TLDR

My mother, my sister and I have a thread on facebook. While the content is deeply uncontroversial, its existence remains a source angst for my sister who cannot handle the fact that two of us like to engage in back-and-forth conversations (rather than typed diatribes) which, combined with our propensity to chat early and hers to sleep late means her first contribution will often be, ‘109 messages? Srsly?’

From Little Things

It’s just gone 8am on Sunday morning and I really should still be asleep but I had the misfortune of forgetting to turn my normal 6.30am alarm off and then the double affliction of being unable to find the ‘stop’ button instead of the just the ‘snooze’ and so after an hour of sleeping for 8 minute bursts I gave up and am now sitting nestled into the corner sofa at my mum’s new flat in Bronte.

Figs & fruitlessness

It’s been an age since I wrote. I always think I can remember ideas that come to me, so I don’t write them down in the moment but just turn them over, considering the angles and how to best unpack what it is I’m pondering… and then I leave my thoughts for a moment, to have coffee or hang my washing or answer the phone and suddenly the idea is a flame extinguished and all I can do is press my fingers into the embers left behind, trying to revive the spark.