A Poem for Autumn

A Poem for Autumn 

Always the most magic of seasons is she

That begins to wipe clean the earth again.

With air consciously breathed and falling leaves;

It is not death, merely renewal.

Preparation for a period of want.

A cleansing, a harvest, a bonfire blazing.

As a child I sharpened new pencils inhaling their scent,

As the year begun in September as autumn hit 

And it still buzzes like new for me,
In these orange months.

Summer may have rendered us dozy,

Satiated with leisure and loving;
A lackadaisical life.

But September chills our bones and heats our souls,

And we throw ourselves into it again. 
With purpose.

It's a new term after all and we can begin.

Living with the leaves, grasping for their colour,

Just as we shirked from bright brilliance in summer behind shades.

What do you really want?

We harvest and we store.

We frighten at Halloween, the extreme.

And we burn, burn, burn,

And light up our sky for Guy.

Autumn is a pleasure, a warning, a human quest for...

I like things moving is all.

And we keep ourselves busy.

Enthralled. Till fall has finally fallen,

And we are left to live as ice-cold gluttons for one month, 

Eating and drinking and fucking till new year.

After, we disappear from behind our eyes for a while,

Barren land, bodies stooped, curmudgeonly;

Until spring dances her pretty feet across our path.

Gone West... Life is Peaceful Here

I'm currently in Cornwall. On my own. I'm still working for clients. And I'm trying to write. Trying really hard. The beauty of being freelance is that I can work from anywhere really, as long as there is a good WiFi connection and power. I can go anywhere.

So I decided to trundle off to Cornwall because I am lucky enough to be able to stay here free.. And it is beautiful. I am situated in a tiny village called Kingsand which is on the Cornwall / Devon border of the South West Coast path. I can walk for miles and miles with beautiful views over the coast and cliffs. I have already seen at least thirty butterflies since I have been here.

It's kind of my safe place. My place of firsts too, I've been coming here for 22 years. I saw my first brawl outside a pub, I also saw a stripper here when I was about ten; it was someones birthday in a pub and I stood on an outside table to see what was going on. I think I first got really drunk here when I was 15 too.

Shamed by Clutter

Even the word clutter makes me shiver with anxiety. Its onomatopoeic potency - at least to me - is such that I imagine myself being buried alive by piles of paperwork, old fancy dress costumes and chargers for unknown phones or laptops that I am just too scared to throw away.

The thing is - as you may realise - I actually don't like clutter, but for some reason in the last three years I have let the stuff accumulate. And in the last few months before I quit my job, it was so bad there were just some drawers I wouldn't dare open.

This past week, I have been spending a lot of "freelance time" sorting, throwing away, tidying, cleaning. I have discovered a cacophony of obscure objects that bring back memories, but crowd my space. Three Union Jack flags from the Jubilee, two fancy dress soldiers' hats, three sets of Christmas lights, mail belonging to housemates that lived with me three years ago, health drinks that went off in 2013. Parking tickets and solitary placemats, candles with no wick and calendars well past their dates. Numerous bits of electricals and nails and scraps of paper, crusty nail varnishes, men's scarves, a book on the Karma Sutra that I definitely didn't buy...

The thing is, I'm trying to clear my head - to clear my vision. Working from home and trying to write a novel as well as searching for commercial work, I need an inspiring environment. And all this chattering clutter is not helping. Objects remind you of times gone by, of feelings gone by, they shame me with the person I have been sometimes. I don't need them here... haunting me, taunting me. I'm detoxing my life... and most of it has got to go.

So that's why I haven't written for a while... I've been in the midst of clutter Cold Turkey and it's killed my voice for a bit. But I feel it's back, stronger and more sure of itself now. 12 steps of freedom.

xx

Little Scraps of Wisdom

Yesterday was Father's Day and I didn't see my father. I had just got back from a week's holiday in Devon and he was away. I texted him late in the evening, but I haven't given him a card or present. I struggle every year on both Mother's Day and Father's Day with buying gifts, because how do you really say thank you for a lifetime... or even for a year. How is there only one day to express gratitude for everything they have given you.

Last year on his birthday I wrote a piece on Things My Father Has Taught Me (So Far), something I recycled and added to in a speech I gave at his recent 60th birthday party. This Father's Day, I was at a loss as to what I could write to explain how grateful I am, then I came across this quote online... 

“I believe that what we become depends on what our fathers teach us at odd moments, when they aren't trying to teach us. We are formed by little scraps of wisdom.”

― Umberto Eco, Foucault's Pendulum

It has inspired me to try to write a poem on these little scraps... so here it is... and Happy Father's Day, Daddy - a day late - I know...

Little Scraps of Wisdom

Safety is the best feeling you can give someone, safety and calm;

When I had nightmares you took me under your arm.

And now when I speak to others, I try to help them feel as secure

In the moment, the conversation, in themselves.

For fear disarms us.

Little gestures of kindness that I never acknowledged at the time

Punctuated my days with you. 

And now I try to be generous everyday too.

You never let me win any game, even aged five

And debated with me even then.

Now I'm a fighter.

Our conversations went on for hours, still do.

So if you didn't have time to finish it, you wouldn't start it.

A lesson I'm still learning.

You were proud of me when I did well, but not sycophantic;

You knew what I was capable of, even as young as I once was.

I loved to hear tales about your travels about all the people around the world,

That you'd met, that you'd spoken to.

You made me dream of travelling far and wide across the earth.

And you never thought you were better, so neither did I.

Despite the privileges afforded to me.

Bad language wasn't clever you said, it's an easy way out.

You have so much at your disposal, no need to sound like a lout.

There's never an easy way to achieve something great.

Whether money or success or respect, you have to graft.

You did graft.

Making the effort with family often seemed like a chore to me.

You respected the bonds of history.

And I loved having all those people around,

And I love to love.

You always have opinions on everything, with fire in your eyes.

Yet you told me of how you were dyslexic and shy.

I never saw it when I was young;

Except when you asked me to spell things.

To me you seemed like a lion, loved by all.

Yet you never made me feel small.

*******

Apologies for the lack of posts. I have fallen of the waggon in my #100DaysofWriting. Getting back on it now...

 

I Mean... Writer's Block

 

Is it writers block or is it laziness, this feeling that overwhelms my fingertips. They buzz like they want to work, but they're disconnected from my brain which seems to have nothing.

Nothing.

Life is full of wonders it really is. I know that. My eyes say that. Meditation class, yoga, books, nature has taught me that. Life is FULL. Yet, when I want to buzz with the wonder and my hands are ready, my brain is reluctant; like a petulant teen, it says "No, not today. Today we have nothing for you. We're just going to lie here and muse about what we want to eat later..."

Is it laziness though? Or is it self-esteem? Something is telling me that however much my finger tips buzz and I write... it will not be good enough, maybe that's why I stop.

Or maybe it will be good enough and that is what I am frightened of. 

Who knows?

Are you good enough at your job?

If you are a writer do you write enough?

The other thing is the mood... I am trying to write a sad scene but my brain is elated, full of happiness, full of life... it can't write the solemness for this passage... or it is scared of it...

Or the opposite.

Which is worse...

I am melancholic.

How can I write anything but sadness, depression, anxiety... how?

But a good writer - (says my ego) - a good writer could write all the time, anything they are - or they are not - feeling...

"NO", argues my soul, "no", it's better when you are soothed. Are you soothed?

Go to bed, talk, laugh; soothe your soul darling...

Your writers block is not laziness, it is you fighting yourself darling, that is what it is.

You are not listening....

Listen, please.

It will get easier if you do...

#The100DayProject, #100DaysofWriting, Day 21

Four Weddings and Added Instagram Hashtags

When I watched Four Weddings and a Funeral as a young teenager, I yearned for the time of weddings, for country houses and London receptions and all best friends having LOLs over champagne. I couldn’t wait for the romance and the Mini Coopers and the hats. Now I have officially entered wedding life season, here are a few observations that I would like to make about how my childhood dream has been destroyed...: 

1) They do not warn you about the money. I know everyone complains about this... but FFS. 

Starting with 

A) The Hen/Stag Do: It is in the South of France with MOH e-mailing everyone “Hi Guys! Please all transfer me £500.00 all-in for Buttercup’s hen. Also please all prepare a stand-up comedy routine / original song / handmade quilt for Buttercup as a gift. Will be such LOLS. Also send me stories about Buttercup.” – I don’t know any fucking stories she’s an old work colleague that I didn’t much like. My only stories about her revolve around her lunch choices and the occasional time she’d get pissed on a work night out and flirt with the intern.

Things Left Unsaid to a Lover 1: I Wish You Were More Intelligent

I wrote this as a a monologue response to a playwriting workshop I did today. We were asked to write down as many "things left unsaid to a lover" in a minute and then we picked one to write something on in ten mins. Mine was, I Wish You Were More Intelligent... Maybe you'll see a version of it or the sentiment as part of a play one day.

I'm tempted to turn it into a series... There are many things in life left unsaid to lovers...

"I used to find it endearing the way that you are. That you laugh at everything, that you'll do anything your mates tell you in the pub. Just for the hell of it. I used to watch and think, there's my puppy. Now I think you're like the court's fool.

I watched you throw up, you were so pissed the other day because you downed 10 jäger bombs cos someone asked you to. It wasn't even like you lost a bet. And then you didn't sleep all night because obviously... And I didn't sleep because you didn't and there you were vomit-scented and caffeine-fitting beside me..

I think your friends take advantage of you. 

I wish that you would talk to me about REAL THINGS, you know like art, literature, politics, the news. I don't think we can survive on sex and mutual pisshead friends anymore, I just don't.

You said you've only read one book since school.

I don't think it's bad that I want more. I don't. I'm not an intellect snob. You're so kind and you make me feel safe and you are so beautiful... But it's not enough for me.

I just wish you were more intelligent..."

Dedicated to the Ones Who Know Us Best

If you've got them you know, you know who they are. Without question. They're the ones that sense when something's wrong and call even if they're 100 miles away. Who let you borrow their shoes, even if you stretch them. They send you links of stuff they'd think you'd like and buy you silly cheap presents that are memories of a long-forgotten holiday. They think you're sparkling, so much so that you wonder where you'll find a lover who will reflect back such a magnificent picture. They know your drink order.

They'll talk to you about the same problem you've had for ten years with patience, but they'll call you on your bullshit too. You can spend hours with them in silence, and their parents have your mobile number. They'd happily invite you along on their date nights and vice versa.

You've enjoyed many a kitchen disco.

If you called them at 3am and they picked up, you know they'd help you with whatever you needed. They remember what you were like at 14, 16, 18, 21 and know that you still carry some of that uncomfortable adolescent in you, beneath the banter and blow dry.

They know your type from a mile off and steer you away if he's ill-advised.

If they wanted to they could say things that would pierce your deepest insecurities. But they never would, even during the most heated row.

You've laughed with them for thousands of hours of your life.

Travelled across the globe with them.

Know where the chocolate is kept at their parents house.

Sometimes when you're wtith them you feel s heated glow that tickles your spine, like you've drunk a bottle of wine. It's comfort and giggles and overwhelming emotion all at the same time.

Sometimes you want to smack them or tell them, to shut. the fuck. up. And you let them know. Sometimes you miss not seeing them EVERY SINGLE DAY, like at school.

The best foundations of your adult self.

Thoughts Too Much

Thoughts Too Much

Thoughts, thoughts all the time, inescapable...

Locked inside, but so loud.

Thinking not sleeping, sleeping while walking,

So loud.

People don’t see, don’t know, don’t ask.

Externally calm and poised.

The chic woman on the tube with the slightly red hands.

The house on the hill, the door never opened.

Boxes and boxes of stuff, endless phone calls.

Rituals that become your life,

So, so loud.

Nonsensical, but it doesn’t stop you, does it.

Disney films and sleeping pills and late night conversations,

Might placate them for a while.

Self-medicating stills them for a while, but is inadvisable,

They return louder and more detailed than before.

Fighting them every way they come, vehemently fighting them.

But this doesn’t help in the end.

In the end, you just have to let them go...

Don’t fight anymore and the volume turns down.

Until you learn to mute them.

#The100DayProject, #100DaysofWriting, Day 16

What Books Made You?

Yesterday, I went to Bailey's Women's Prize For Fiction and Grazia present #ThisBookClub Live, a panel discussion by five notable women and readers on the two books that they believe had the most influence on their careers and lives and shaped them to be who they are today. The discussion was part of a week's celebration of reading and authors in the run-up to the announcement of the winner of the Women's Prize for Fiction on Wednesday.

Chaired by renowned author, Kate Mosse, the panel was made up of columnist and author, Grace Dent; Shami Chakrabarti, Director of Liberty and chair of the 2015 Baileys Women’s Prize for Fiction judges; Polly Vernon, Grazia columnist and author of Hot Feminist; Aminatta Forna, award-winning author and Jane Shepherdson Chief Executive of Whistles.

The discussion was lively, the women were intelligent, insightful and a joy to listen to; I was especially spellbound by Aminatta Forna who I must admit I had never read and who has the most mellifluous voice that I ever did hear and smart, lucid opions (must buy her book). Grace Dent is delightfully witty as you would expect from her columns and Polly Vernon is part-girly, part fierce-honesty. Shami Chakrabarti I love, I have heard talk before and she must be one of the wittiest lawyers that has lived... (sorry cheap lawyer joke there). Jane Shepherson, an incredibly impressive business woman came across warm and bright. Kate Mosse, was just well, the narrator/chair that charmed us all, as she does in her books.

Of the two books they chose each, I had read four of ten, the rest are on my reading list now... I will list these at the bottom.

However, what the discussion really left me with, was what books had affected me in the same way? What literature had shaped my life in some way.... obviously there are numerous, but as 60% of these were wiped out of their stipulations, due to the fact that they were written by men, I at least could cut my list a little shorter. Here, after some soul-searching, are my two...

1) Frankenstein, Mary Shelley

Frankenstein was one of the books I chose to write my dissertation on; a ten-thousand word rambling on motherhood, taking in the novels of Mary Wollstonecraft and her daughter, Mary Shelley, as well as Wollstonecraft's pioneering text, A Vindication of the Rights of Women. My dissertation, was not as good as it should of been, crafted in my third year at university where I was a little lost in a spiral of slight depression and - as I now recognise - quite bad OCD.

However, Frankenstein sung out to me when I read it... Billed as a horror story, I thought I would not like it, but in fact, I loved every part of it. The creature's narrative especially, which is written in the most beautiful language thrilled me to the core. Shelley is so gifted in telling the story, but she also teaches through it. She teaches about the danger of unnatural creation, the danger of leaving women by the way-side, the story of nature vs nurture. To me Frankenstein, is a story about a lost child and Shelley herself had an absent mother - dead as she was. With all the impressive themes that the novel delivers, what I most gained from it at the time, I think, was the beauty of language, of description and of narrative. The narratives of the three main protagonists of the novel are all written so differently. She is a wonder storyteller is Shelley.

2) Harry Potter series JK Rowling

Ok, I ummed an ahhed about this second choice, there are novels by Toni Morrison, Sylvia Plath, Margaret Atwood and Alice Walker which all shaped my "womanhood" and how I grew up, how I learnt about feminism and how I learnt about myself. But if we are really looking at books that glare out at me through the years, that I remember and reread. It is this series. From the first book, published when I was 11 to the last which I read proudly at 21, there was ten years of growing up, of fighting with my sister about who got to read the family copy first, of learning. I aged with Harry and Hermione (kick-ass female if ever there was one) and the rest.

There are two main points that I still take from these books, even as I read them now. Firstly Rowling inspires me as a writer because of her ability to tell stories, she is a great story teller, telling tales that span years with multiple characters and plot lines... I envy this and I praise that it can be done so well. 

Secondly, it is the magic. I have always loved the idea of magic existing alongside the humdrum of day-to-day life. Those are the best stories, to me. And at times when I felt adolescent and misunderstood and later when I felt sad and I didn't know why, these stories took me to a world that I wanted to believe was true. Now, older and not wiser and as I still attempt life and still make plenty of mistakes, I like to believe and live in the magic of everyday. And when I read Rowling, she still helps me to remember this.

So tell me please... what books made you who you are?

Books chosen by the panel:

Grace Dent: 

The Pursuit of Love - Nancy Mitford

Station Eleven - Emily St. John Mandel

Shami Chakrabarti

To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee

The Biography of Eleanor Marx - Rachel Holmes

Jane Shepherdson

The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath

Union Street - Pat Barker

Aminatta Forna

The  Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood

All God's Children Need Travelling Shoes - Maya Angelou

Polly Vernon

Lace - Shelley Conran

The Signature of All Things - Elizabeth Gilbert

All available in good book shops and online.

#The100DayProject, #100DaysofWriting, Day 15

Attempting Adulthood

 

Today's post (a day late, soz) is a poem about Attempting Adulthood and how in your late twenties, everyone is at very different stages... I hope you like it. Please comment, share etc x

Attempting Adulthood

Don't wish your life away,
They say.
Don't wait for weekends and wine.
Be happy and balanced and like life all the time.
Go into Monday meetings with grace and a smile,
Lack of caffeine is not a reason to be hostile.
Make sure you exercise at least three times a week, but don't worry about your weight.
Squat, lunge, downward dog and eat a healthy diet, a colourful plate.
Read all sorts of books to nurture your mind.
Keep up with politics and documentaries. Be kind.
Do some charity work, perhaps.
Don't collapse.
Socialise, see art and plays and watch the news,
Don't overdo the booze.
If you're single,
You must mingle .
On Tinder and Happen and Hinge, Oh My.
You'll certainly find the girl or guy.
If you're not, then keep up with your mates
Inbetween the convos on mortgage rates.
What's your five year plan?
You've lost your tan.
She's lost her phone again, she's gone a bit wild;
Her ex is in Singapore having someone's love-child.
I can't really afford to go out tonight;
They exchange in the next fortnight.
I'm thinking of sacking it all in to go travelling
My life is unravelling...
You're still young-ish... well not old yet
Too old for drugs and student debt.
Tick-tock,
Biological clock.
I'm bored of the city, but I like the culture and food at 3am
When do you ever use them?
I have a cleaner but shop at Asda and Primark.
I won't queue for clubs anymore, but I'm still scared of the dark.
Nothing's solved with drink, aimless spending or a late-night screw.
As the cliche says, just do what's right for you.
**

#The100DayProject #100DaysofWriting, Day 10

On Crushing All Over Taylor Swift

 

So I realised today that I have developed a full on eleven year-old fangirl obsession with Taylor Swift, I am literally obsessed with everything she does and everybody she hangs out with and I am sure it is NOT NORMAL for somebody my age. The thing is she's just so cool and so supportive of woman and lovely and wonderfully dressed and yet she is also a bit of a - what the Americans would call - a dork. I'd say a loser, geek or weirdo. If we're talking a American Pie / Mean Girls world here, she's definitely not the cheerleader, she's the band geek or the art freak. And that I think is why I love her, because she's interesting and slightly odd as well as having super cool clothes, great songwriting skills and a crew of BFFs that I would kill to hangout with. As a fellow former loserish kid who liked learning, I can feel it. So it's ok to be in your late-twenties and love her... Right?

Here's some of evidence of why I do

1) Clothes

Ok, the girl can dress, but she couldn't always. Back in the early days of T, it was all Cinderella white lace and little house on the praire and all a bit "Y'all coming to milk the cows on the farm and then Jim-Bob's taking me to thr prom..". Now, though she's found her groove and she's ice cool without having to be "LOOK AT ME" which so many other female celebrities are. 

Also, she doesn't have a tendency to carefully curate her cleavage or let her arse enter first which other young women do (not that I am against this, gurl can do what she wants). But I like the fact that Taylor turns heads without needing to compete for nudity levels.. except those famous legs of course (see below).

2) Songs

Look, I'm a fan of Country music, so I've pretty much liked all her albums but 1989 is just so good. So catchy and with clever lyrics. I mean the tumblr generation freak out about them, because they feel like she is WRITING THEIR LIVES OMFG, and isn't that what the best songwriters do. 

Even my 21-year-old DJ brother admits to thinking it's "a really great pop album"... Watch out for the upcoming premiere of the video for new single Bad Blood, which features many of her equally rad BFFs Cara, Ellie, Lena et al.. speaking of which...

3) Her Woman Crew (& Ed)

Taylor's friendship circle causes me to feel 80% "Go Women" and 20% seething jealousy that I will never get to hang out with them. From supermodels like Karlie Kloss and Cara Delevingne to other popbaes like Ellie Goulding and Lorde, to my idol Lena Dunham and loads of Americans that I know vaguely from reading Sugarscape (sue me). She seems to be constantly hanging out with achingly successful young women. And it seems it is often she who extends the hand of friendship through fangirling over them herself, with no need for a "cool" face on it. And who wouldn't want to be her friend tbh, who wouldn't want to be part of that kind of ambitious, supportive, whirpool of women power where everyone is -like- free to be themselves -you know.. 

Plus there's the fact she's got Mr Sheeran - the nicest and most talented man in Britain (and the world probs) on speed dial as her best man-friend. (I'm mean I'm hoping they'll get married tbh)

4) She's So Bloody Nice

Taylor's treatment of her fan's is legendary, from throwing pre-album launch parties to "Swiftmas" to surprising them out of the blue. She also was also named the "Most Charitable Celeb" of 2014 by DoSomething.Org for her work for feminist causes and New York City public schools. She has, as Glamour recently wrote, made Nice cool again.. and thank goodness for that.

5) Legs

She has the most enviable legs in the business. Full stop. And she's over 5'10, which is so refreshing in the celeb land of minature people.

6) Her List of Ex-boyfriends and How She "Deals" When it's Over

I really don't think women should be judged by who or how many people they date. However, Taylor's got an enviable list of exes and the fact that her relationships with famous men are splashed all over the papers and then when the relationship ends, the lovely media seem to relish in her heartbreak is part of her journey. This is because of how she deals with it, rarely mentioning it in interviews and instead pouring it out in her songs, which to be honest is how we'd all like to get over relationships if we could isn't it... purge the issues and all. Her song "Shake it Off" says it all really, "I go on too many dates, but I can't make 'em stay.. At least that's what people say mmm, that's what people say mmm." People are currently saying that she's dating super star DJ Calvin Harris. Good luck to them; it takes a real good man to keep up with her.

7) Haters Gonna Hate

A lot of people seem to hate Taylor online and off and she has dealt with any hate in the most decourous and graceful manner. She has even recently made up with Kanye West after he stormed the stage at the 2009 Grammy's to claim Beyonce deserved the award and not her. When Lorde called her "too perfect" in an interview, she proceeded to make her her best friend.

Mostly she says, she avoids reading most things that are written about her, because it is not said by her fans and it is not relevant to her life.

"The little I am exposed to hurts my feelings. The only things I can really control are my songs and my behavior. The rest? If I focused on it, that would lead to insanity."

8) Business Woman

Nobody should underestimate Taylor, for all the sweet words and the niceness and the cats, she is one of the most successful women in the world right now. She is a steely business woman, but she has done it without trampling all over other people, another score for feminism, she is destroying the belief that women must fit into the patriarchal definition of success to make it.

Her net worth is estimated at $200 million dollars. She has made shrewd moves like not only copyrighting her entire lyrics but also key phrases in her songs like "this sick beat". Her music is not available through free-streaming powerhouse Spotify as she believes it is unfair on the musicians and artists who make the music to give it away. When her record label were unsure about her making a pop record, she went ahead an made 1989 anyway, because it was what she wanted to do. She is also a social media powerhouse. She has cultivated her own brand and her own business and stayed true tp herself whilst doing it. (*high five emojis).

9) She's a bit of a "Loser" Really

Another example of staying true to herself is that she doesn't try to look cool or change her natural enthusisasm for life in order to fit in to some sexy-starlet stereotype. Half her instagram feed is videos of her cats.Of course she is a beautiful, successful woman and that brings with it a certain status, but she is always willing to be the geek.

She loves cooking and making things and staying in and she has never been pictued falling out of a club. There's no whiff of drug or alcohol rumours and she loves her Mum, who prior to her recent Cancer diagnosis has been on every tour with her. The thing is with Taylor, she's not anti-cool, she's just made it cool to be nice, to be inclusive, to support others, to love a lot and to have an open heart. And this most of all, is why I bloody love the girl. If only we were all this wise at 25.

"Well, I just don't place much priority on looking cool, and I think at 25, I'm finally OK with feeling that. I've said this before. I think there's this priority on having this persona of being edgy or cool or bored. And those things are all sexy. All those things are chic, when you seem not to care about anything other than yourself. And I just don't buy into it. I'm really excited by lots of things. I think enthusiasm is the best protection. It can protect you from anything. And I don't feel bored by any of this, so I don't strive to look bored by any of this." (c) Glamour 2015

Day 8 of #The100DayProject #100DaysofWriting

None of the photos are mine.

Gratitude Today

Today I do not feel inspired to write at all. I have flicked through The Writer’s Block and nothing is jumping out at me and I have even delved into the depths of my computer hard drive and opened unfinished pieces of writing from the last 10 years... None of it has piqued my inspiration.

And so today I'm writing a gratitude list. Every book I have ever read about life or how to live it better suggests doing this daily and a grateful heart is a powerful thing, as I previously mentioned in another post for The 100 Day Project.

My Gratitude Today

I am grateful for my parents, who have supported me in everything I have ever wanted to do. Who know when to question me, when to soothe me and when to leave me alone. I am especially grateful for the conversations we have now I am an adult; I cherish those conversations and sometimes feel joy to the point of tears whilst having them.

And my siblings who are the only people that shared my upbringing and who have all taught me different things about being human. My quiet, kind, elder-younger sister, who has the patience of a saint and the stubborn nature of an ass. Who has stood by me and looked after me when I’ve got myself into stupid situations, always willing to help and never needing the limelight.

And my middle younger sister who was born “special” and has taught everyone around her so much. She has made me feel at my most angry and upset and embarrassed and ashamed over the years, but I am grateful for it all. Now she has inspired a novel, the writing of which is taking me on a personal journey.

My little brother is at his best one of the most charismatic people I know. He is brave and thoughtful and brash and funny. We could talk for hours even though sometimes our differences in opinion cause me to have to physically walk away from a conversation.

I am grateful for my peer-group friends, old and newer. Mostly women, but some men who have seen every side of me and loved it. Laughter to the point that I have lost control of my bladder, long conversations, short conversations, introspective conversations, sad conversations. Tears, some that are so good. Soul-buzzing sunny holidays and long car journeys and rainy days in the pub, where I don't stop smiling. Arguments and shouting on occasion which can sometimes feel even better because they make you realise how well you know each other and the sunshine after a storm is even better.  The ones that ask for my advice because they really want it and I give it to them from my heart with no ego involved. I love that they make me feel so comfortable that I do this.

And hundreds of other older friends and family friends and relatives, all who give me something. Many who I could talk to for hours.

I am grateful for books, that I am lucky enough to be able to read them. I am grateful for the things they have taught me and continue to teach me and that they will always be my solace.

I am grateful that I have a body that works and is healthy, even though I don’t think it is perfect. I am also thankful that I have recently discovered yoga, as I believe this has changed my attitude towards my body.

I am grateful for the many places I have visited. For sunshine, for mountains, for green. For the power of natural beauty and the secrets and history of cities. I am grateful for the places I have lived, for London, for Surrey, New York, Hong Kong, Canada and Newcastle. Also for the places I have not yet been which keep me enthralled with the world.

I am grateful for the sensory pleasures in life that I am lucky enough to be able to experience every day. The taste of good food, the warmth of wine, bed, flowers, candles, baths, music... all the music.

I am grateful to all the relationships and lovers I have had, for they have all taught me something, even if it is what I don’t want.

I am grateful to be discovering spirituality and my beliefs.

I am so thankful for my house and my comfortable living situation. I love the beautiful things in it.

I am grateful for theatre and art and all forms of other people’s expressions and observations of the world.

I am grateful that I loved school.

I am grateful that I can choose what to do with my day.

I am grateful that I do not live in an environment of fear or a country where I have no voice.

I am thankful for social media and online communities, because they show me even more of the world and introduce me to wonderfully creative people.

I am grateful that I can write this...

And many more things.