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Showing posts from February, 2015

I'm writing a book.

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Four words that are quite simply designed to put the person on the receiving end of this statement to sleep. Watch them shift uneasily as their eye's glaze over. If they are loyal friends or loving family they will give you an encouraging smile. Don't however mistake this for interest or an overwhelming curiosity so that you rush into breathlessly giving them a rapid taster of your work in progress.

I know for a fact that were I to announce 'I'm painting a picture' then a beam of approval would be forthcoming. 'How interesting, exciting, amazing, fulfilling' may be a few responses. A few more spring to mind. 'I'm having a baby', 'I'm renovating a house', 'I'm swimming the Channel, 'I'm having an affair'. See what I mean ? you're far more likely to engage me in further conversation. Everyone is writing a book, how can they not be ? everyone has a story to tell quite probably involving having a baby, renovating…

Sally's Lent.

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 'Lent is traditionally described as lasting for forty days, in commemoration of the forty days which, according to the Gospels of Mathew, Mark and Luke Jesus spent, before beginning his public ministry fasting in the desert, where he endured temptation by the Devil'

I made some rather scrumptious pancakes last night even though I say so myself, I tossed one quite high much to the amusement of the recipient.   Pancake Day or Shrove Tuesday is of course the chance to feast and party before the beginning of the 40 days of Lent commences on Ash Wednesday. It is observed all over the world whether it be street parties in Trinidad,  Cajun Mardi Gras or dancing with the devil in Bolivia.  A time, (supposedly) when we 'give up' something that perhaps for the rest of the year we indulge in. A period in which to nurture your spiritual growth.

I tentatively asked a selection of people what they would be personally foregoing for 40 days. 'Nothing' they replied, 'what…

Walk to Broadchurch, Dorset.

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My interest was immediately piqued when I saw this chap standing alone. There was something about the way he held himself, the casual aloofness, the confident manner as he nonchalantly ignored my presence even though I crept quite close to see if I could arouse his interest. Even though he was a mere cock, albeit a rather fine one,  I couldn't help but compare him to people that I know and to secretly admire his independence.

There is something suspicious, in my opinion, of people who cannot bear to be alone. Not the awfulness of and soul destroying feeling of loneliness. Indeed there is an achingly painful divide between feeling loneliness and contemplative solitude, but people relishing their own company and being content without the need of constant distraction and amusement have my admiration. 


I don my wellies and prepare for a muddy trek. Oh how I have missed my mud, the biting cold wind that cuts you to the quick, the starkness and brutality of the trees branches against …