviewing those choices, perhaps regretting the fact that I missed out on the roads not taken. Regrets could literally haunt me. I’m sure we’ve all met people who have lived their lives in regret; people who never seem happy and who resent the happiness of others.

I don’t want to live my life that way. People may feel a certain loyalty to the ghosts they carry. But letting go doesn’t have to mean abandonment, it’s simply readjustment. The love you feel for a lost loved one will always remain. That’s healthy. The regret you feel for a choice not made is perhaps not so healthy. It can be liberating to give up the ghost; if it weighs you down perhaps it’s time to let it go.

ghosts Download
28/01/2026
How I’ve made peace with time …
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"... it’s amazing the gifts 
that come with now 
the sweet smell 
of morning air 
the sound of wind 
through trees 
sunshine warming skin 
so much it sighs ..." 
```
As I was approaching retirement, literally everyone I spoke to who was already on the other side of that journey told me, “I honestly don’t know where I found the time to work”, or “I’m busier now than ever …!” I’m sure this will sound familiar to most. If you are not retired yourself, you will undoubtedly know someone who is, and you will have heard these or similar comments.

Time is a funny thing isn’t it? It feels elastic and unsteady. I remember my dad telling me when I reached the grand age of 25, that future years would go faster and faster. At the time, I didn’t believe him. Surely, time is time, it’s fixed: so how can that make sense? But, turns out, he was right. I’ve certainly felt like time has passed at an increasingly alarming rate as I’ve ticked off the decades.

My relationship with time hasn’t always been a positive one. Looking back, it has led to stress and anxiety. Why? Because I’ve tried to chase it, contain it, understand it. All of it unsuccessfully. I’ve tried to make friends with it, filling it with things I love to do, negotiating with it how to divide up pockets of my day, in an effort to be more productive. Gosh, it sounds exhausting doesn’t it?

It was all fuelled by good intention, that’s the thing. I’ve never been one of those people who constantly complained about the lack of time. Rather, I approached it with positivity, hoping I think to love-bomb it into submission. It didn’t work.

Finally, in my 60th year, I think I’ve cracked the secret. I’ve made my peace with time. I’ve realised that I can’t control it, I can only respond to it. Goodness knows why it took me so long! During my recent travels, my relationship with time changed, in a positive way. I accepted time for what it was: inevitable and therefore, in some ways, irrelevant. I didn’t have to negotiate with it, or try to understand it. I just had to let it be, and get on with my life regardless. It felt so liberating!

Don’t get me wrong, I know that time cannot simply be ignored. I was taught from the earliest age that punctuality mattered greatly; I still believe that. To turn up late is a sign of disrespect in my book. We’d live in a world of chaos if we didn’t operate according to a 24 hour clock. We need to know when to turn up for a train, when to attend a scheduled appointment and, most importantly, what time to take a cake out of the oven!

All that said, I’ve stopped trying to pack as much into my day as I can. I’ve let go of planning every minute of my life. It’s okay not to have plans and to simply respond to your mood. It’s refreshing to change your mind about your day based, for example, on the weather. It can be hugely rewarding to have space in your diary, so that if a friend contacts you to say, “are you free for a coffee?”, you can actually say yes!

Someone once told me that the greatest gift you can bestow on another is the gift of time. I’ve spent my life doing just that and, for the most part, gifting my time to others willingly with love. But what I’ve started to do increasingly is gift myself. I’ve made a conscious decision to do my best to live in the moment. I know, I know, it sounds so corny. But if being alive to my surroundings, conscious of how I am feeling right now, is corny, then so be it. I’m as much at peace with that as with time itself.

time Download
21/01/2026
How to survive Christmas …
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"... I can’t be the only one
planning an escape 
on a boat built for one 
simple but spacious 
room enough 
to stretch out 
on long lazy days 
held in the embrace 
of a forgiving sea ..."
```
There’s part of me wondering if I’m swimming against the tide this week but instinct suggests otherwise. I feel sure I won’t be the only one wondering how on earth it came to be Christmas week already. I can hear half the country protesting that they’re not ready, even whilst some will be feeling quietly smug, their preparations all in hand. But it is never that simple is it, and there will be a fair few, hiding on the periphery, who don’t feel invested at all, for all manner of reasons.

Christmas is complicated! Many may well feel frustrated that it’s a challenge to find the Christmas story in the midst of the hyper-consumerism that has completely taken over this festive holiday. In addition to the buying of far too many gifts, there’s the food and drink that adds additional pressure as well as extra pounds. And when did the Christmas trim-up become a competitive sport?

All that said, it can be infectious. I was in York on Sunday for a Winter Solstice concert and went into town early to soak up some of the Christmas atmosphere. Despite the dampening weather, the lights looked magical and the crowds were jovial. It was easy to be swept along, tempted by a mince pie and a yearning for snow.

What is it about Christmas that makes so many of us nostalgic for a Christmas past? Perhaps some of us are impossibly optimistic for the Christmas present? Whatever it is, I suspect our feelings will be fuelled by love: the reality of it, the loss of it, the yearning for it.

Whatever your plans for Christmas, I think it’s safe to say that you’ll have to be flexible. No matter how well organised, you’ll forget something. No matter how meticulously orchestrated, something or someone will put a spanner in the works. Isn’t it always the way? And if you are not organised, don’t panic, it’s unlikely to end in disaster. Something or someone will probably turn up to fill the gap that you didn’t manage to fill yourself.

Not everyone will be with people they love. Not everyone will spend the day as they chose. Some people will chose to be alone, whilst others will be lonely. Some will relish the opportunity to “do” Christmas, whilst others will feel exhausted by the whole thing. The reality is that most of us will feel all of these things at various stages in the proceedings. Like a good old Christmas buffet, we’ll tuck into portions of happiness, joy, frustration, anger and jealousy. We’re human after all.

This week’s poem is not about Christmas per se, but about that feeling many of us may experience when it all gets too much. At this time of year, I’m sure many of you can relate. I’ve been listening recently to a new podcast by the wonderful Katherine May (author of the brilliant book, Wintering), called The Clearing. Each week she interviews her guest about their imagined place of retreat, and it got me thinking about how I choose to withdraw from the world. This is not a negative act at all but one of self-preservation. I need to retreat into silence sometimes in order to reconnect with my inner voice, the one that always seems to know the way. Only then can I go back into the world, with renewed purpose and energy. I feel sure I’ll need to do that throughout the festive period, which is perfectly normal. Well, it’s normal for me at any rate and, like the poem says, I’m sure I’m not alone in that.

My hope for you this Christmas week is that you enjoy it, however you spend it, and that you remember to look after your own needs as well as everyone else’s. If you do, I can guarantee a much happier Christmas!

retreat Download
24/12/2025
Why silence creates connection …
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"... after weeks of quiet 
the world suddenly 
sounds loud 
instinct would have me 
block it out 
but I’m working on 
tuning back in 
which I know I must ..."
```
Years ago I completed The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron and it totally changed the way I think about creativity. In fact, I’ve done it twice, once with a friend and later again on my own. Perhaps you’ve heard of it and possibly completed it yourself? I expect that everyone who does it will take from it something unique to them; equally there will undoubtedly be plenty of shared revelations too. Turns out that if you dedicate time in your day to focus on your creativity, then it will come. Who knew? Before I took up The Artist’s Way, I used to think that inspiration would find me but that’s not how it works. Not for most people anyhow. You have to work at it, give it time and space, and welcome it in.

I recently listened to an interview with Jackie Kay on Radio 4’s This Cultural Life, where she basically said the same thing. She recounted that writing is her best friend because it was always there for her, as long as she turned up. She also quoted Picasso who apparently said, “Inspiration will come but it’s got to find you working”.

I gave a copy of The Artist’s Way to one of my work colleagues last year as she was struggling to find her voice and I thought it might help. When looking to order the book, I saw that Julia Cameron had written a new book called The Listening Path, and I bought a copy for myself, thinking I’d give it a go. Like The Artist’s Way, it’s a guided course over a number of weeks and the focus is on listening. It’s been sitting on a shelf ever since, but now feels like the right time to pick it up. I reasoned that it might help me focus as I adapt to life back in the UK. I think it’s a good shout because soundscapes feel very alive to me just now. Perhaps it’s to be expected after weeks of relative quiet, living in a camper van, feeling small in the midst of huge landscapes.

I’ll admit that I didn’t expect the adjustment to life back in the UK to be quite so difficult. I didn’t think I’d have to work at it. I just assumed that I’d slip seamlessly back into my routines, like riding a bike as the saying goes. But instead, I’ve found everything so loud, fast paced and, frankly, somewhat uncomfortable. It’s tempting to block it out, and retreat into my own little world. But through The Listening Path, I was invited to consider that when you block unwelcome noise, you become disconnected . It’s only when you welcome in sounds that you’re connected and in tune with your environment. This makes sense: how can I be alive to the moment if I’ve closed the door on it?

As a result, I’ve really tried to tune in to what is going on around me, which is how I came to write this week’s poem. It hasn’t always been easy, and the evening we recently spent having dinner with our best friends, proved a real test for me. I simply couldn’t keep up with the conversation and the temptation was to give up. But I didn’t; I persevered. We stayed overnight, as we always do due to the distance between our two houses, and the following morning it was such a delight to sit in their living room and purposefully tune into the sounds emerging from the kitchen. It reminded me that all of life is precious. It’s hard to beat the experience of sharing home-cooked food around a table with people you love. Yet, all the work that goes into preparing a meal and the cleaning up afterwards, is a necessary part of the same story isn’t it? Finally, I knew I was glad to be home, re-connected to my life, ready to tune in, listen and be inspired.

I’d encourage you to focus on the sounds you can hear and how you respond, creativity may emerge if and when you work at it.

soundscape Download
10/12/2025