This Not is for Me
My earliest recollection of Valentine's Day during childhood, was a surprise card through the post. Who could this be? It confused me for a while but seemed like a nice gesture at the time and I was thrilled someone had gone out of their way to notice me. Years later I realised it had been a card from a well intentioned parent. Of course it was. A sweet touch and a must for any child when they are growing up.
Not as Beautiful as Other Cats
When I stumbled across Lola’s profile on a local cat rescue site in 2015, I wasn’t looking for any more cats; after all I was already adoptive parent to three others and as a family we’d vowed we didn’t have room for more animals. Still, one afternoon, with nothing better to do, a cup of tea in hand, I took, what I expected to be, a quick, innocent look through the local online animal rescue sites to see what was about. I began scrolling and within a couple of hits, I came across Lola’s advert:
Each star sign, or sun sign as it's often referred to, is said to have its blend of positive and negative traits. Each a collective, overall summary of the expected characteristics of all born under that time of the year. Nobody likes to identify with the grubby bits; always easier, reassuring even, to see yourself reflected in the happier, nicer, much more acceptable adjectives.
Don't Go Into the Light
We’re going back a bit. It’s Amytiville era and there were some great horror movies around at that time. I’d already seen Friday the 13th by this time. Carrie was up there too for menace and darkness. There was a certain addiction for me to an eery script. That chill running down the spine when you feel you’re not alone. The wonder of another parallel universe existing just out of sight. They can see you but you can’t see them. Noises go unnoticed. Strange occurrences get brushed off as nothing. You question your own life; never looking at things in the same way again.
As I sit alone at the table and wonder who I’ll have at my perfect dinner party, I wait with bated breathe for each and every person to arrive in my mind’s eye. They may well be just what I need. That this guest list is purely instinctive, means it may be a reflection of sorts upon my true nature, hopes and dreams, ambitions and values. Let the energies present themselves. Let the personas emerge. Let the perfectly serendipitous amalgamation begin. I cannot wait.
Elusive Feeling of Abode
If you were to construct a vision of your perfect home, would it be completely tangible, made only of raw materials or would you say that aspects of its creation were more otherworldly and out of the reach of presentation? Is home not a construct that feeds all five senses?
Eighties, so Unabridged, and Me
In the eighties I was me; so unabridged and hopeful. Facing forwards. Facing all the glorious things that life had waiting for me. So unhindered. So unrestrained. So easily, naturally me.