Saturday, 4 April 2015

Out and About :: Ireland

Oh Ireland how you beguile me. There is something about this landscape that sings to me and makes me feel like I am coming home. One day...

Friday, 27 March 2015

Life :: 500

This is my 500th post. I wrote the first one in January 2011 and I remember the day as if it were yesterday. I had been reading blogs for a while and was very nervous when I first pressed the 'publish' button.It seems so long ago now and blogging has become very much part of my life. I set it up as an area for me - my life is a whirlwind of busy-ness and I called it a quiet corner because I saw it as a space just to be me and for me to indulge in all of my interests. What I had no idea about was that other people would read my words.

Tuesday, 17 March 2015

Simplify :: home

At the start of the year I wrote about my wish to simplify my home, my life and my approach to work. I have really worked on this and have been concentrating on making sure that what happens in my life is what I want; no more automatic 'yes' just to keep the peace.

In my home I have been slowly discarding the unnecessary and - this is a key thing for me - getting rid of things that I really dislike. Do you have those things? They are lurking in your cupboards and you keep them because they function - but that every time you use them they make your spirit die a little. I had some bowls like that. There was nothing wrong with them, some one may well like them, but that is not the issue. The truth is that I hated them and hated eating out of them. They are gone now and do you know what - I am happier! What we use now are some beautiful handmade bowls that we have had for several years but because they were on a higher shelf we didn't use nearly as much. Why did we let that happen?

My home is a place where I want to feel at peace, a place for love. I want to be surrounded by greenery, natural fibres, simple things that work well. With every step I walk towards that goal.

Sunday, 15 March 2015

Family :: Mother's Day

There is a poem I love about mothers by Carol Ann Duffy that remembers that mothers were other beings before they become mothers. We know that about ourselves but can sometimes forget that about our own mothers. This photo of my lovely mother always makes me think of this poem - she looks so young and full of a life she is yet to live. 

Happy Mother's Day to all the mothers out there but especially to my mum x

I’m ten years away from the corner you laugh on
with your pals, Maggie McGeeney and Jean Duff.
The three of you bend from the waist, holding
each other, or your knees, and shriek at the pavement.
Your polka-dot dress blows round your legs. Marilyn.

I’m not here yet. The thought of me doesn’t occur
in the ballroom with the thousand eyes, the fizzy, movie tomorrows
the right walk home could bring. I knew you would dance
like that. Before you were mine, your Ma stands at the close
with a hiding for the late one. You reckon it’s worth it.

The decade ahead of my loud, possessive yell was the best one, eh?
I remember my hands in those high-heeled red shoes, relics,
and now your ghost clatters toward me over George Square
till I see you, clear as scent, under the tree,
with its lights, and whose small bites on your neck, sweetheart?

Cha cha cha! You’d teach me the steps on the way home from Mass, stamping stars from the wrong pavement. Even then
I wanted the bold girl winking in Portobello, somewhere
in Scotland, before I was born. That glamorous love lasts
where you sparkle and waltz and laugh before you were mine.

Wednesday, 11 March 2015


There is something so soothing about the ticking of a clock. It reminds me of sitting in my primary school classroom, writing in silence, deeply involved in the world I was creating. I often lived in my head as a child; preferring worlds I created to the real one. Maybe that is why I find the tick of our new clock so lovely - it takes me back to such innocent times. Whatever when I work in the kitchen now I find myself turning the radio off and listening to the sound of the clock.