How we talk about children's cancer matters. It’s easy to worry about saying the right thing, the wrong thing, and often people end up saying nothing at all, which is the worst of all. The language used usually involves wars, battles, fighting, bravery. In many ways it’s odd. We never say a child lost their battle against an articulated lorry, but cancer it seems is up for the fight.
George Michael was mine and all of these other people are merely charlatans hired in as professional mourners. They had no business intruding on my grief.
I’ll be the first to admit that my blog posts are patchy. I often have several, half written, which never get finished. Today, however, gives me an excuse to merge 3 half written posts into one, and I like to see that sort of thing as a sign of something. This week has been one … Continue reading Dad, Brexit and an end to fear
There. I've said it. There is no place for joy at Christmas. That is not to say that there is no place for happiness, of course there is, but joy is asking too much. There has been a tension in the air over the past couple of weeks that is almost visible, not so much … Continue reading Christmas is not at home to Joy
Nigella and I go back a long way. By way of explanation, my Dad bore a striking resemblance to Nigel Lawson and my Mum decided that Nigella, back when she wasn’t that famous, was a good role model for me. She used to ring me at University to tell me when she was doing the … Continue reading We Need To Talk About Nigella
Life has been busy recently and there has been little time for writing. There has been a wealth of material ….. Thatcher, Katie Hopkins, Michael Gove. All the usual suspects. However something has happened this week which has stopped me in my tracks. A friend of mine died. We were not close, and indeed hadn’t … Continue reading Time, which is all we have