In Between the Showers

In between the showers, I slipped out for a walk. With an eye to the sky, I stepped quickly through the long grass to the road, my shoes already damp and covered with last weeks cuttings. No car passed me, this early on a Sunday morning. Leaving a house full of sleeping teenagers I revelled …

Busy, Busy – Great Things are Coming

When I started blogging I was firing on all cylinders, posting at least two posts weekly, inspiration was flowing and the words flew fast and furiously onto the page. As of late life has been getting in the way of this. Family things; my daughter's wedding looms fast round the corner, there are exams soon …

Being Authentic

  I want to live an authentic existence. There I’ve said it, it’s out there. The expression of my truth. I have read a lot of self- help books in the last ten years. They all talked about the “authentic self” and I often had trouble understanding the concept. I envisioned my authentic self as …

Rough Winds – An Early Morning May Day Walk

    I took an early morning May Day walk. This being a Bank Holiday, I was the only one up and it was easy to slip out the side patio without fuss and  disturb no-one except the sleeping black cat who lay in a perfect coil on the deck. She raised her head in …

Taking the Path Less Travelled – An Easter Walk

      Easter Sunday was overcast, a grey miserable day that made outdoor activity impossible. For once I was happy to forego the usual walk around the lake, after a feed of roast dinner and much chocolate. The reason -  I was crippled with the most hideous hangover, having attended my own leaving-work party …

Percolating Thoughts – A series of essays on Motherhood float to the surface

  Mother's Day came and went and in the days following, thoughts began to percolate resulting in a series of essays on Motherhood. What follows is an introduction piece. I hope you enjoy it and as always, I welcome and appreciate your comments. I became a mother at the raw age of twenty-one. A long …

Poems in The Sand and What Poetry Means To Me

  I was inspired to write this piece a few days ago for World Poetry Day. I was reminded of the fact by a Facebook past memory that popped up when I first logged on. A badly shot photograph, taken two years earlier of a few lines of one of my favourite poems – Advent …

C’Mon In The Water’s Freezing

“The Sea bites She gnaws with teeth Of ice, and holds me Down below Beneath The multi-layered reach Her pretty petticoats Ruffled in foaming froth Flowing forward. Ever reaching Stretch and pound. Circle round Scratching ragged nails upon the pebble shore”   Excerpt from Cold Water by F Hogan. March 2017   The sea was …

An Ageing Tumbleweed – Watch Me Drift.

Writing is like a muscle,  it requires action and use. Without constant attention it atrophies and the mind becomes a stagnant place, bubbling over with random thoughts and ideas, a maelstrom of misplaced content all competing for prominence. Art without structure and containment breeds chaos. My mind has been taken over of late, under new …

Sometimes a Lemsip Just Doesn’t Cut It

I feel so sick, I might actually die. My head seems to have swollen to the size of the Elephant Man and yet when passing the mirror my reflection appears as usual, perhaps paler, with red rimmed eyes and a nose like Rudolph the reindeer, not to mention the hair falling in Medusa-like strings in all its unwashed …