52and40/23 The Selfsame Well


A friend died recently.  She was my writing teacher first (and my first writing teacher).

I can trace roads from everything I’ve had published in the last two years to Helen, her guidance at every way-marker.  Even with this map I’m disorientated; floundering in comprehending such a special woman being gone.


In grief, all roads lead inevitably to my Mum.  Every funeral a little her funeral, too.  Profound losses only comforted by the extreme gratitude for having shared some of the world with extraordinary people’s smiles and stories.

Joy and sorrow, innit?


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52and40/14 Benediction


We saw Collateral Beauty.  The film whisked me back ten years to a hell of a week.  Mum had been admitted to hospital in Aberdeen with a DVT.  My son had his sixth birthday party.  I hadn’t organised a thing for Halloween.

The morning after cobbled together trick or treating, Mum called from hospital and gently explained she had terminal cancer.

The world stopped as grief started.







Who I’d been until then died with her and (slowly, painfully) a new gratitude for life was born.  Heather 2.0.  An unwanted, bittersweet fresh start.




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