Landscape Painter, Life Writer, occasional Nomad in perpetual pursuit of a dream
I thought it was time to park this here, now I’m getting ready to run away; an essay I wrote last year. PRIDE OF PLACE ‘You’re not from here!’ It is neither statement nor question. It is an accusation: I am an imposter, a fraud. A huge disappointment. Depending how gracious I feel, I might …
Two things need to happen each day to ensure I’m functioning fully as a responsible adult. Firstly, and before leaving the house: tea. Then later, preferably mid-morning, one perfect coffee, which acts as breakfast. If it’s not perfect, I might need to have another one, but this will be disappointing (and costly) on all fronts. …
Back in the mists of time, a fellow traveller asked me if there was any particular country from which I had difficulty dragging myself away. One that I was simply gutted to leave? I am sure I must have answered, everywhere. Because who doesn’t wish they could extend their holiday by even a few days, …
Rummaging in a box of photos, I find one I’ve forgotten. Three figures sit on a rock at the summit of a Lakeland peak; is it Langdale Pike or Bowfell? I was dragged up most of them at some point in my childhood, protesting every minute of the uphill slog; absorbing the view from the …
Today I tried a little experiment. I shared a post on Facebook. Something important, (one could argue, vital), about which I feel very strongly. I have nearly five hundred ‘followers’ on social media, nearly all are actual friends or known acquaintances; linked to me, supposedly, by shared values, experiences or interests. I sincerely doubt that …
This month’s update was going to be a joyful one about how I managed to finish my final, main writing assignment of 15,000 words, a month early, and am about to submit it, thus completing my MA. The piece forms the ending of my memoir, which is, of course, about my time in Morocco. This …
Sometimes you just need a wee treat. Taking a break from my current memoir-writing immersion – I’m into the final furlong now, and have nearly completed the first draft of my 15,000 words submission, the last assignment of my Masters – I grabbed a music-loving pal and made my second visit to the Rewind 80’s …
We sat on the grass verges outside our house in summer, eating clover flowers. Purple or white, they all tasted sweet, though Mum was concerned: ‘A dog may have peed on them!’ she’d proclaim. She never stopped us, though. We’d make daisy chains, as well, late into the evening, our tiny fingernails making slits the …
The sun is out, the sea is calm and primroses nestle beneath the birches: it’s that time of year again. So why am I not on my kayak on a beautiful Sunday? I keep glancing outside, and I will get there, but there is a lot of organising to do for my upcoming sketching holidays. …
