Tag: 2023

year in which poem was written

Why memories matter even when they can’t be trusted …
```
"... perhaps part of grief
is mourning the space 
left behind ..."
```
I’ve been thinking about how precious memories can be and yet, at the same time, how they cannot be trusted. I’ve written a journal all my adult life and I sometimes revisit old volumes and read entries from past years. Mostly, I write about feelings, but details of my life are present too. That said, it’s the feelings I want to explore. When life feels difficult and I feel I have a mountain to climb, it does me good to go back and read about how I’ve faced obstacles before. They often felt insurmountable, and yet they never were. It reminds me that I’ll get through the latest crisis, because I always do.

Our memories are precisely that. They are ours. Of course, they interact constantly with the memories of others who might have shared an experience with us, but they are unique. I’m sure you will have talked about events with others only to find that their memory of it will differ from yours. It might be little details that differ, or it may be something significant. It doesn’t make your memory, or theirs, any less real. I think that we remember what we need to remember. Memories somehow feed a need in us. They help us navigate our way through life, making sense of what we’ve experienced and what we’ve learnt from it. At least, that’s how it seems to me.

I had a vivid dream just the other day, in which I returned to my childhood home. I walked through it all in a trance, remembering where each room was located, observing them in turn. It felt so real and, yet, I have no doubt that much of it will be mis-remembered. Does it matter? I’m not sure it does. I suppose it depends on the purpose a memory must serve. If you need the detail to be accurate, well, you could be on dodgy ground. But if you’re looking to make sense of your world, then I think you’re on safer territory. Suffice it to say, memories should come with a health warning: this may be true but, on the other hand, may not. Better then to say, this is my truth.

I know for a fact that if you put me and my siblings in a room and asked us to tell you about my father, we would all have some shared memories and some that were widely disparate and, inevitably, contradictory. That’s perfectly normal, isn’t it? It would be impossible for it to be otherwise, because we’re all very different people and so was my dad. He was not the same father to any of us. I think that’s pretty standard too. That’s the joy of relationships: we interact with each other in unique ways, responding to the different personalities we’re faced with.

In this week’s poem, I reflect on my memories of my father, who died in 2020. His ashes were split following his cremation, and I was given a small container, about the size of a can of Pepsi. We all chose to do very different things with the ashes we were given. I decided I would scatter my dad’s ashes, in a place where he’d loved to walk. Hiking was something we had both enjoyed and, over the years, I walked with him often. I know he loved Stoodley Pike, but I honestly don’t recall if we ever walked it together. I willed myself to remember as I took his ashes up there, but I couldn’t. Deep down, I knew it wasn’t important.

There are so many poems about loss and how loved ones stay with us beyond death, kept alive through our memories of them. That’s hardly surprising, given how universal an experience bereavement is. It’s a good reminder, if ever one was needed, that even if we can’t always trust our memories, we can invariably take comfort in them and know they speak our truths. Most life events are pretty universal, but it’s our memories that make us who we are.

Stoodley Pike Download
23/09/2026
Why it’s good to be spontaneous …
```
"... quiet the trees stand
like cathedral pillars
leaves drunk on sunlight 
arch neon green above ..."
```
They say opposites attract and, in my experience, this is true. I am a lark, a home-bird and an introvert. I’m happily married to a night owl, an adventurer and an (albeit mild) extrovert. He has introvert tendencies too, but you get my point I’m sure.

I’m a serial planner, mapping out my days. I live my life by lists. It largely works for me, although I acknowledge its limitations. To live like this can be too regimented and close doors that would have opened to you if you’d only given them the slightest push.

Luckily for me, my husband will help me push through an opening I would have otherwise ignored. This week’s poem is about such a time, when I would have stayed home to complete something on my to-do list. Looking back now, I can’t remember what it was I was so keen to do, which speaks volumes. Whatever chore it was, it wasn’t important was it?

To instead venture out on a glorious summer afternoon, to pick blackberries, proved to be a rewarding experience on so many levels. I wonder now, if it was the spontaneity that made the afternoon so special. It does us all good, I think, to be impulsive at times. To do something we wouldn’t normally do. To leave our comfort zone and venture into the unknown and uncertain. I appreciated the outdoors so much more that day because I came to it fresh. It was an unexpected pleasure to be out in nature when I had planned to stay home.

To do something spontaneous can awaken your senses and bring fresh insight. Just when you thought you knew yourself, you might suddenly discover a new skill or passion. I have a friend who joined me on a walk last summer, with a group intent on swimming as well as walking. She told me from the outset that she hadn’t brought a swimsuit because she had no intention of going for a swim. Fair enough. But when she later observed us all getting ready to swim, she was tempted into the water, borrowing a spare swimsuit from someone who’d pack two. She loved it, and has been a staunch cold water swimmer ever since. She took the plunge, in more ways that one!

What I remember in particular about that afternoon blackberry picking was how it took me back to childhood memories, whilst also filling me with gratitude for the present. There I was, stood shoulder to shoulder, with my happy-go-lucky husband, both of us fully engaged in the task of fruit picking. It felt such a privilege to be alive in that moment, part of a glorious landscape, and part of each other’s lives in a way we often take for granted. It was, for me, a simple pleasure of profound significance, because it reminded me of all I have in my life. I came away with more than the blackberries in my Tupperware box.

You don’t have to do much to welcome in fresh insights. I wonder how many of you always sit in the same seat at the dining table at home, or opt every day for the same desk in a so-called hot-desk office? Perhaps you read a certain genre of fiction, shop for clothes from the same few stores or frequent a particular coffee shop chain. Why not try something different? Who knows, it may completely change your perspective? You may discover something about yourself that you had either forgotten or never knew. Have a go!

blackberry picking Download
02/09/2026
Why I believe in everyday miracles …
```
"... people can spend whole lives
planning for paradise 
not realising 
it’s already here ..."
```
It may feel incongruous to feature a poem in the midst of summer that was clearly written in the depths of winter. I don’t know about you, but when you turn on the news and hear about a very public suicide, then it feels appropriate to talk of dark days. I knew nothing at all about Jason Arday, only becoming aware of him as a result of the recent controversy over his professorship. But it almost doesn’t matter. Whatever the truth behind this story, the simple fact is that someone felt so bleak, that the only way out was to take their life. That’s incredibly sad.

I feel sure that everyone reading this will have faced difficult times in their lives. It’s impossible, isn’t it, to know what people are going through at any given time? It’s hard enough to understand ourselves, let alone appreciate the complexities of others’ thoughts and feelings. But we can feel empathy and I imagine most of us will have felt sad to hear the news of this untimely death, regardless of what you may think about the reasons behind it.

For some, it may have been triggering. If you have lost someone you love to suicide, perhaps it brought it all back. Perhaps you have felt suicidal yourself at times, but here you still are. I’m glad you’re here. Whatever it is that keeps you going, honour it. It’s so easy to take the things we love and value most for granted; it’s sobering that it takes a tragedy for us to appreciate, once again, just how precious life is.

I wrote this poem in the midst of a long winter. I normally love the wintertime, but must have been feeling particularly low that year, for reasons that are no longer important. I went out for a walk and, as is so often the case, nature worked its magic. I knew, despite everything around me appearing dead, that life was going on under the surface. Everything was preparing for spring even in the heart of winter. It reminded me of the impermanence of everything. The fact that nothing stays the same, can feel overwhelming at times but, equally, can feel reassuring. There are nearly always at least two sides to every situation. Think of it like two sides of a coin; when life feels bleak, flip the coin if you can, and consider a different perspective.

I’m not saying it’s always easy. Life’s complicated and often hard. I know that. Yet, it’s equally true to say that we’re all stronger than we think. We have huge capacity to love, to change and to grow. We really do.

I was thinking today, as I was out riding my bike, that when your legs are tired and the road ahead feels daunting, it may be tempting to stop. But if you stop on an incline, then starting again is much more challenging. You can choose to drop to a lower gear, and keep pedalling. Instead of looking at the road ahead, you can look to the left or the right, admiring the beautiful scenery. Before you know it, you’ve made it to the top of the hill. There is always a choice, no matter what.

My hope for all of us is that we treat ourselves and others with kindness. I am not a religious person, but I do believe in miracles. They happen all the time! In the random acts of kindness we experience: when someone finds something you have lost and hands it in (like my handbag once in Sweden, containing my cash and passport); when a friend sends you a card through the post that you weren’t expecting; or when someone asks you how you are and stops to listen to your answer. Nature shows us how a tiny acorn can grow into a mighty oak. Just think what we could do if we tried, for ourselves and those we love; isn’t it worth a go?

miracle Download
19/08/2026
Why frost warms my heart …
```
"... if we were kind 
and wise like trees 
what thaws might we unleash 
imagine the power 
of a stranger’s smile 
the touch of a hand 
warm on weary skin ..." 
```
There are a whole range of reasons why this poem felt like the right one to share this week. Is it just me, or does it feel like the world is imploding right now? I have to brace myself every time I listen to the news and, equally, have to brace myself against the storms every time I venture outside. In some ways, the weather offers up a sense of perspective. As is so often the way with nature, it reminds me that we’re not in charge. The world will keep on turning despite all our efforts to seemingly press the self-destruct button. I think it’s a good metaphor; we do seem hell bent sometimes on destruction, but mostly we are damaging ourselves. The world is stronger than we think; nature is resilient. Despite the damage we’ve done to the planet, (let’s be honest, climate change is happening), nature has an amazing way of bouncing back. Rewilding projects are demonstrating, the world over, that nature can and will recover if we can just learn to let it.

The podcast phenomenon, Mel Robbins, has coined the phrase let them, in an effort to encourage people to let go and let be. It’s so obvious when you think about it, but then it’s often the simplest things that we forget.

I’m trying to adopt the practice of letting go of the 24 hour news culture. I try, within reason, to keep abreast of current affairs, but frankly, it changes so fast, I can’t keep up. Questions such as: who is switching political parties, who wants to take over what country, what tariffs are threatened today … it’s exhausting and debilitating. Much of it feels like wasted effort when, within hours, the situation changes and the news frenzy starts all over again.

What I need to stay sane is balance. Having listened to the Monday morning offerings of chaos and carnage on Radio 4’s Today programme, it’s refreshing to listen to 15 minutes of Cafe Hope. This weekly programme focuses on good news stories from across Britain, which does what it says on the tin. For me anyway, it offers up hope. Whilst, again, it may seem obvious, it’s good to be reminded that the majority of people are decent, honest and kind hearted. People genuinely do care and will go to incredible lengths to help others; I love that and feel grateful for it.

I wrote this poem during a cold spell of winter a few years ago. It felt joyous to be outside in the crisp, cold air, wrapped up in winter woollies. Whilst it was tempting to walk at pace, in an effort to stay warm, the calming effect of the white, frosty landscape, slowed me down. There’s something about snow and frost that settles me; I want to stop and honour the serenity of the scene, soak up the silence and bask in the wonder of how everything looks so fresh and new. It prompts me to review my own sense of self, to allow a shift of perspective, to believe that I too can respond to changing circumstance. I don’t have to stay stuck in whatever mood, decision or state I find myself in. I can adapt.

What’s more, I don’t have to do it alone. On the day this poem was born, I was scrabbling around in the woods, trying to capture images of the hoar frost with my phone. It was then I noticed under the shelter of the trees, that the ground was softer, and frost free. Plants were emerging despite the cold spell. It seemed such a small thing but it made me smile.

It only takes small things to make a huge difference doesn’t it? None of us have to do this alone, we have each other; an encouraging word might be all you need to keep going on days it is particularly tough. I’m sure we can all think of examples of when a small kindness has meant the world. In the current climate, when so much feels bleak, it’s good to remember that there are pockets of real and virtual shelter everywhere, where we can all find hope and the means to thrive.

hoar frost Download
04/02/2026
How anxiety can be both a blessing and a curse …
```
"... be kind to yourself and others 
listen to your voice
and know that
others' expectations of you
will never surpass your own 
no one else can fill 
the space you fill
anxiety has been 
and remains part of you
but so too joy ..."
```
This is not an easy poem to share or reflect on, but came at a time when I was feeling particularly anxious. These times fluctuate and, like most people, I can go for days, weeks, months, when everything appears to be going well, and I feel confident and capable. Most people I worked with would be surprised to hear me say that I often felt anxious about work: mostly about my workload and my ability to juggle it. But I also had doubts about my ability to meet expectations, to be good enough, and to make a positive difference.

People talk about imposter syndrome, which in the old days, was akin to having an inferiority complex. It doesn’t matter what you call it, I think a lot of people feel it at some time or another, and it often follows them, like a shadow, most of their lives. I know I’ve suffered from it most of my life, but that’s only one source of anxiety and there are many others.

I don’t come across as an anxious person. Most people would say that I present as confident, authoritative even. I’m one of those people that looks, on the surface, to be calm like a swan, but below the surface, I’m pedalling like crazy (which swans also do, I believe!). I’ll overthink things and take it all terribly seriously. I need to lighten up and I do try, honestly I do. I know full well that almost all the stuff I worry about never happens, and if the worse does happen, it invariably works out; all that worry was wasted effort.

People joke about therapy and how the counsellor will inevitably take you back to your childhood. It all stems from there right? I didn’t have a miserable childhood by any stretch of the imagination but it wasn’t idyllic either. Was anyone’s? My parents divorced in the 1970’s, which was unusual then. I spent years insisting that it didn’t affect me but, of course, it did.

So much of our personality is set in those early years, and they can significantly shape how life turns out. But it isn’t the whole story. I’m a massive believer in the fact that each of us can shape and shift our lives to fit better with who and what we want to be. I genuinely believe that. It takes work, but it’s a worthwhile investment because who wants to spend their lives blaming their childhood for everything that goes wrong? Not me, that’s for sure.

I haven’t eliminated anxiety from my life, far from it. I tell people that if I didn’t have something to worry about, then I’d invent something. I’m part joking, but there is an element of hard truth in every joke isn’t there? I have a tendency to worry about things I can’t control and/or predict, especially at night. Being conscious of it is half the battle; acknowledging that, yes, childhood hang ups do loiter, but I have effective strategies to combat them.

All our lives are a balancing act, don’t you think? Feeling anxious can sometimes be debilitating, but in other ways it makes me appreciate the joy I experience in my life. Learning to recognise and overcome anxieties can also be incredibly rewarding and I can look back on many a triumph with quiet pride. Balance is all important and, if you experience anxiety, then I sincerely hope you also know joy in your life.

notes to my younger self Download
03/12/2025