When I was little and attempting to write something, gazing thoughtfully at a notebook, Grandma asked where I get my ideas from. I replied, ‘From books.’
Yeah…that wasn’t the right response, apparently! I hadn’t communicated effectively. She thought I meant specific ideas; I meant inspiration.
Books inspire me. Stories inspire me – prose, plays, films, verbal storytelling etc. All of it.
At the time when Grandma asked me that question, I was working my way through a box of books leant to me by a family friend – all stories about horses. I devoured them. I was obsessed with the idea of horses generally, even though I had never ridden one and tended to be too scared to even Continue reading
Yesterday it wasn’t raining. It was breezy, but sunny and warm. I was in need of a walk, to pray and sort out my thoughts, as I was feeling burdened. I wandered down the hill, through the town and towards the sea, with no fixed idea of where I was heading.
I found myself half praying that someone I knew would come along – someone to talk to, to make sense of everything. I walked slowly through the gates and into the bowling green, a lovely spot next to the sea. I came to rest on a bench. Colourful flowers were blooming all around.
A tortoiseshell cat arrived the moment I sat down, rushing and leaping up beside me. He began to nuzzle my side and then my leg. I don’t like cats generally, because I’m allergic to them. When I was little I wanted to be a vet. I don’t know how I thought that could happen when I was allergic to so many animals and afraid of so many others! Continue reading