I don’t know about you but I feel overwhelming pressure to come up with novel stories or write about points of view I haven’t read elsewhere. With the web saturated with opinions and brilliant writers, where do we fit in if we feel the same way as someone else?

Any…

My breath stops, an audible ‘yelp’ escapes my lips. My husband, passing the door, sticks his head around to check I’m okay. ‘Yes’, I reply, ‘It’s just the cold shower.’ He backs out, looking slightly confused, slightly concerned.

Here in the UK, our summer seas rarely reach over 18°C/64°F but…

Last night I slept with my husband
(as in, shared a bed)
For the first time
(well, in seven years)

Every family figures
What’s best for them
But for me and him
Our hearts couldn’t explain
To small hearts who love us
That we would be next to them
Between:
The hours of 7am and 7pm
But no…

Ever since I can remember I have felt odd for having many different parts to me. I didn’t seem to fit into the mould that others had been poured from. I had odd bits that stuck out at strange angles. …

She enjoyed words,
but it was in their mixing and styling,
in the imagery they could conjure
or the rhythms they could conduct,
that she fell in love with writing.

The delicate fondling of feeling and idea,
a getting-familiar process, so as to find
the perfect words to caress their forms,
to do…

Nutrition was not a science shared with me over mealtimes growing up.

My mother did all of the cooking in our home. Dinner served promptly at 6 pm, timed so my dad was home from work, changed, and glass of wine in hand. Meals were square, and rotated between our…