Here's the deal. My sister and I have nominated Friday as fag* night or, more alliteratively, Fag Friday because imagination and any soupçon of political correctedness and/or fear of ridicule went out the window with coronavirus. By doing this just once last week, we've now created a whole tradition that feels as old and inherent… Continue reading Day 12: My level of fear does not correlate to the amount of alcohol I drank
The truth is I've been trying to write this for five minutes but a piece of toenail got stuck in my keyboard. I tried to get it out but in so doing instead aided it in its escape from my newly-manicured fingers so that now its rump is lodged under the '@' key - which,… Continue reading Day 7: Self-Care is not a euphemism for hair removal.
I have spent the past few weeks searching for hope in a global sadness occasioned by Nora Quoirin’s death. Unable to stop thinking of the siblings left behind without a sister, it occurred to me that, too often, it takes tragedy to loosen our lips and become verbose on the subject of love. Too often,… Continue reading Honouring Nora Quoirin with an Ode to Sisterhood
The heartbreak train has been doing the rounds and I've just about had it up to me bleedin' gills with the sadness. Too many lovely people being unceremoniously discarded by significantly less lovely people. Bereft and left to wonder what they did wrong, which of their crippling insecurities over non-existent inadequacies was the straw that… Continue reading Messages from the Bed