Confession of a Highly Sensitive Person


For some reason I find the sight of a perfectly sharpened pencil extremely pleasing. Make it an 8B pencil and I’m ecstatic.
Give me some paper as well, and I’m unstoppable. I’ll scribble down anything. I’ll copy my council tax…


Walking Down Scary Movie Memory Lane


When I was young, to my delight, around Halloween all the TV channels increased their horror movie output. In fact, I probably thought the sole purpose of Halloween was  to celebrate my then favourite genre. 
It’s a little puzzling how…


Stuck in Neverland

There’s this old joke: 
“Mum, when I"m grown up I want to be a writer.” 
“Sorry, honey, you can’t be both.” 
I don’t know if it comes with being an artist, but why is it so difficult being a focused…


Answers on a Postcard, Please.

One of my biggest challenges as an artist is to keep to my schedule … I’m constantly behind with things, because once I pick up a project and start working on it, I get carried away and everything else ceases…



I lay awake the other night thinking about how different people in my life feel like gifts. Some like flowers, some like boxes of chocolates, some more like carefully collected shells.

 And then there’s a few diamonds. And although I…


Lost in Translation

I’m watching a trickle of colourful umbrellas bring some colour into this otherwise grey morning. I’ve taken myself out for some cappuccino, because the smells and sounds make me feel less homesick.  

I’ve managed to procrastinate this morning by spending…


End of Summer Blues

I’m struggling with endings. 
I hate finishing books - that awful feeling when there’s no more story left and you have to return to your own world. 
I hate the end of holidays and visits with friends or family -…


New Rabbit Holes



I’ve been pretty quiet. 

I’ve been looking for life’s pause button - since I haven’t found one, I reckon it’s time to slowly emerge again. 
Here I am, still feeling a little quiet, but very much alive. Reassessing, scheming…


What I Do When I Disappear

A Parisian Cafe by Ilya Repin


I never tire of sitting in cafes watching the world go by.

Listen to the humming of the coffee machines, the clinking of cups, the chatter of people. 
Especially at busy times when it’s…


Living Outside the Box

My past is a country I'm glad I'll never have to revisit. 

I grew up being taught not to think outside the box. Unfortunately that’s usually where the good ideas hang out.  
I remember one day in my late teens…


If Life Isn't a Cabaret, Something's Wrong

It’s hot. It’s a Sunday and I’m sitting in a friend’s beautiful garden, sipping tea, and looking out onto a spread of summery fruit and toast.   

Summer’s pretty much passed me by. I’ve literally just returned from a small festival…


The Song I Found Most Difficult To Write


It started out as a poem, a villanelle. Set to music, it sounds like a bullfight. You might find it on my next album. 


Vanishing Trick (Smoke Mirrors and Trap Doors in the Floor) 


Each day you disappear a little…