• Sinful Sunday

    Memories

    Like well iron’d linen Placed in a scented drawer Memories are kept I have been domesticated for most of my adult life.  I married young, working class girls in the seventies didn’t really have the benefit of the sexual liberation of the upper and middles classes that had happened during the earlier decade.  I suspect if I had stayed on at school after sixteen that might have changed but as a GPO telephonist rings on fingers were the measure of value and my apprentice fitter husband-to-be obliged with a cubic zirconium.  That marriage ended after 12 years and I am now just a year out of a 25 year marriage.  I…

  • Sinful Sunday

    Honestly?

    Some of you may know that I have been working in a pub for the last four months.  This came about after I had run out of all available sources of money and had failed to deliver the goods on a sales launch that I had been involved with since the beginning of the year which followed me leaving the company I had co-created and built for the preceding fifteen years.  That company has since then been asset stripped and lies broken and lost.  The speed with which that happened is still shocking to me and I have grieved for the lost potential for my employees and fellow director and…

  • Sinful Sunday

    I will

    I will get through this. By sheer effort of will I will somehow connect to me in a way that feels real and supportive and loving especially when all I want seems to be outside of me, endlessly outside of me and never to be attained but just glimpsed through others. I was married for a longtime, both times. I have called myself a serial monogamist in the past but now I am not so sure. I identify as a submissive, as a slut and pain slut too at times and I don’t know where that leaves me, what place I inhabit after so long of enjoying the virtuous cage…

  • Sinful Sunday

    I am alright (particularly when I am not)

      I am not alright. Everything around me is changing or worse than that staying the fucking same and it is freaking me out. My anchor has been wrenched from the bottom where it had been lodged for 25 years. Years when I have gazed with desire at far horizons and imagined myself sailing there with that ship and that crew and never, ever imagined I would have to journey there on my own. I feel adrift. Literally rocked and pushed and pulled here and there by passing currents, tropical storms, shoals of fish caught in the hanging chain. I snag on rocks and wrecks as the waves crash onto…