Poetry has been the centre of this blog so far. I find myself thinking more and more about our society’s attitudes and responses to...

Recently I've been talking to so many people, trying to change how dementia is seen, treated, experienced. It feels urgent. This is for...

There's a strong sense of gratitude right now. A year after the diagnosis I'm living in a way I could never have imagined then, around...

Pippi Longstocking is a guide. She sits in the porch, welcoming and wise at the threshold. Sometimes it feels like there's no choice....

Recently I was invited to write for a feature with this title. I found the title very difficult, and the poem starts with anger, but it...

I've been writing about the warrior. Here I'm writing about the hurt. Maybe they're not so far apart. I get stuck. I know I’m stuck when...

People have asked about Paris, hoping for a delighted answer. I hoped to be able to give one too, but the trip wasn't quite like that....

I've just been to Paris for a week - my first attempt at using support to travel. I'll maybe write more about it when I've recovered!...

This lovely pot was made by Roderick Hill in response to fish strawberry wasp. And the poem was written many years ago, about Joy Allen....

The Old Courtesan (La Belle qui fut heaulmière) Auguste Rodin. I promised I would never choose flat shoes or elastic-waisted trousers or...

If I could stop the world turning, it would stop now, and now, and now, and now, for ever. Now squats unsettled on the growing pile of...

I've been volunteering for some research work, doing questionnaires and interviews, and on Monday I talked to Claudio Di Lorito, at...

It's not as if there's been nothing going on, and it's not as if there's been nothing to say, but it's been a while since I last posted...

Charlotte Gann and I have been talking/writing about this writing and project, and the result is published here. Thanks to Charlotte for...

Imagine this. There’s something wrong, but it’s not clear what that is. You miss things, lose things, forget. You used to be organised,...

A new year - a new day is enough to be going on with. Another stepping stone in this change-river, another noticing in another moment....

This is the picture of the Balfron Tower in London, by Simon Terrill, which is mentioned in the poem. My son Benn was Project Manager on...

Kate was such a joy. We went to the Hay Festival, to Bruges, to Paris, to Cornwall, to poetry festivals and exhibitions, Akram Khan and...

Mind full of past. Dust collections in corners. Last year’s spider webs. Last century’s bus tickets. Trip over fabric piles that might...

The second image is from a quilt I admired, and the first is something that came from it.