I'm writing this sat in my car at the entrance of the baby garden in my local cemetery. I would be sat inside the bushed walls of the garden, was it not for the typical English weather. Most people I have spoken to about cemeteries - this may seem like an odd conversation topic, but they become… Continue reading Wind, rain, storm, or shine.
There comes a moment when you suddenly realise that this is it. This is it. This is my life. It will be my life, for the rest of my life. It's been a year and it hasn't done that 'thing' that people promised me it would do - it hasn't got better; it hasn't become easier. The… Continue reading The post-play blues.