• Moments,  Us

    Sometimes desire

    This used to be the only place we met. We lived apart, had separate lives, friends, and families. Now, most of our kids have met the other. The venn diagram of our friends has many more people in the centre. Our lives intersect in so many places without bleeding into each other so much that we don’t know where we both begin and end. We’re here, a hotel room in the afternoon, a bottle of champagne and some sushi down, chatting, snoozing and enjoying each other’s company. We’re intimate, close, and connected. It’s a gift neither of us take for granted. And, easy though it might be to hold what…

  • Me,  Words

    A Manifesto for my 63rd year

    I started the piece of writing thinking I was going to make a list of places I wanted to visit and experiences I wanted to have. I guess that will have to wait for another post as this is what came out of the ends of my fingers.

  • us in tent
    Moments,  Us,  Words

    It wouldn’t be enough

    A long time ago, in a small market town, there lived a woman who thought she knew what it was to be loved and that if she didn’t feel loved the problem was with her.  She spent a lot of time adjusting her attitude, practising gratitude, and learning all she could about how to keep her husband and children happy.  Because that was a her role, her aim in life, and her happiness.  She knew this. She also knew that she would die someday and her gravestone would read ‘could have done better’. When she met a man who seemed to offer everything she needed, Who understood her need to…

  • Me,  Moments,  Words

    Lessons I have learnt from grief

    Those of you that follow me on twitter will have seen my message about my mum’s death. She became ill with Corvid-19 around a week ago, her nursing home had an outbreak in the corridor of the building her room was on and they locked it down to isolate those people who were ill with it from those that weren’t. In retrospect it hasn’t taken long at all, however it feels like a journey of a million steps from there to here. Mum was comparatively physically robust, certainly when I contrast her with my dad’s frailty of the three years before he died. Her mind was where her fragility showed.…

  • #F4TFriday,  Me,  Moments,  Words

    Elpis and the Road Less Travelled

    I have a little book with me. The first entry is dated 27/07/2000, 19 years ago and 7 months into our setting up our business together with a family of four, the youngest of which was 4 years old. My thoughts were naturally revolving around my children. I can see that I am concerned with how I was spending my time with them, but also, even then, with how to be me. I write ‘The Art of Living – ways of being with children, not using the time to educate them, actually showing them yourself‘ I go further ‘How to make a job/career of that time’ Then I add ‘Therese’s…

  • Words

    When I thought you were a god

      I have been thinking a lot about the early days of our relationship – back before I would even have called it such a thing.  I am aware of a number of reasons why I wouldn’t have called what we had and did a relationship then. It was online and online friends/crushes/relationships don’t count do they? I was keeping the fact that it was a relationship from myself because otherwise I would have had to stop engaging and I didn’t want to do that. He had taught me how to use a silo in my mind in which all that we did and were existed so that I could…

  • Words

    No touching

    I don’t touch myself. My own hand between my own legs doesn’t feel sexy, it feels invasive. If I pinch my own nipples I am bemused by the dissociation present between the parts of my body and my mind. If I cup my own breasts I am just shocked by the weight of them rather than enraptured by their curves. I do not touch myself. Which was the cart and which the horse? I don’t remember masturbating as a child, so much so that I didn’t really know it was a thing a girl or a woman would or could do. My thrill was in the sensation that could be…

  • Words

    Connection, intimacy and time

    We have a routine, He and I.  I have written about it before.  The morning message, the shared journey to work, the cheerful ‘coffee?’ as we both grab a bit of space mid morning, the ‘lunch?’ reminder, the so welcome ‘tea?’ halfway through the afternoon, and the questioning ‘done?’ followed by the triumphant ‘done!’ as we both leave work.  Then we chat about our day until we both head to our evenings to reconvene around 9.15 for the last hour and a half of the day before curling up together and saying ‘night love xx’. We both know this is remote, believe me we do, but this rhythm frames our…

  • Words

    I don’t want to write this post

    There was a time when every encounter brought words gushing out of me. I had no trouble creating imaginative connections, new neural pathways were being forged, synapses were sparked, emotions were unlocked and I flowed, like a river towards the sea, always towards Him He was my ocean and I bathed in Him. I wrote for Him. He was my Master and when I struggled to start a piece I would ask Him for words. His words, His specific way of seeing the world opened up so much to me and I was made anew by His presence and touch. He made me gasp and tremble and cry with pain.…

  • #F4TFriday,  Words


    Yes I shouldn’t have said yes to that boy who offered to take me for a drive. I shouldn’t have said yes to the boy who invited me in when I told him what the first boy and I had done. I shouldn’t have walked down the road, looking into the eyes of the young men that drove towards me. I shouldn’t have said yes to the ones that stopped and asked me if I wanted a lift. I shouldn’t have said yes when they asked ‘does someone here want to be saved?’ I shouldn’t have said yes when they invited me to walk to the front to be prayed…