Author Archives: coralmccallum

The Big Green Gummi Bear’s Longest Night Out – a tale of a family outing

Posted on June 23, 2014 | 2 comments

Saturday was the longest day of the year and we marked the occasion by actually going out as a family….Please don’t all faint! (If memory serves me correctly the last time we ventured out as a family was to celebrate Boy Child’s birthday last December)

The special occasion that triggered this rare family outing was a summer BBQ at the local boat club where the Big Green Gummi Bear spends most of his time. A slight twist to the tale came earlier in the week when Girl Child asked if she could bring along a friend – her current “Special Friend”. Having caught us in a weak moment both the Big Green Gummi Bear and I said yes.

Cue several hours of preening behind closed bedroom doors before Girl Child emerged looking……well looking like a beautiful young lady instead of her usual rock chick self. When he saw her, a wave of panic washed across the Big Green Gummi Bear’s face.

“Special Friend” duly arrived and politely endured the torture and torment of being introduced to the Big Green Gummi Bear before we all set off to the BBQ. I’ve never seen two teenagers look so awkward, cramped into the back seat of the car, with Boy Child wedged in as chaperone.

A local band had been hired to provide the evening’s musical entertainment and, when we all trooped into the club’s lounge, they were just finishing up their sound check. With drinks in hand, we joined a long table with some friends and sat back to enjoy the evening’s entertainment.

No disrespect to the three musicians but they weren’t exactly aiming for the teenage audience and after a few minutes Girl Child asked if she could go for a walk. Her father said yes but then added, jokingly, that she had to go alone. Special Friend sat frozen in his seat as she trotted off out the door! After a gentle nudge of approval from me, he bolted out after her.

Now the main entertainment for the evening began- Big Green Gummi Bear baiting.

Within five minutes of the two teenagers escaping, he was fretting about where his baby Girl Child had gone. Within fifteen minutes he was twitching and glancing up at the door every few seconds. His friends jumped on the opportunity to make him squirm with suggestions as to what the two teenagers may or may not be up to. When someone dared to suggest that they may be down in the boat sheds enjoying an intimate moment, he almost had heart failure!

In the background the band played on.

We were being “treated” to a set of Rod Stewart and Eagles classic tracks that prompted an impromptu pop quiz among the adults and Boy Child as we tried to guess which song was being attempted. At one point the backing tape programme on the guitarist’s iPad got out of sync and we had a warped Eagles medley playing until he reset it. For me, the highlight of their first half was when they played The Kinks “Sunny Afternoon.” After an epic fail to hit the first high note in the song, the singer just left out all the lyrics that ended on any high notes beyond his range. All that was missing was a few substitute “la la la’s” instead. Priceless!

Food was duly declared ready; the band stopped for a welcome break and the “weans” wandered back in. The Big Green Gummi Bear let out a long sigh of relief.

The legendary Scottish midgies put paid to any ideas of socialising around the BBQ as the various guests grabbed plates of food and darted back indoors before being eaten alive by these pesky beasties.

Before the band had even played a note of the second half of their set Girl Child asked if they could go for another walk. I said yes and they promptly disappeared again. Their timing was impeccable – the Big Green Gummi Bear was at the bar and never saw them leave. Around the table we decided not to tell him until he noticed for himself. Beer in hand, he returned and joined in the mutual appreciation of Neil Diamond (I still have Sweet Caroline stuck in my head) and Monkees numbers. This whole affair was beginning to have the air of couple-less wedding reception.

After about half an hour he realised that Girl Child was AWOL again. Cue panic and a flurry of hand gestures down the length of the table towards me to text or phone or send Boy Child to search for her. His fatherly concern was hysterical, especially when unprompted one of his friends casually remarked that he’d seen them heading round to the secluded garden at the rear of the clubhouse. (They were in fact sitting chatting on a bench slightly further along the road in full view of the clubhouse)

The witching hour finally arrived and it was time for me to escort the teenage contingent home. Eleven o’clock at night and it was still light- love June evenings! Right on time Girl Child and Special Friend returned. The Big Green Gummi Bear sank back into the seat with exhausted relief.

For the Big Green Gummi Bear it had been the longest day, fretting about his daughter’s whereabouts; for Girl Child and Special Friend (and Boy Child who got trapped with the adults) it had been the longest dull day trapped at an “old person’s” party. For me….well I found the whole thing hilarious!

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The Ultimate Playlist – what should or shouldn’t be on it?

Posted on June 16, 2014 | 1 comment

I love it when, out of the blue, you end up involved in one of those conversations that leaves you with tears of laughter running down your cheeks. These usually happen at the most inopportune moments and that’s exactly what happened mid-week at work. Having giggled my way through it, I now can’t remember exactly what innocent comment started it but a colleague and I ended up discussing the music we would like played at our funerals.

Both of us were singing from the same hymn sheet, so to speak, and agreed that funerals shouldn’t be a mourning of the person’s passing but instead be a celebration of their life and reflective of their personality.

My mum secretly wants a New Orleans jazz style funeral. As this was mentioned in conversation, I got my first fit of the giggles as I was struck by an image of Boy Child playing his trumpet at the head of the school jazz band leading the funeral procession through the local streets towards the crematorium playing “When The Saints Come Marching In”. (I later shared this vision with my mum who fortunately saw the humour in it.)

Anyone who knows me will completely understand that the 23rd Psalm and Highland Cathedral aren’t going to feature when my time comes!

I asked my colleague, who is fifteen years my senior, what he wanted played. “Anything by Guns N Roses,” came his instant reply. He quickly added that he wants to be cremated but that his wife has already vetoed “Smoke on the Water” for that part of the service. I lost it! – cue laughter and tears. I promptly suggested “Burn” as an alternative- cue more giggling from both of us! (sorry, work colleagues) Apparently “Another One Bites the Dust” is also off the playlist. His Good Lady Wife is however a huge ACDC fan so he may have a glimmer of hope of playing “Highway To Hell” …. I doubt it though.

I came home from work still smiling at the conversation and asked The Big Green Gummi Bear what he wanted played. “Wake Me Up Before You Go Go,” came his reply. I should be grateful it wasn’t the Goombay Dance Band!

It got me thinking about my own choices and, I’ll be honest, I’m struggling. There’s so much good music to choose from. It would be easy to go down a rather reflective rock route and select “Wonderful Life” or “In Loving Memory” by Alter Bridge or “The Crow and the Butterfly” by Shinedown. While it could be fun to play “Stairway to Heaven” it would be giving the mourners false hope and sending them on a wild goose chase. Chris Rea’s “Road To Hell” takes them in a more likely direction!

Perhaps “One Last Thrill,” by Slash should be played? Or Avenged Sevenfold’s “Requiem”? As I wish to be buried rather than cremated when the time comes, Iron Maiden’s “Fear of the Dark” may also fit the bill. Regardless, the celebration should include Garth Brooks “Friends In Low Places” and culminate in “Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life.”

Now that I’ve got you thinking, hopefully with a smile on your face, what songs would you choose?

 

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The Lasting Impact of One Word……one small word……Beast

Posted on June 9, 2014 | 1 comment

I read an article the other day that was encouraging people to try creative writing to improve brain power. The exercise that the article suggested the reader complete was to list all the names you’ve ever been called- good or bad- then write about one.

This triggered a flood of memories.

There was Razzle Dazzle that my dad used to call me when I was wee.

There was 10cc that a neighbour called me the year I turned ten. My initials then were CC and he was a fan of that particular band.

With a name like Coral, there was the obvious Coral Reef and various other fishy, ocean themed attempts from time to time.

The name however that sent a torrent of painful memories through me; the name that chilled me to my very core even all these years down the line was Beast. The name the school bullies cursed me with.

My mind was suddenly overflowing with flashback memories from my school days. I could hear their feet thundering down the stairs in primary school as they chased me. I could see the faces of the people who taunted me. I could feel their breath on my neck as they yanked my hair from my head to see if I had 666 tattooed on my skull. I could hear their voices filling my head.

Over thirty years later these wounds still run deep and I doubt if some of them will ever be fully healed but one simple word, one name, opened a fair few of them back up.

“Sticks and stones may break your bones but names can never hurt you,” my mother used to council.

She was wrong.

For just shy of six years I endured the school bullies abuse, usually verbal but occasionally physical. I thought naively that when I moved up from primary school to secondary school that my daily torment would stop. I was sadly mistaken. In fact, for more than two years, it was worse as my primary school bullies now had a larger audience and swiftly recruited new blood.

I was almost fifteen before the last chants of “Beast” died away.

By then the damage had been done.

Years later I had the misfortune to encounter one of the boys I had been to school with. He came staggering out of a local pub with several drunken friends, recognised me as I walked down the street on my way home from work and, before I knew what was happening, they were all round me chanting “Beast. Beast. Beast” incessantly. Suddenly I was 12 years old again instead of the 22 that I was. Fortunately my bus came along, the driver recognised me and the ugliness of the situation and, despite it not being a “bus stop”, pulled over and shouted on me to “Get on!” I was never so relieved to see anyone in my life.

The year I turned 40 a school reunion was organised. The thought of attending terrified me but I knew it was my final chance to conquer my fears and lay the ghosts to rest once and for all. I was reasonably in control of my emotions during the run up to the event until I saw one name appear on the list of people who would be attending. The main instigator of my childhood torment was going to be there.

I very nearly changed my mind but the stronger voice within me lectured my quivering self and said I wasn’t going to let the bullies win again.

When the time came I went along to the event in the local rugby club, flanked by two friends, with my stomach heaving with fear and dread. I don’t regret going for one second however I will never attend another reunion. The bully in question arrived after my friends and I were seated with a drink. I watched them greet our former classmates in turn but, when their eyes met mine, the same look of hatred and loathing from more than a quarter of a century before was staring back at me. Some leopards never change their spots. I turned away.

If you’ve been fortunate enough to sail through life and never experienced bullying at first hand then I expect this is difficult to fully comprehend. If you have experienced bullying then I’m sure you understand only too well the emotions that can be stirred by a name. If you have been the bully then I hope that you never have to experience the pain that you put your victims of choice through.

To this day, I don’t know what started it all. I’ve no idea what minor or major thing triggered it all. I’ll never know ……   But it is all symbolised in a name.

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A Mathematical Feline Conundrum

Posted on June 2, 2014 | 2 comments

At six am on Friday morning the alarm went off. Still more asleep than awake I lay back, listening to that bloody cuckoo outside (it starts cuckooing about 4.30am) then heard a “MIAOW”. Not an unusual sound for a house that boasts four cats. I guessed that it belong to our ginger feline, Pythagoras.

He is somewhat of a climber and prefers to enter the house via the first floor windows. Nimbly he goes from the fence to the shed roof to the conservatory roof, tip toes across then jumps up onto the lower section of the house roof, wanders over the ridge of the garage and saunters round to the first floor windows, varying his point of entry between the bathroom and Boy Child’s room.

Another “MIAOW” dragged me out of bed and I wandered through to the bathroom, expecting to find Pythagoras patiently waiting to be let in.

No cat.

“Boy Child’s window,” I thought and crept into his room to check.

No cat.

“Hmmm. Perhaps he has gone back to the rear of the house.” I checked Girl Child’s window.

No cat.

Now slightly more awake, I listened carefully and, in between cuckoo calls (that bird is driving me insane, by the way!) I could hear claws moving about and the occasional soft “miaow”.

“He must have gone onto the higher part of the roof and got stuck,” I deduced, rubbing the last remnants of sleep from my eyes.

Barefoot and still in my pyjamas I rushed downstairs and outside to check. So, by ten past six, I’m standing in the middle of the street in my Alter Bridge t-shirt and animal print pyjama bottoms staring up at the roof.

Not a cat in sight. (Humble apologies to any of my neighbours who may have been mentally scarred by my early morning appearance)

Once back indoors, I listened again. I could still hear miaowing and puddy paws moving about.

Was he in the loft? Nah! He couldn’t possibly have got into the loft. No one had been up there for nearly a week and I distinctly remembered putting Pythagoras outside the night before.

Ridiculous as it sounded though, it was the only place he could be.

Trying and failing to be quiet, I got the ladders out of the cupboard, clambered up and very warily slid up the loft hatch, dreading to think what may come flying down on the top of me. Fortunately nothing leapt out at me. I reached up and pulled the light cord then turned to scan round the overly cluttered loft space.

Sitting trembling on a piece of wood was Pythagoras.

 

Out of all the humans in the house I am that cat’s least favourite. This rescue mission now required Boy Child, his human of choice. I went back down the ladder to waken the sleeping teenager – no mean feat in itself!

A rather sleepy Boy Child, wearing only his boxers, staggered out of the bedroom and up the ladder. The cat did respond to his calls but stubbornly refused to come within reach.

What followed was a five hour battle of wills. Having resorted to any form of cat bribery available, Boy Child (now better dressed) finally coaxed the terrified moggy over to the hatch and grabbed him.

Pythagoras’ claws flew out as he held on firmly to a length of pine shelving.

Boy Child prised him off.

Next he clung to the edge of the hatch.

Boy Child prised him off.

Finally he clung to Boy Child, claws still out, and was liberated from the loft.

Rescue complete.

A closer inspection of our roof has revealed a row of slipped tiles that have left a cat sized hole up in one corner beside one of the windows.

The next rescue mission here may well be “The Big Green Gummi Bear” as he goes out onto the roof via the bathroom window to attempt a repair.

Somehow if he gets stuck I don’t think catnip will work to coax him back in!

 

 

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The dangers of letting my inner teenager out of the box

Posted on May 27, 2014 | Leave a comment

In the last thirty six hours I’ve discovered just how easy it is to unleash the inner teenager in me. Apparently it only takes three simple things –

The first was the release yesterday of a new live album I had pre-ordered. It was an online release so it was a long impatient wait with multiple email check-ins. Finally, around seven o’clock last night, my patience was rewarded and the link to download the new Todd Kerns Live in Vegas album came through from Pledge Music. It was promptly downloaded, synced to my iPod and blasted round the kitchen, accompanied by grumblings about the noise from the Big Green Gummi Bear.

The second thing was a UK tour announcement. Breakfast time this morning was flung into more chaos than normal by the news that Slash is touring later this year. Finally, all things going to plan, I’ll get to see the great man play live with the added bonus that Messrs Kennedy and Kerns will share the same stage.

The third and final thing was news of the release date of the new Slash album. I discovered this via social media at lunchtime. Perfect timing as the silly grin that had been on my face all morning following the tour news was starting to fade. Realising I could also pre-order this long awaited musical treasure ensured the silly grin remained in place all afternoon. (Apologies to my colleagues who had to put up with me all day.)

Who says women are hard to please!

I appreciate that these are silly trivial things in the grand scheme of life. With the doom and gloom that fills the news on a daily basis it’s refreshing to find simple things that add an element of fun to the day. Life without a bit of fun would be very boring indeed.

So what next?

Well the inner teenager has been squeezed back into her box (the lid may still be open a fraction) and it’s time to re-connect with the semi-sensible adult self and patiently wait on three things.

The first of these is the relatively short wait for the concert tickets to go on sale at the end of the week. (OK – confession – yes, I have already scoured the internet for pre-sale options and double checked my passwords for the various ticket sites. Can’t do the adult thing for too long)

The second is to watch for the postman arriving with the album that has now been pre-ordered. It’s only a few short months……checks the number of weeks on calendar….

And assuming that the first one falls into place, the third thing is the concert itself.

Wonder how early we’d need to arrive to get a space on the barrier……… CRASH goes the box lid!

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A Post-It note saves the day

Posted on May 21, 2014 | 2 comments

Ever get the feeling that you can’t get out of your own road? Sound familiar? Well that’s me this week BIG time.

Usually I am a pretty well organised person both at the “salt mine” and at home. However, over the last few days, I can’t seem to get everything done that needs doing when I come home from work- including writing this blog entry! It’s been on the mental To Do list since Sunday morning and as I write it’s 7.35 on Wednesday night.

I’ve not been doing nothing. I can’t do nothing. I have accomplished a fair amount writing wise over the last few days that I am extremely proud of.( That story may fill a future blog but, to briefly fill you in, a few weeks ago I got involved in writing music reviews for a friend’s website. To date I’ve completed five for her – two of these in the last week.) Seeing my work online for all to see is giving me a buzz; seeing musicians that I admire subsequently “like” what I’ve said about their work has blown me away.

It’s blown me right off course! Hence the current state of disorganised chaos that is freaking me out.

Realising this had to stop immediately I made a list on a Post-It note before I left the “salt mine” tonight. These tasks must be put to bed before I’m allowed to snuggle under the duvet tonight!

OK – so a quick rundown of the last two and a half hours-

5:00pm    –   left work to drive home via my parents’ house to collect Boy Child.

6:00 pm   –   arrive home, having been a good mummy and stopped at the foot of   the hill to pick up Girl Child to give her a lift the rest of the way home. That hilll’s a killer! Rounded up the various furry members of the household who were loitering in the driveway and fed them.

6:30pm    –    Pizza’s in the oven for the kids’ dinner; the laundry has been rounded  up and has made it as far as the floor in front of the washing machine ; the towels that were in the drier have been returned to the bathroom; mail for the day has been opened. Two tasks have to be urgently      added to my magic Post-It list – new CD to iPod and complete cat’s               insurance form.

7:00 pm   –   I  have attempted the phone call that I needed to make but no one’s home. Left a message so can tick it off the list. While I’m eating dinner    I’m adding the new cd to my iTunes so that I can sync my precious                      iPod, I’m filling in the insurance form and pondering for the hundredth             time “what can I write in this blog entry?”.

Unplanned and irresistible distraction alert – it’s sunny outside and still warm enough to sit outdoors. I love the sun!

7:30pm    –     iPod updated, dinner eaten, washing under way in the machine,   Insurance form completed, road tax for the car sorted out for the next          twelve months.

Sun is now screaming on me!

7.35pm  –     I surrendered and am now sitting in the sun writing, this blog        listening to the new cd on my iPod and enjoying a sneaky mid-week                    Chardonnay.

The Post- it note is now all ticked off. Mission accomplished!

Here’s hoping normal organised chaos levels resume before I run out of Post –It notes

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A day out with the Big Green Gummi Bear, Dragons and a Bearded Lady

Posted on May 12, 2014 | Leave a comment

It’s an all too rare occurrence but the Big Green Gummi Bear and I went out for the day last Saturday. We’re really not very good at this “going out together thing” -you’d think after over twenty five years together we’d have got the hang of it!

With Boy Child and Girl Child left at home with pizzas to cook for their dinner and a cat nominated as the person in charge, we headed off to Glasgow to see Cirque du Soleil at the SSE Hydro. After some debate about where to park the car, we finally chose the science centre car park (my suggestion so I got to pay the parking costs). It was a beautiful spring afternoon and, as we walked across the footbridge over the River Clyde, I stole a moment or two to take a few photos. (I could hear the Big Green Gummi Bear growling under his breath). Note to self – it’s not a good idea to wear metal tipped stiletto heels when trotting across a steel bridge! I’m sure my “dainty” footsteps could be heard for miles!

The Hydro is a fabulous venue but, despite my enthusing at great length about it to the Big Green Gummi Bear for the last six months, he didn’t get to experience the sheer size of it due to the subtle lighting ( or lack of light) when we entered the “bowl” to take our seats for the show.

Large Chinese lanterns hung down from the roof creating a tranquil atmosphere. It felt like sitting inside a temple from the Ming Dynasty. Cirque do Soleil’s Dralion was a fantastically colourful show. The programme explained the theme as being a “cultural fusion where Nature and Man become one in a quest for harmony. With the Dragon (Dralion) symbolising the 3000 year old tradition of Chinese acrobatic arts. In this magical world the four elements governing the natural order take on human form to defy the laws of gravity.” And defy the laws of gravity they did!

We were treated to a two hour extravaganza of acrobats, aerial pas de deux, single handed balancing, aerial hoop, juggling and the incredible crossed wheel. There’s so much going on out on the stage that at times it’s hard to know where to look. I could have watched the trampolinists all day – they really did defy gravity! The Dralions, Chinese Dragons each made up of two acrobats, were incredible but I’d have liked to have seen more of them. Like every “circus” show Cirque du Soleil has its clowns. I’m not meaning silly wigs, red noses and big shoe type clowns but more traditional clowning more akin to “Mr Bean” in some respects. The four clowns’ impeccable comic timing and forays into the audience added just the right element of humour.

We emerged from our Chinese temple back out into the early evening sunshine. Cue more loud “trotting” back across the bridge. On the way home we stopped off for a delicious meal and a very welcome glass of wine at a small restaurant overlooking Dumbarton Rock, a volcanic basalt plug on the banks of the River Clyde, and Dumbarton Castle.

All in all it was perfect day out – so how do you round off such a magical day? (Put that naughty thought away!)

We came home to Boy Child and Girl Child, opened a bottle of wine, sprawled out on the couch and watched the Eurovision Song Contest. Cheesy trashy pop music for over two hours – what more can I say! Quite appropriate though, that after our day at the circus, it should be won by the Bearded Lady.

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Irreconcilable Socks and the Solidarity of Shirts

Posted on May 5, 2014 | Leave a comment

There’s one thing that never ceases to amaze me on a weekly basis and that’s the amount of clothes we go through in this house. I’m sure someone sneaks in here and deposits their laundry in my basket. It used to be a weekly ironing pile I faced on a Sunday – now it’s a veritable mountain with an accompanying mountain range of bedcovers, towels, socks and knickers!

How can four people generate so much laundry in one week?

I’m convinced that once it’s placed in the laundry basket in the cupboard in the utility room that it breeds in the dark.

Shirts! They are like magnets and attract other shirts – usually tangling themselves in each other’s sleeves as an act of solidarity in the washing machine. Between Monday and Friday the three shirt-wearing inhabitants manage to dirty fifteen of them! Grrrr

Socks are another nuisance. Pesky wee things! I’m sure they are playing games with me. At the end of last week I had three “odd” dark socks. What the Hell I thought and threw them back into the laundry basket in the hope that they would be magically reconciled with their partners. It worked! However three other pairs got “divorced” and I still have three “odd” socks!

You’d think, logically, that Girl Child would be the worst offender for generating excessive amounts of washing. True, she does that teenage girl thing – wears it once or sometimes even just tries it on and decides not to wear it – and throws it in the general direction of the washing basket.

Wrong!

The Big Green Gummi Bear is the culprit. His love of water sports and daily trips to the gym are to blame. At the weekend he can work his way through three or four sets of t-shirts, socks and underwear per day. If left unattended for more than twenty four hours this sweaty wet pile exacts its revenge and begins to emit the most foul odour of Eau d’River Clyde. (The washing that is not the Big Green Gummi Bear…well maybe occasionally)

Ironing also has its own magic powers. My rule of thumb is that “if it doesn’t get ironed on Sunday then it has to wait until next week”. I’m a bit OCD about getting it all done on a Sunday (watching MotoGP or Formula 1 does help to get through it quicker). I’ll sort it into two piles- shirts and stuff that requires a cooler iron. By the time I’ve set up the ironing board and the iron, there’s invariably a cat, Frankenstein, sound asleep in the middle of it – on top of something black of course.

I surrender! I’m away to investigate the pros and cons of joining a nudist colony.

Only joking- I’m actually away to hang out the washing!

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Four months along the twisting and turning blog path

Posted on April 30, 2014 | 1 comment

I can barely believe that it’s been four months since I bit the bullet and started this blog page. Where does time go? Or as the old adage goes- time flies when you are having fun.

And, despite the fears of posting my writing on here, I am having a fun adventure on this creative journey.

At the very outset of this scary magical trip, I said one of my biggest fears was letting people read what I write. I’d be lying if I said I’d totally overcome it but, with each post, it’s getting easier. Each “like” or kind comment banishes another little bit of that crippling fear. So thank you.

I set the goal of submitting one post per week and so far I’m on track. Finding the time to write my blog piece for the week can sometimes prove a challenge. There just aren’t enough hours in the day or the week on occasion. I’ve tried not to be too regimented to prevent it from becoming “routine” – “it’s Tuesday and it’s eight o’clock so it must be blog time”- I can’t write like that. For me it needs to be spontaneous and not overly thought. Do you agree, fellow bloggers?

I’ve also resisted the temptation to rant – although I reserve the right to do so should an appropriate rant come along.

Another fear that, so far, hasn’t come to fruition was that I wouldn’t be able to think of a post for the week. Long may that luck hold out!

The biggest surprise over the last few months writing-wise has been the popularity of my short story “The Imp”. Initially the first part was written as a standalone short tale that grew out of my mental meanderings while out for a walk one lunchtime and was brought to life a few short hours later, while sitting in the car, in the dark, outside the school while I waited for Boy Child to come out from wind orchestra rehearsals. (The Imp is a drawing in another project I am working on and I began to muse about what his story may be and it spiralled from there.)Nine parts later and his tale has been told – for now. Crazy as this may sound, I miss him. Imp fans – he will be back at a later date – time allowing!

As usual time is running away with me so I’ll end here for now. I’d like to thank everyone who is accompanying me, encouraging me and supporting me along this winding creative path. Without you, I’d probably still just be sitting in my conservatory, filling notebooks with stories and poems that no one but me will ever read and wondering “what if…..”.

Thank you and I hope you stick with me for the rest of the journey. Feel free to bring along some friends too. I’m enjoying the company.

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The Imp – part nine

Posted on April 23, 2014 | 1 comment

The Imp – part nine.

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