Some lifetimes ago, a sixteen year old version of me failed to get the place in art school that she'd pinned all her early hopes to. Dismissed by the grown ups who'd repeatedly explained: 'being an artist isn't realistic' led to years floating adrift from my calling. (They were wrong. And this isn't what I do, I've come to realise, it's what I am)
Yesterday I went to the funeral of the mother of an old friend. I don't see him much these days, our lives distanced in different directions, but as a teenager I spent some time hanging out at his house and with his family, so I went along to say hello/goodbye. The last time we saw each … Continue reading hello/goodbye
Today is April 8th.Today is marks the point, exactly three quarters of of my life ago. The day my dad died.I was sitting on the rocking chair, the chair I still have today. It used to face the front door. I was sat there when my mum walked in and told me the news. He'd been … Continue reading Today is April 8th. Today I remember.