Mum, blogger, crafter, reviewer, writer, traveller: I love to write and I am not limited by form. Here, you will find stories, articles, opinion pieces, poems, all of which reflect me: who I am, what I love, what I feel, how I view things.
The Cost of the Win - brain deterioration in sport
This weekend sees the start of the Six Nations Rugby Championship and I am viewing it with mixed feelings. For those of you not in the know, let me explain what the Six Nations is. It is a competition between six rugby playing nations comprising of England, France, Ireland, Italy, Scotland and my homeland, Wales. All teams compete against each other over the space of a couple of months and their results are entered into a table according to a point system. The team with most points is crowned the victor. If they have won all of their games, they win the Grandslam, a highly coveted accolade. If they come bottom, they effectively win the "Wooden Spoon", a figurative title rather than an actual trophy.
Life Through Glass
A day at the aquarium is just what we need, she thought to herself. It had been a long time since she and Robin had had a dedicated day to themselves and the thought of the calm, tranquil environment of the aquarium appealed to her; letting the surroundings dictate the mood, a mood that would allow them to focus on each other. A little world of bright technicolour, like being in a natural kaleidoscope. Magical almost and suspended from reality. It appealed to her sense of romanticism and she was desperately trying to hold onto this in the face of a barrage of the mundane. Their love had become stagnant. She wasn't sure why. Routine? Tiredness? Time constraints? Effort? All of the above? Quite probably. But she was not prepared to continue in this vein and this was her opening attempt at revival. She still loved Robin, she thought, although sometimes she wondered if she was convincing herself of this feeling rather than experiencing it.
Into the Woods
Where it ends The child remained nestled in the covering that his mother had placed on him before she had left. Fire scorched the forest floor around him and there was a strange smell in the air that spoke of violent death and burnt wood, although he was too young to realise that. He was scared and uncertain of what was happening but tears did not come. He lay and soon, he was approached, the shadow of the figure shrouding him in darkness. He looked up as it bent towards him and waited.
A fishy tale
I don't have a pet but I have never been one to let a detail stop me from engaging in a challenge of any sort and especially not a rather enjoyable one like this, a story about my favorite pet moment. But how do I qualify for favorite pet moment if I have no animal companion?