It’s your birthday today. 52. That’s how many candles you would be blowing out but he has to do it without you now. The first time ever and he won’t get to speak to you on the 14th April, a day you both shared together in some way for your entire lives. The anniversary of when you both entered this crazy planet, you first of course. Always did have to be the first, didn’t you? 

We all feel a little lost without you and I have missed you more than ever over the past few months, I want to talk to you about my job and the situation before. I miss you so much, it still hurts six months later. I  still tear up when I hear that song by ELO and it’s crazy because it’s one of the most upbeat songs. 

 You enriched my life and so I would have loved to show you that on today of all days. But you’ve gone hopefully to a better place, and I know it did it just after you left but I’m going to do the poem thing again. 

Please know that you’ve been in my thoughts all day and I hope you are spending it with the others who have left and who love and adore you wandering around blissful scenery. 

I’ll look after him and the rest for you, I promise. This day will never be the same for him and he doesn’t know how to feel. But we’ll toast you with a glass of red or scotch and I’ll wear some outfit that you can question or laugh at from up there. Yet your favourite shirt was yellow… and that is not a colour for everyone despite what Vogue is currently telling everyone.



I’ve not written for a little while because I’ve felt I needed a break mainly for three reasons 

  1. Because my inspiration was running a little dry and I wanted to spend some time reading in order to improve my own work 
  2. Because I have been focusing on short stories and a basis for a couple of novels
  3. Because someone wasn’t too happy with what I had been writing, I normally never usually write about people I know at the time but with this one, I just wanted to let out and I never thought that person would actually read them. I have now deleted all the posts about solely them now because I never want to hurt anyone with my writing, my pen is not a weapon and I do not wish to use it that way. There is just one left about that situation because it is the one thing that hurt and offended me the most and I stand by that post and those actions being something that I would never ever do and although I can just about forgive those accusations and be friends with that person now, I still feel the message is important.

 I have returned home and feel a little inspired again, and some things have touched me more than I anticipated. We write because we have something to say, that’s what makes a writer, we feel a compulsion to say something with a pen so I’m going to continue to do that. 
Writing is what I’ve done since I learnt how to, it’s what I’ve always chosen to do given the option and I was so scared about showing it to anyone but with the encouragement of a few friends, I decided to start this blog and an Instagram for writing and the response form people I don’t know and my own friends has been great so I’ll definitely continue posting and should be back on the blogging bandwagon asap! 

Saturday Morning

Waking up, me chirpy and annoying and you groggy pulling me in to you so close I could barely breathe,

I’d make one of my silly faces or something to make you laugh and ease you in to the day,

Pulling  my pyjamas on, I’d get up and put on a pot of coffee,

Then I’d make either pancakes or bacon eggs, it was the days before Avo on sourdough, you’d come and cheekily slap my bum and ‘help’ me finish breakfast

The best days were when there would be a 12 pm kick off and we’d stay pyjama clad to watch North London’s finest game on your 50 inch screen.

My legs over yours, skin on skin, cold bottle of lager in our hands. Still dressed in my pyjama t- shirt and shorts, placing bets over the score, the loser would buy tonight’s dinner and the winner would decide where.

We’d play fight over the remote at half time and argue over what to catch 15 minutes of, normally we’d settle on Hollyoaks repeats.

I’d pray our team would win so you’d be in a good mood, I’d check the score even when you’d gone to a game to decipher whether or not you’d need cheering up,

We’d go for dinner in the evening, you were a chef but adored Nando’s, occassionally if you were up early on Sunday, it would be a takeaway in front of the TV and now I kinda miss those days, where I could wake up with someone on weekends.