writing – Woke on No sleep

The Dress

Of all the things to do, I needed to choose a dress. Classic, black. I didn’t even question if Mum would have wanted colour. Black. Sombre. Smart. “Don’t go buying anything new” her husband said, “Your mother has a wardrobe full of clothes you can wear” Did he really think I would wear one ofContinue reading “The Dress”

My Mum is Dying

[Quick write: series of stolen journal moments to help me process my mothers cancer diagnosis] I am in the supermarket, doing normal things, Wrestling toddlers into tiny seats, Filling the trolley, All the fruits, enough fish to sink a ship, Pastries, meats, box juice, Things I don’t usually buy, but life is too short, right?Continue reading “My Mum is Dying”

Back Again

Months must have passed. I have moved cities, had another baby, and acquired some well-paid work which gives me pride to mention (maybe I’m not an aching failure) but is as dull as a Manchester morning to talk about. Organisational leadership theory anyone? Thought not. Turns out, being a new-mum-work-bore isn’t enough, and to getContinue reading “Back Again”