Thursday, 23 June 2022

Christmas in negative

 It was the night before,

Christmas in negative,

Panic buying,



Except lights will sparkle 

For the few,

We’re buying pasta 

Baked beans and toilet roll

Not chocolate and booze

There will be no 

Overheated living rooms

Full of too many aunties

And forgotten uncles,

Just us holed up with our thoughts.

Thursday, 10 March 2022

The Dullest Fight

Some days of The Plague were dull.

I suspect I had the sicknesses, on some days I would struggle to talk through a sentence without coughing, this was hard for someone who talks like a machine gun and hardly takes a breath. In the worst of the sickness I would just sleep, people talked of “fighting” Covid 19 but is wasn’t that interesting, all you can do is sleep. The fevers were extreme and sometimes trippy, visions came and went and I was pinned to a bed. Breathing was part blocked by what felt like candy floss in my lungs, the dry coughs never seemed to get rid of the alien substances. Odd symptoms came and went, dizzy spells, loss of taste and smell, strange toilet problems, recovery was slow, boring and came in spurts.  My lungs felt disabled, I played mind games with myself to keep breathing slowly so I didn’t panic. I lied on the phone when my loved  ones asked, I was falsely cheerful but inside I panicked, I had to be strong.

I tried to ring the doctor a few times but these seemed little point, the robotic voice told me only to ring if it was an emergency. I felt utterly let down by the state, The Plague had come and they weren’t really there.

I stayed on my house for 2 weeks. The views outside started to feel like moving paintings I was no longer part of. There were occasional, eerily empty busses going past, people  jogged past or had socially distant conversations, I wondered what they were talking about. I wanted community back, I missed everyone, my close friends, my gossip mates and even the people I only tolerated.

On sunny days when I felt better painted pictures on the balcony, I painted the sea, my favourite place, these were hours of fun in a boring time, mixing pretty shades and struggling with cheap paintbrushes was something to concentrate on. I was pleased with myself when I started to use kitchen sponges, make up blenders and a spare toothbrush, they bought better results.

I became dependent on an ever shrinking bubble, my teenage son made me drinks, my boyfriend bought food. We had stained conversations in the corridor, I was incredibly happy  to see his face and feel his presence and incredibly glad to have someone I trusted and knew our tastes in food so he always bought us the right shopping.

The 14 days needed, I ventured out for my state sanctioned walks again, I was used to stomping around the world without any problems but now I felt a little fragile, a bit breathless but getting better. Covid 19 could have been a lot worse.

Wednesday, 30 December 2020

Mum's Moan Net



My son looked at his Christmas dinner as if the dog had just vomited it up. I was willing to let him eat fish fingers and jam (he has Avoidant Restrictive Eating Disorder, diagnosed last year) but hubby just screamed at him. (He was a bit drunk, night out with the lads last night and whisky with his breakfast, and all day (he's always fancied himself as a rock star.) My son fired his new Nerf gun and it hit him in the eye so my husband chucked his new, full size football at his head. My son started crying so his teenage sister started shouting and hurled a bottle of perfume at hubby. (She's team captain of her school netball team, proud mummy). 

Christmas is ruined, everyone is shouting and I'm close to a breakdown. They're all still shouting at each other, what do I do?


Your husband needs hanging in the park, we need to get some girl power going and lynch him. You should be very proud of your feisty kids. Stay strong mamma bear.


Bless, this is as typical as undercooking the turkey and everyone going to A+E, pretty much a yearly event in our house. they'll tire themselves out eventually. If they break all their gifts so what, their problem.


Thank you, Perfect 50's Housewife, I tried leaving them to it but everything has just got worse.  They are now recreating "The Hunger Games". Son and teenage daughter have got the living room while hubby has the kitchen. She's now defending the door with various perfumes, sports equipment and her new (very expensive and on) hair straighteners. Of course my husband has all the knifes and the confiscated Nerf Gun. He's now stood at the door eating chocolate, gloating while son and teenage daughter are planning their next move. to "win" the kitchen. He's also drinking out of a huge bottle of whisky, I tried talking to him about it but he keeps shouting "I can't let those little shits win!"

 I've tried to talk to both sides and treat them equally but it's become a matter of principle I don't think the whisky is helping.


Your kids need more weapons, have you got any high heels you can give the kids, and don't forget toy cars and leggo....Give your pissed up hubby what he deserves. 


Your house sounds so lively, what a spirted bunch. Can I come round for a drink?


Take a tip from your hubby, get some whisky down you and join in, you can't beat them, thanks for the lols!


The kids are now setting up traps with leggo, toy cars, and sports equipment. My hubby is looking terrible, it sounds awful but I'll be happy when he passes out and the kids have "won".  The funny thing is he's just not passing out, how is he doing it.


Is he just on the whiskey? 


yes, he just likes the booze, we have no secrets in this house. Too much booze though.

Oh my god, my daughter is a good aim.......


He's bleeding, she threw a bottle of foundation at his nose and it's gushing out. I'm going to have to get the tampons.


This is going too far, do you think you should call the police now?


We have a good reputation, what would the neighbors think? We'll sort it out ourselves.


What the hell is this!


Sending hugs babe, call the police, that shit shouldn't be around kids. By the way it looks like Cocaine


Well I wasn't expecting that, too much for me, I'm getting back to the Gin.


This is really bad, my daughter just answered her phone and screamed., her best friend is dead, it was a Coke induced heart attack. My daughter started screaming at her dad, I mean really screaming...I tried calming her down but she called me a "blind bitch". Her brother is crying his eyes out, he's holding on to me, at least one of my kids still loves me.

Hubby started screaming "how the fuck do you think I was making all that money, look at all this fucking stuff, you're a bunch of spoilt brats..."


Get out love, my ex was a dealer, they're all scum.


You poor things, good luck, sending massive hugs.


Hubby has gone "for a walk", he can stay out, preferably forever.

My daughter knew everything, he's been dealing to her friends for months. She was terrified for her best friend, she was taking the stuff everyday, she was 16, lovely girl, she got good grades and had a great family, now she's gone. What's worse is daughter had a secret Facebook account full of pictures of her dad partying with her friends. My daughter is rightly embarrassed and furious. He wasn't out with the lads last night, he was at a teenage house party with the popular kids from my daughters school, he was dancing and flirting. No wonder my daughter stopped going out a few months ago. 

I'm absolutely gutted, my perfect family was a mess. How could I not see the signs? I feel like an idiot. My husband helped kill my daughters best friend and I thought he was a brilliant family man...

I'm going to go to my sisters house.....


Well done, you know what babe I've been there, these men are the best liars, they're always flogging drugs for you. It's not your fault, he sold those drugs and lied, it's that simple


Well done, it's the right thing to do, we're here for you.


Well we found hubby, he was hanging form a tree at the end of the road. There was a suicide note in a Christmas card. Here's what it said..

Dear Family

I spoilt you all this year but the best gift will be the fact I've gone.

I'm was living a stupid dream powered by Cocaine. 


He was swinging off the tree, the Christmas jumper and novelty hat just made the scene look surreal. I couldn't face calling the police or checking if he was dead so I got the kids into the card and drove to my sisters house. 

I was living a dream too, the Instagram pictures, the smug Facebook messages and even my silly name here were all lies. All that stuff I showed you on Instagram has been bought with debt and Cocaine. I wasn't just putting a filter on my pictures I put a glowing filter on my thoughts.


Big hugs babe, I'll DM you with my number. You're not living a lie now. I'm sure you will miss your  hubby but at least you can start again. A bad truth is better than a shinny lie.


 Start again without him.


Thanks so much ladies. 

I'm still in shock, I guess feelings will come later.

This place is poison. On Instagram I didn't just lie to my audience but myself. My hubby was a good looking man, I scrub up well and my kids are of course beautiful. We had everything we could want. The stuff just turned into weapons' because my daughter knew everything, she didn't want stuff, she wanted parents. 

If you follow me on Instagram I'm so sorry.

Thanks, especially to "PizzaandChips"

Happy New Year.



Monday, 14 September 2020

The Monkey

Is your brain an ordered library with a strict librarian in control? or is it more like a zoo full of escaped animals. If my mind was a library the stern, smartly dressed librarian is hiding under a table and various, strange creatures are roaring and shouting and ruining my day. The creatures make me feel different form well dressed, together women, I'm simply a different breed. I'm a little fidgety, a bit immature and very random. 

The boss of the animals that rampage around my brain is the monkey. It  runs around my brain causing chaos. This money is only about a foot tall but it can be everywhere at once, it tells my brain I don't need  sleep, the monkey wants chocolate, social media, to fidget with everything and wants to tell everyone what I really think of them all at once and sod the consequences. The monkey wants love from social media but can't be bothered to call my real friends, it wants trainers, it wants shiny things and no amount of anything is ever enough.

You would have a guess a monkey is in control, I blank out, change the subject in confusing ways, fidget and I never look like I'm listening. The grown up me can shut the monkey up and The Librarian can crawl out form under the table to keep the animals in order and I can behave like a normal grown up. 

At other times The Monkey gets determined, it sees I want to improve but it hisses at me "If you cage me, you cage yourself". It takes over and messes up anything I try to do, it forgets things, it distracts me from the easiest task, it loses jobs, keys and my self esteem soon disappears as well as my dreams.

This Monkey is childish, it's a pest, but it has endless ideas and energy. This creature runs around the library of my brain getting a book from here, a page from there ideas get together in new ways. The Monkey thinks up random solutions to normal issues. This creature is brave, it jumps in cold seas because it seems like a good idea, it wants me to fly down hills on my bike a little too fast. it talks to people because it's hyper curiosity trumps shyness. Some even find the monkey charming, it's certainly funny, it makes connections, it says the truth in twisted ways. 

On a good day the monkey dreams up a crazy blog or tells me taking a picture of a building site and the edit it with trippy colors is a good idea, it tells me to not take a pretty selfie but one in a creepy mask, the monkey can even help me at work when I need to deal with four things at once with a smile. The monkey gives me guts and energy, the monkey makes me quirky and fun. 

So is the monkey an emery and a friend? The Monkey is not good for anyone's self esteem but it's fun, it's creative, it makes people with ADHD fun and unique. The problem is life is tough with a wild monkey running around my head...

Friday, 12 June 2020


I bomb into town on my bike, first I ride through the park. It’s a cool, early summer afternoon, families are out playing football, kids are learning to ride bikes, and the air is clear. The only that that’s strange is the swings and roundabouts are untouched even though there are children who would love to use them. Groups of people stand an abnormal distance apart talking about the sickness.

Birdsong, the homeless and the occasional ambulance are the loudest noises. We no longer walk in couples or tribes: we walk alone. People are ghosts, no longer connected to or jobs or each other, we are in a new world that doesn't work the way it used to. There are new, petty seeming, bizarre rules to protect us from disease in a world that looks oddly clean.

Clothes shop windows are stuck, they display spring coats and jeans, not summer swimwear and shorts. Many windows are blank with their glittering prizes packed away. No one sits in cafes sipping overpriced coffee complaining about their children’s antics, analyzing their boss or congratulating each other on small achievements, people only talk through the safety of screens or on the phone, this is slightly inhuman and a little less connected  than before. Some lonely ghosts swig furiously from bottles of booze, they have nothing else to do and no reason not to be drunk, as the scaffolding of people’s lives has gone.

A lost tribe of the homeless stick out, they argue loudly and carry on as normal. These people were always there but now nothing drowns them out. They play out high drama and crisis for the few ghosts left to see. These drifters are also a reminder that the world before the virus was troubled and chaotic.

Some people see this vacant town as a new playground. Some make the most of their emptier lives and small privileges by taking up jogging. One lad skateboards through town enjoying the vacant streets that are devoid of endless activity where  new laws and new freedoms can be found. People may walk around like ghosts but the world to some is a new environment.

Black Lives Matter Vigil

June 10 2020

Fun was cancelled thanks to The Virus. It was the year of disappointment. Gigs, festivals and fun would simply have to wait. 

I rode my bike through the High Street towards my boyfriend. The town was mostly full of young protesters, they seemed spirited and with their banners and masks. We poured into the square trying to keep in our germ free bubbles and most people succeeded to a small degree. The speakers were quiet so the crowd repeated what they said by chanting. 

People from the BAME community spoke about their issues, there were lots of shocking statistics about how BAME people are treated by the police. Community leaders from Respect spoke movingly, making us remember that we don't live in a fair society but a reminder people are working extremely hard to change this. 

We all knelt down in honor of George Floyd, it was a somber and moving tribute.  

The atmosphere was charged and serious, partly because of the pictures we had all seen of the way black people have been treated by the American police and partly because of Corona virus. There wasn't the usual background noise of a busy Saturday so our attention was on the speakers and we were out in the pandemic. The masks made a difference too, people couldn't tell if each other were smiling, this made for a slightly strained atmosphere. Rain and cold on a summer afternoon added to the determined feel to the vigil.

Exeter caught the spirit of righteous anger. The year before radicals and people who wanted a better world had fun events as a form of protest and spreading the word, we had Respect festival, a sober but fun day of dancing, choirs, live music and stalls. We had Gay Pride, as day of parade, fun, self expression and drinking with the cause of accepting and understanding everyone. These events are great but this Black Lives Matter Exeter event felt important.

 2020 feels like the year of the disaster with empty streets all over the world and then pictures from America that look like civil war. The world seems a frightening and darker place thanks to shock after shock. Maybe the conditions for big changes are here now, it's up to us if the world gets better or worse.

Monday, 18 May 2020


She sat alone, her six-year old hands touched the warm tarmac, they felt the tiny stones, she looked up at the scattered white clouds and bright blue in between, she heard the other children and this is all she needed. She could feel every bump of the tarmac, she could enjoy every shape of the clouds.The colours and materials all around gave her a joy that the other girls and boys gained from running around, gossiping and praise from teachers.

The other girls tried to be kind, when they got no response they tried to be mean but neither would make her speak: the girl knew exactly what the others were saying it’s just the rest of the world was more interesting. Sometimes the girl would listen to the kids playing but she never thought to join them, the chatter was too much. The girl was delighted when the others gave up and left her to enjoy the world.

A sharp, piercing noise broke through her perfection, it was the bell:  her stomach churned at the thought of another human’s words, rattling chairs and being made to talk. The teacher let the girl sit at the back of the class with a kindly assistant who tried to help. She would speak in soft, sing song tones but the girl would be too busy staring at a perfect shade of green on a painting. Eye contact meant nothing, cuddles bought screams, and words were frightening.

At the end of the school her mum walked over to the painted square her daughter always stood in. The paint was fading like The Plague. The other kids happily burst out of their germ free bubbles but her daughter seemed to stay.

Mum dodged the stares and pitying smiles from the other parents. Again her daughter refused to hold her mum's hand. She remembered her daughter as a baby, she was born with symptoms  everyone feared this big-eyed infant and no one would touch her. The day her daughter stopped crying was the day her mum couldn’t stop weeping, mum realized her daughter was now a victim of The Plague forever.