A walk

Against the wind, we walked along the boardwalk swerving, from other walkers and veering into pebbles, my dress a dancing ribbon orange against steel blue sky. We took the path beneath the bridge, you needed somewhere to sit, and wind was snatched from our ears, emerging into sudden silence we found a garden of agapanthus … Continue reading A walk

Silence

If I have been silent it is because my throat has become hoarse from one unending scream rising, rising, my breath is gone, a kettle on a stove, and higher still, then fading from earshot but the scream carries on and I do not know how long for, til the atrocities stop or til I … Continue reading Silence

A View From The Sea

Something atop the cliff black against the pale sun stumbles, rights itself, strides out toward the cliff edge on matchstick legs; stands, on a precipice for all the world looking like an oversized crow, a baby bird afraid to flex its wings, and turns its back on the sea becomes smaller, is gone. Looking up … Continue reading A View From The Sea

Her song is soft;

her hands are a shock of cold that runsup my backI bite my lip, biting back the gaspas her icy touch climbs my spine and trickles down again I sink into hersink into the cold until the sting becomesa pleasant numbnessand I am almost warmthough the sun wanes behind a cloud and the breeze sends … Continue reading Her song is soft;

Finding the ‘Zig-zag Path’; or, the Man-made Grottoes of Folkestone

So we walked up from the beach and listened to the birdsong, which is so much clearer with everyone now in hiding, and I came across a path I hadn't noticed before... So naturally we had to explore and take a lot of pictures. This little walk proved quite inspiring, perhaps some of the features … Continue reading Finding the ‘Zig-zag Path’; or, the Man-made Grottoes of Folkestone

Socially Mobile

I have been reading a lot about social mobility for a teacher-training related assignment, and I have been thinking a lot about what it means to be 'socially mobile' and what that looked like for myself growing up. I come from a working class family, grew up in social housing, fought tooth and nail for a place at the local grammar school and went to university to pursue my love of literature only to come home to unemployment and arguments with family over political differences. I have never forgotten where I came from, but I feel deeply a sense of loss of identity that cannot be mitigated by being ushered into the 'middle class' because of my decision to become a teacher which has left me no better off than my working class parents but with a very different perspective on life that often causes tensions with my loved ones. In education we talk a lot about motivating pupils, about social mobility, and aspirations, encouraging pupils to go to university because we take it to be an indisputable 'good'. But my reality has been that despite my love of learning and passion for my subject, I was unable to pursue the research and writing I loved because I did not have the financial backing to do so, because my family were not wealthy. And though I decided because of this to become a teacher instead, and find value and importance in the work, teaching is considered middle class while simultaneously being an incredibly poorly paid profession, and I often wonder whether I am truly helping pupils, or merely enforcing the status quo, by pushing pupils towards a social ladder that necessitates the 'failure' or, rather, undervaluing, of their peers, and more often than not, their family members. Anyway, I wrote a poem.

He left us in the spring

And I thought, what was I doing, on that day? and remembered the half finished sketch dropped on the bed the paints out preemptively to catch the pink buds on the Tamarisk tree. All of it discarded, then, interrupted. I remember, the phone rang and an awful feeling in my gut as the quiet answered, … Continue reading He left us in the spring

When I think of you

Granddad, you died of a broken heart long before you were ever truly gone and the years between then and sending you on your way were spent first, trying to bring you back we filled your home with love and laughter and in your ears it all rang hollow Your soul had departed moons ago … Continue reading When I think of you

Review: Katherine Macdonald’s The Rose and the Thorn

The Rose and the Thorn: A Beauty and the Beast Retelling by Katherine Macdonald My rating: 5 of 5 starsThis book, and I really think this says a lot, has had me completely and utterly entranced. It has brought joy and light and life into my dingy lock-down flat in a world where such comforts … Continue reading Review: Katherine Macdonald’s The Rose and the Thorn

Handsome Tyb Goes Undercover

A short snippet of my current work in progress, 'The Hunter's Boy', courtesy of the fabulous Tyb (whom you may have encountered before on this blog).