Monthly Archives: January 2015

On Hols, Since 1986? No.

Posted on January 29, 2015 by Sheila N

You’d think, after nearly 30 years amongst the heathens – sorry, in Doncaster – the locals would’ve stopped asking. The scene: a market stall, a few weeks back. Me: purchasing a belt. Because, even in Doncaster, it’s not considered good … Continue reading →

Posted in Immigrant Me, Language & accents | Tagged , , , , , | 3 Comments

The Last Leaf’s Youngest Daughter

Posted on January 25, 2015 by Sheila N

“There is no love without loss.” There are two old men in my life. One of them is a rodent. Of all the relationships which hid the skids when I lost it, the one between myself and my father is … Continue reading →

Posted in Nostalgia | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Sitting Next to Andy

Posted on January 18, 2015 by Sheila N

I am sitting on one of the beige sofas – fake leather, probably plastic. Chosen for its ability to be mopped clean of tea, and sweat, and less savoury substances. Next to me, Andy. Chain-smoker. Creator of some of the … Continue reading →

Posted in mental health | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Choosing the Blackbird

Posted on January 15, 2015 by Sheila N

“This is the song of summer…” – from Aerial, by Kate Bush Long before I heard the song, I associated your cheery “chirrup” with dawn, and twilight, and warmth. The kitchen door open, to let in the fresher air. The … Continue reading →

Posted in mental health, Nature | Tagged , , , , , , | 2 Comments

The Shred of a Shed

Posted on January 12, 2015 by Sheila N

 “People bother me. I come here to hide from them.” – George Bernard Shaw I have the beginning of a writer’s shed. Not a rotating summerhouse on a stick, like GBS. Nor even the DIY bits ‘n bats of lumber … Continue reading →

Posted in Doctor Who, Writers & Their Sheds, Writing | Tagged , , , , , | 4 Comments