Friendship proposal #vanity #vhs #ourtime #ourturn

OK.  Here’s the vanity version of my friendship proposal, with my red face (not how I feel; just what spiced-up food, chocolate, and most of the things I love eating do to me) a tad toned down.  Hey, if yous younger souls can be vain, why not us older folk too? 

The filter defo from my time, mind!  VHS!!! Yay …

Uncategorized, trails of thought

Freedom is a grand, indivisible, feeling

Been a long time coming, and yesterday I was being driven literally mad by the Lord knows who.  But I guess every iCloud has a silver lining, and even people who use tech against you might collaterally be allowing you to help yourself.

So.  I am 25 again, and suddenly able to carve out a life where love and hugs form a part of what I do, not just of what I write about.

And it would appear that even as this is agreed, kindness and gentleness may win out over rancour and too much pain.  The latter I hope, anyway.

My freedom to love, to live, to be, to see another and hold another and caress another and embrace another is finally conceded.  And whilst I must now find someone to enjoy life with – and I have absolutely no idea who or where or, indeed, why they might ever care to choose to be with me – the search can, now just as equally, at least, at last, begin.

poetry, trails of thought

Imagine a world, where nothing 

Imagine a world, where nothing.

Imagine a world, where something.

Imagine a world, where anything.

Imagine a world, where everything 

You thought 

Was just your thought and imagining.

And so – just as justly – 

You were able to reclaim

A responsibility total

For every crime and blame, and heinous

Same that punished your daily rail.

And so imagine this world.

And so imagine it true.

For that is where you and I 

Do reside

Hurt and tailed.

And dogg-

ed. man is man 

Now dogged, for decades and more

By the sore reality


Of quite foolish vanity –

Or mebbe, serious alternately, 

A cruelty beyond measure.


Revolution [at the Albert Dock, Liverpool]

I ended up in Revolution after a gently frustrating day writing my dissertation.  I managed almost 1000 words by 1pm in the beautiful Picton Reading Room in Liverpool’s Central Library, but then some friends rather rashly played some fairly useless practical jokes on me.  So I decided to reward myself for surviving their onslaught with a meal.

Revolution is a great place for drink – more shots than a doctor’s surgery I imagine – but what I never realised is that its food is helpfully left-field too.  A twist on almost everything.  Chicken strips are chicken strips, after all; but bathed in buttermilk and then fried to a golden crisp … well, you can sense where I am going with this.

I had the superfood salad, and though these are lately the vogue, it was a highly respectable and flavoursome combination of tastes and textures.  In the end, I had the dessert too: my gorgeous, friendly, thoughtful, responsive waitress Ashleigh snuck out a sufficiently moist and never overly sweet carrot cake from a part of the menu she clearly had privileged access to!

Ashleigh helped drive the pleasure of the evening.  It’s good to be in the presence of a born communicator, whatever the transaction.  She was approachable, amusing, professional and helpful.  She was a credit to the wider organisation operating that evening: the delivery was quick; the food freshly prepared; the coffee correct; and the final apple shot a treat.

But most of all in her Cambridge lilt, the wonderfully fruity Camden pale ale I drank, and the voices of tourists visiting from near and far, we get a sense of Liverpool’s own historical virtues too: cultural inclusion; breadth of vision; and a pure and simple enjoyment of the kinder things in life.



C? Ain’t I learning?!

I feel really pleased with myself.  I jumped to the wrongest of conclusions this afternoon, after which I decided to reward myself with a nice meal on thinking something was true when it wasn’t.  But then, after being a bit down, I chose to reward myself all the same: and this time, with a nice meal and dessert.  And a fab Camden pale ale.  Dead fruity and downed in practically one.

Ain’t I learning finally?!


poetry, trails of thought

“U think I C ill, dear RED – do you really?”

U think I C ill, dear red,

but what I C is everything

there is

for anyone

to C,

if anyone is

of the mind to remind

themselves of truth in its entirety.

U, meanwhile, C only surfaces of happy flat,

which result in

pleasantness and fun and the running of

young child in that wilful ignorance of wild.


And if U R out to convince me I C only ill,

let me inform U I not only see

the very best stuff


this tough rock has to offer,

I am able – quite despite the horrors

U choose to ignore,

and refuse to con-

template – to enjoy the diamond amongst the


est of (delibe{rat[ed.]}) cruelties.


And when U enjoy your world,

and ask me Y not,

UR fearless loving is hardly brave conduct

on UR part, in the

least of petite strate-

gems U do seriously insist on

calling me out for:

and it seems to me,

in further serious honesty,

U do seem

to prefer

to treat life as a ball-game of highs,

when in truth

the most joyful people I know

have had the grandest of times

as, simultaneous-

like, they know all too well its lows.


So don’t question my capacity to have fun:

question, instead,

your inability to run with the truth –

and still come out on top;

that top I right do,


all the fro

and to;


all the come

and pretty go which, curious-

like, U eject like seat

of wind-up show.



Back where I started, but IS OK!

You have to put on a brave face

when the crazy who help are crazier than

the you who, after all, after all, they think you [b].


You have to put on a saved face

when the savers who [w]help

are out to [c]rave you from the stuff


you always loved.


And you have to put on a gentle face

when, inside, you cried so much,

and the desperation you now feel and sense


and reel in, like compliments fished

sadly from the treasure chest

of memories so old …:


well, all those loves you never glad-

[d]ed., and always wondered exact how

badly was the you they ignored fab-


ly …



… for you to deserve such a sad


this [one].