For a long, long time, I couldn’t tell one tree from another, not even on walks in the English countryside where I came of age, and I’m afraid the confusion in my life didn’t stop there. It was all uncomfortably like that poor guy in Hamlet, the prince who was having so much trouble with … More Knowledge is power when it comes to MS
When Zim and I are stuck in our cabins back home, Mr Mark takes pictures (like this one, above) on his travels for us.
They’re all so sleek and clean and shiny, these new feller-me-lads in my life, and they’re using it to lure me in, seduce me, make me fall for them and their glossy good looks. Even just joking about falls feels wrong, the dratted MS has already had me crash-landing inelegantly onto quite enough stony pavements, … More Falling for someone else
Is it just me, or is birdsong more jubilant post lockdown?Maybe it’s because I haven’t been outdoors much, any birdsong at all feels jubilant, almost triumphant, after surviving the winter. … More About the great railings cull…
How can you make friends with a piece of dirty old metal, covered with grubby fabric and webbing? … More Me and Mr Zimm
Helen Fowler Writer 