Sometimes it is best to leave

The chains that lock up freedom

Though said to be for our  protection

Blind eyes see through the deception

As the light shines

Into the darkness of evil

Presented by another name

Our souls were not meant to be chained

Nor our heart’s love

Freedom awaits us in diverse places

Where the sky meets the earth

And we dwell in the place of liminality

Where the veil is rent in two

Breaking the chains of earth


Yesterday we ended up at Black Bank, a wide open space with big skies.  In front of us as we sat, was the hugest open field you could ever imagine.  Lincolnshire, England.  The Harvest is done and the fields are ploughed now, ready to be planted with something again.  From emptiness to eventual fullness.  But I relived beautiful times there.  Like the time the ospreys stayed for a week on their way back to warmer climes.  Two flew very low over my head one day, to my sheer amazement and delight. I could see their beautiflul colours underneath them.  Such beautiful birds.
And I remembered the four crows we once saw doing a dance in the field.  So funny.
But we had gone there from the little church where I like to go to think.  It now has chains inside it, to prevent you going places in it. It is so tiny anyway that eight people seem to fill it.  So with the chains as well now, it has a horrible feel.  The locked door for most of the week feels terrible too.  Not how a church should be.  Then, the other day there were Notices everywhere.  You weren’t allowed to do anything at all.  Plus there was a QR Code on the gatepost of the church.  We had had enough.
The wide open spaces of Black Bank, where the birds can fly free revived me. No chains there. Just pure freedom.  
I do not think that God, if there is one, wears chains!  Or IS chained!


I wrote this back in early July. Nothing much has changed except that they have stopped the fountain again, and everyone is wearing masks. There is little smiling going on, or relaxing outside Costas, though the tables are there. No takers! What a weird summer. Let’s hope for better days!

I sat today in the shopping mall
The music was blasting out
As if to say things were normal again
Lulling us into a stupor

The music was blasting out
The fountain was doing a dance
Lulling us into a stupor
In front of an empty Costas

The fountain was doing a dance
It didn’t have an audience
In front of an empty Costas
One or two people passed by

It didn’t have an audience
Kids were in short supply
One or two people passed by
Faces set emotionless

Kids wre in short supply
Everyone socially distanced
Faces set emotionless
Grassy banks eerily empty 

Everyone socially distanced
Shopping matter of fact
Grassy banks eerily empty
Queues snaking round the mall

Shopping matter of fact
No one laughing and talking
Queues snaking round the mall
Flower shop hardly blooming

No one laughing and talking
Even in summer colours
Flower shop hardly blooming
Lavender dying down

Even in summer colours
Everyone’s face was drab
I sat today in the shopping mall
Music was blasting out


You walk in ghostly silence
In this garden of love
Where eternity falls from the skies
Wrapping us in its glory
Though in body you are not here
We know we need not bodies
For love eternal to thrive
I see the trees and feel the breeze
And know that it is you
I hear your voice
And feel your gentle caress
And know that all is well
In this garden of love


The door to eternity was locked that day
As a deadly disease stalked the land
Grief filled my heart and my joy was gone
All in a moment while little lambs played
Green were their pastures black was my earth
I felt that day that my grave had been dug

Is eternity still behind the door?

I had been there so many times before
Seen inside the light in the dark
Now it seemed that all light had gone
And the world had become a fearful place
Many were dying and many more would
While eternity dwelt behind the locked door
No hand held out to help them through
The door to compassion locked even in death

Is eternity still behind the door?

No answer comes to the question asked
The whole wide world is turned upside down
Many more doors have now been locked
All we can do is live with the pain
And hope that relief will soon come to our world
And disease no longer stalk the land

Is eternity still behind the door?


In the churchyard
Graves stand tall
Angels guarding stand

Peace pervades air
Laden with grief
Sighing a goodbye

Death defies us
Life answers back
Its own victory

The door opens
Crossing the threshold
Into past times

I hear voices
Distant but clear
Speaking their truth

A bell sounds
It is time
Venite adoremus dominum


I have made two posts today that are not perhaps the most cheerful of posts. Maybe not too nice to read. But they are LIFE. Life for some people anyway. I called my Blog “Blind Wilderness” because I am blind, and in a wilderness. A wilderness is harsh. Freezing cold at night and boiling hot during the day. No soft pillows or nice cosy blankets.

So, this morning, I am afraid in order to be true to myself, and honest, I had to post about my own harsh place.

I will post some happier things later, hopefully. More restful things. Because in the wilderness there are some things that manage to survive the harsh conditions. And there are those of us in life who manage, somehow or other, to survive the harshest of conditions and assaults. And just when you thought it was hard, it gets even harder!

So, this is kind of an apology for posting some harsh truths this morning. There will be some happier stuff later.

CANCER – Was it back? How is the pandemic affecting you?

Yesterday was a day of fear for me. Fear that my cancer had taken off again, or that I had a new cancer. It is fairly common for the cancer that I originally had, to make you susceptible to other cancers.

I awoke feeling deathly and sickeningly cold. Yet the house was not cold. I also had a LOT of pain. It was quite early morning, and my husband was still asleep. The cold was just awful, and I knew that I needed to get warm, first and foremost, and then that I had to take some pain killers.

I attempted to find my warm fleecy dressing gown but, being blind and additionally having no feeling in my hands, I could not find it. Neither could I find anything else. I was stumbling blindly around the bedroom, but nothing came to hand. I was feeling sicker and sicker the longer this went on. I was becoming distraught.

I attempted to wake my husband up to help me, and I did manage to wake him up, but he would not help. It was an hour before he would get out of bed and find me something warm to put around me. Then, he finally got my pain killers for me.

This is what being totally dependent is like. No words can describe it. To be at the mercy of other people all the time is horrendous.

I became very afraid of the cancer. Had I developed a new cancer? Was this the old cancer back? I have felt crap for some time now.

This is always the biggest fear of someone who has already had cancer. Either it returning, or a new one starting up.

In this pandemic we cannot even see a doctor. We can speak to a doctor on the phone, but we can’t be examined or looked at. The most that I can do is ask my doctor if there are any other pain killers that I can take.

My frustration at being blind and wheelchair bound and dependent has reached an all time high. And yesterday the pandemic produced a deep depression in me. Will we ever be out of it? What is going to happen to our world? It is easy, when sick, to feel hopeless.

How is the pandemic affecting you?


Here I lie with you
In the rubble of a life gone wrong
In the lush green fields I will find my rest
In the company of one who loves
Even in the valley of shadows
Beside the tinkling waters
That refresh my soul
In the parched desert of my life
Here flowers will bloom again
The thorn become the rose
Here I will sing again
The song of my youth
In this strange land
A foreigner now
With you beside me
Holding me close
The desert will bloom once again


Stuck in an iron box
Hearing the birds singing
Helpless body an empty shell
Paralysed listening to joyful songs
Iron hard impenetrable
Hope dies slowly gasping

Will hope live again

Imprisoned unable to speak
Trying to move dead arms
Chest wall ceasing to rise and fall
Suffocating darkness pressing
Mouth attempts to emit a sound
Voice stuck in throat
Closing around syllables
Breathing almost gone

Will hope live again

Scrabbling on iron walls
Hands leaving a message
Etched with finger nails
Throat loosening
A scream rises
Hits iron walls

Will hope live again


Poised between life and death
The loneliest place on earth
With only yourself and the Universe
Facing the chasm
You feel a pull towards the chasm
Almost magnetic
In a minute all could be gone
You have been here before
But never has it been so real as now
Never so tempting
And in these moments
You think about life
And what it is worth
Still, you are breathing
The breath of life
Yet you are not living
Your body has gone
Sight, limbs, feeling
And the darkness surrounds you
“No Entry” signs all around you
But here is a chasm
Where you can go
To forget all your pain
Where you can be in sweet oblivion
Oh yes, you can enter the chasm
No one can stop you
Why is it so much easier
To enter death
Than to enter life?
You stand poised between life and death
The loneliest place on earth


I reach for my sight
In this dull world of blindness
My heart is on fire

Holding onto clouds
In dreams that see me walking
Skies reach for my hand

One day I might see
The face that is etched with love
Hold me in the dream

I sit by the bridge
Taking me to unknown worlds
Where my eyes have sight

The veil may be torn
I pass into a new world
Where I see clearly


If the trees could talk I wonder what they would say to me
In the silence of the night
In the depths of the darkness I listen
I hear the rowan tree say
“Look, I bear red berries aplenty”
And I think of the shed blood
That saved my life
And I heard the weeping willow say
“Listen, I am weeping for your pain”
I hear the sturdy oak say
“See how strong I am. You can be strong too”
I hear the towering poplar say
“You can stand tall too”
And I hear them all join together in a symphony of love
Hearing me weep
Making me strong
Helping me grow


They kept getting pregnant
The teachers I mean
First there was Mrs. Saunders
The sarcastic French teacher
Then it was Mrs. Rogers
The Maths teacher
Then it was Mrs. Armstrong
The Cookery teacher
They didn’t get in trouble for it
But the kids did
Like Kathy Lambert
She’d been off school for a few weeks
“Kathy Lambert
Why have you been off school for so long?”
“Gingivitis Sir. Look, in my mouth.”
The class was regaled with a full account of what gingivitis was
“Sir, that’s not what’s wrong with her.
It’s her other end
She’s pregnant.”
Then giggling
Kathy went down on the floor
And hid under her desk
Everyone looked
It was unmistakable now
There was a rather large bump
Down below
Randy Andy piped up
“Sir, she was at that party
The one the Headmaster hauled us all in for”
Kathy was still under her desk
“Get up Kathy,” said Sir,
“Go to the Headmaster’s room.”
That was the last we saw of Kathy
A few of us wondered what gingivitis
Had to do with being pregnant
She had the baby
Came back to show it to us all
Miss Broadbent had taken pity on her
Gave her lessons so she could take her exams
Biology was her best subject
She’s a vet now


Her name was Topsy
And she was always a bit Turvy
Fancied herself as being curvy
Well, we WERE fifteen
There she was
In the washroom
Next to the classroom
Putting makeup on
Looked all white, she did
Strange, with her school knicker green cardi
And there was me
In the washroom
Trying to apply Clearasil
To cover my spots
Blasted spots
Even went to the hospital with them
That was what they gave me
Loads of it
Had to put it on thick
My skin came off
In the washroom
Where Topsy was being all curvy
She had a nice smell
But I smelled of zinc
Bloody zinc
Bloody spots
Being a teenager
Who wanted it?
It was me that got into trouble
Not Topsy Turvy
For putting makeup on
Teacher grabbed me
On my way out
“Lorraine Holden
What are you doing putting makeup on?”
“Please Miss,
It’s Clearasil for my spots”
Miss didn’t care
“Go and wash yourself
This minute”
So I did
Then my face was all red
I looked at Topsy Turvy
And wished I was curvy
Like her
She looked at me
And put her tongue out


A mouse jumps up high in the sky
A camel walks right up my street
An elephant eats red cherry pie

A dog purrs and tickles my thigh
A horse climbs up on my feet
A mouse jumps up high in the sky

A flea asks us the question why
A crocodile jumps and gives me a treat
An elephant eats red cherry pie

A dinosaur squeaks and tells me a lie
A little lamb roars and a wolf starts to bleat
A mouse jumps up high in the sky

A zebra with stripes lies down in the rye
A bird perches and neighs on a stalk of wheat
An elephant eats red cherry pie

A parrot coos and then starts to cry
A polar bear melts in the summer heat
A mouse jumps up high in the sky
An elephant eats red cherry pie


“Please Sir Margaret’s swallowed her pen top,”
Everyone looked at Margaret
Was she going to die?
She seemed to be making nothing of it
As if you swallow your pen top every day
“Forgot to have my breakfast Sir,” she said
Cool cat I thought
But then she started to baulk
“Sir Margaret’s choking” shouted Rex
The one who banged on the desk all the time
Thinking he was the best drummer in the world
Margaret had gone a funny shade
A bit kind of bluish
“Take her out” said Sir
Three of them did it
Took her to the Headmistress
Came back the end
“Is she dead?” asked Peter Pidd
“No she’s gone to hospital” said Randy Andy
Mr. Saunders was getting a bit fed up by now
We’d got a long way from “Paradise Lost”
No one was ever sure we’d ever found it in the first place
“Turn to your books” he shouted
I was on the front row
Right in front of him
The brown paper cover had fallen off my “Paradise Lost”
“Lorraine Holden why isn’t your text book covered?”
“It WAS Sir’ I replied angrily
“Well get another one on” shouted Mr. Saunders
I spent the rest of the lesson pouting
Randy Andy kept prodding me in the back
“STOP doing that” shouted Mr. Saunders looking at Randy Andy
“What Sir, I wasn’t doing anything”
I pouted a bit more
What was this damned Paradise thing anyway?
Just then Margaret walked back in
“What are you doing back?” snapped Mr. Saunders
“Sir it came back up before I got to hospital
“Well sit back down in your seat then” said Mr. Saunders
Margaret obliged then started hiccuping
The bell rang
It was obvious that Paradise would have to wait for that day


Oh dear I’ve made a mess! I was looking at Referrers, below the counties where viewers had come from, and there was one that said “reader” and another below it that said, I THINK, but can’t remember for sure. I accidentally clicked on 3 dots, and ended up putting those Google viewers into spam. HELP. I didn’t want to put ANYBODY into Spam. Please help me to get them out.

Sent from my iPad


October always was a weird month
What with witches and ghoulies
1962 was weirder than ever
The world
On the verge
Of nuclear war
Or so we thought
Jokes at lunch time
About not getting home from school
Taking to our nuclear bunkers
That we hadn’t got
But maybe
Just maybe
The school shed might protect us
We laughed
We joked
But inside
We were scared
Shitting ourselves
I remember it
Sitting in the classroom
In the middle of French
Staring out of the window
Not with it at all
But lost in some reverie
Of never seeing my parents again
We were all going to be blown to smithereens
Before the afternoon was out
Who cared about French
When the whole world was going to die
And there I was
In my reverie
When suddenly
The words rang out
“Lorraine Holden what are you doing
Why are you not paying attention?”
How could I say “I’m scared Miss”
She was a brute
The French teacher
Surely she should have known
We were all there shitting ourselves
This was it
The world in nuclear war
All over some bloody missiles
Not that we understood it
Not really
I got Detention
For staring out of the window
In fear
No one was talking
Laughing or giggling in class
It was deadly silent
As we all waited


The door banged loud
As the wind caught it
Wrenched my arm
Just like my heart
All through an oboe
All had been well
Until the oboe
I loved him you see
Or I thought I did
Mr. Bent Legs
The Music Teacher
Had eight kids he did
Well he must have liked sex then
I’d only just found out about it
Sex I mean
And there we were in the school hall
Just me and him
And the bloody oboe
I’d learnt everything I knew from him
About symphonies
And orchestras
About cadences and crescendos
And bloody oboes
And that was the one thing
I could not master
And it broke it up
The love affair
I was to have been his prize musician
No other school had an oboist
But I let him down
The reeds kept breaking
And now so was the love affair
As the wind caught the door
And wrenched it from my hand
As I stomped away from him
Thinking about his eight kids
And his poor wife


There they were sat behind me
Anne and Gillian
Dressed in school knicker green
As we all were
Only some were greener than others
Especially when it came to apples
And men blinded by gas
Writhing in agony
Coughing blood
But there they were
“Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori”
De-core ‘em
Little green ones
Oh what giggles
Whilst contemplating the great lie
How sweet and honourable it is
To die for one’s country
The giggling seemed inane
Just like the lie
Whilst shock waves hit me
Of what war was really like
In my mind the knife was poised
To de – core ‘em


So there we were in the classroom
Waiting for Geography to start
I was in the middle on the left
Ginger haired Stephen was nearer the front
Suddenly there was a commotion at the back
Jenny had been sick on the floor
She didn’t seem bothered
Not like I would have been
She didn’t even really look ill
But they took her out anyway
In came Mr. Rogers
Up went myriad hands and shouting
“Please Sir, Jenny’s been sick,”
Mr. Rogers just carried on
Jenny had gone anyway
I looked at ginger haired Stephen at the front
Decided to chance it
Wrote a note saying I liked him
Passed it surreptitiously to Frances
With another note asking her to give the first one to Stephen
Soon, a note came back
I looked, whilst Mr. Rogers was writing on the blackboard
“I love you,” it said
What? He loved me, in the middle of Geography
When we were learning all about China
And then
Peter Pidd started up
“Please Sir, in Alaska they have those,”
And he went on about some fish or other
He knew all about Alaska
Because instead of being given Detention for being rude
He had been given a week to learn all about Alaska
I looked at my note saying “I love you”
And decided I didn’t like ginger hair


Inside the little church the other day when we managed to get in (it has since been locked again) there were some flowers in a beautiful arrangement with chains around them to stop people getting near them, with a warning about Covid on them. Hardly anyone goes in there because it is so isolated, but it inspired this short poem:

Flowers hid by chains
Remind us we are not free
That disease is lurking


She was PRONE to doing outlandish things. Well, outlandish for an eighty year old. Actually, some of them were not outlandish, but really TERRIBLE, depending on how you looked at it. Like getting banned from the Ford forecourt. She had a thing about cars. That was why she raised her fists to heaven after he died. My Dad I mean. There it was, the bright red car in the drive, and no one to drive it. It wasn’t him that she was bothered about. It was the car. It was UNLIKELY that he would be affected by her anger or even know about it from where he was – or wasn’t – depending on your beliefs – or not! But she had to get it out.

She’d tried to learn to drive herself once – but she’d ended up hurtling down a hill accelerating at a huge rate of knots, towards a tall brick wall. I remember it like it was yesterday. I was in the back, my Dad in the passenger seat, yelling at her to slow down. She couldn’t find the brake, and we thought our end had come. I’m not going to lie and say I wasn’t terrified. I was. But yelling and drama was nothing in our family. It happened every day. But this was something else. Eventually, however, she found the brake, and we began to slow down. Just in time we came to a halt inches from the brick wall. She got out of the car and let Dad take over. Her driving career was over for ever, thank God. But she still had a thing about cars. And the Ford forecourt. She liked to pit her wits against the salesmen, trying to get the best deal out of them. She prided herself on her business prowess, stating that she should have been a business woman. She became good at getting a good deal out of the salesman, signing up for, and ordering a new car, then going back the next day and finding some loophole to enable her to cancel it. No wonder she got banned.

“Don’t let me ever see you on my forecourt again,” yelled the slick looking salesman, red facedly. My Dad just tailed on behind, with a constant embarrassed look on his face.

I don’t know what it was about cars, particularly red ones, but it is still standing out on the drive now, completely driverless.


Today I greet the darkness once again,
Waking, I walk into the great unknown,
Often, in my heart I cry, wonder when
My life will end, my seeds will all be sown,
So much I cover up, so no one sees
The grief inside this lonely heart of mine,
Temptation draws me everyone to please,
To hide the me that cannot always shine,
I bow to what so many seem to need,
A griefless painless world where no one cries,
Where all are strong in heart and soul and deed,
And sorrow always out the window flies,
Inside my heart is looking for the light
I wander blindly wishing I had sight


It is almost twenty years since my FATHER died. And a cataclysmic event that was. I am still not sure to this day whether I went psychotic or not. But if it was, it was a nice kind of psychotic. My PERSONAL response was to do something absolutely outlandish and risky. Quite out of character for me. Normally I would weigh everything up very carefully and dot every “i” and cross every “t.” But this time, something really got into me. I was like a crazy woman. Some would say I was crazy! My family certainly thought I was.

So what did I do? I moved right away. Not that that was particularly outlandish – but the finances did not support it! In fact, nothing really supported it! I think my enthusiasm or psychosis must have been CATCHING because my husband got it too. It was a weird time. We just didn’t care. Life was short, and we were jolly well going to have and do what we wanted.

So, we ended up having eight glorious and wonderful years in Derbyshire, amongst the hills, just as we had always dreamed of. It had seemed impossible. But we did it.

I well remember the day we had to move back to my home county and give up our beautiful life in Derbyshire. I could not stop crying. And the crying went on for four years, and can still break out even now, eleven years after we moved back. And now my mother has died – and guess what. I long to be an idiot again! I long to go back to Derbyshire. We have looked for properties to rent, but there are few, and what there are do not take dogs. So we are stymied, so far. But who knows what the future might bring? I quite like a good dose of psychosis!

Written for Sadje’s What Do You See prompt #47 – A RIOT OF COLOUR

If Jade had been asked to paint a picture of her life, she would not have known what kind of a picture to paint. One thing for sure – it would have been incomplete. Quite elderly now, she had gone through much. But she still had time left.

She sat and thought. What was the predominant colour in her life? She liked red. Nowadays, everything seemed to be bright red for her. Firstly, she liked it. Many cancer patients went for red, or bright pink – a sign that they still had life in them, and that there was still hope. Black was a definite no no. Death was certainly not on the cards, even though many of them had been told they were terminal. Red was a good colour for Jade, her cancer treatment having made her blind – well, apart from the colour red. She could still see that. Sunsets were a wondrous glory to her, for those she could still see. Often, on an evening, she would sit looking at the sunset, and the blazing red creep across the sky. Fiery red, like her spirit.

So would she paint her life red? Maybe. She had had to have a fiery spirit to get through. But blue? Ah now. She loved blue too. Not because she felt blue, but because it had restful qualities. Once she had painted her bedroom a dreamy powder blue colour. She loved it. Sometimes she could hardly leave it as it induced in her a dream like state. So, did she want to paint her life blue?

Green? Oh definitely green figured prominently. A child of the earth, and nature. That described her well. Often she had desired only to sink into the green of the earth, and stay there for ever.

Jade contemplated. Perhaps she should just start painting the picture and see where that led her. In her mind, she got out the paint palette and made a few brush strokes. She could not see properly what she was doing, but was desperate to make some kind of impression on the paper. After all, weren’t blind people colourless? Often overlooked. Often drab and dull. Often the silent ones, their voices drowned out by the cacophony of sound made by the rest of the world. But no, not a bit of that was true.

Jade sat and contemplated a bit more. Who cared what kind of a picture came out? If it ended up as a riot of jangled up colours? Soon, the white paper was half covered in the most riotous colours that Jade could not even see. But inside, she sighed a sigh of contentment. She had done something that most would have said was impossible. She had begun to paint a picture.


I will build my little altar
In the woods where fairies play
Where gentleness reigns
And sweet voices sing
Where playfulness is the religion
And there is no judgement
For being as children
Is the way to finding heaven
Where transparency is the path
That everyone walks
Light as a feather
No black coats
Or white plastic smiles
Whilst behind the eyes is evil
An arrogance that only power can bring
A need for position
And a cruel icy coldness
I will build my little altar
In the woods where fairies play

Sent from my iPad


This past week has been very challenging for us. What might seem SENSIBLE to other people is hardly even FEASIBLE for us. We seem to lurch from one TRAUMA to another!

Early in the week my husband fell on the stairs again, wrenching his shoulder, and banging his head on the wall, which then made it almost impossible for him to look after me. We thought for a while that we were going to have to get the fire brigade to get him up, as he could not do it on his own. However, in the end he did. I was mightily glad as I was terrified of having someone in the house with Covid cases rising round here.

We got through that trauma in the end, but then a few days later his body temperature fell to 35.9 C. Not good. He felt cold first, so took his temperature. He ended up going to bed where he fell into a deep sleep, which scared me considerably. Eventually however he woke up and his temprature was rising again.

In both cases I panicked, knowing that I had myself, a dog, and a budgie to look after, blind and wheelchair bound and unable to feel things. We really do have a very precarious existence, with no help available. It is easy to fall into fear and despondence and to want to give up.

However, I likened myself to a shoot that struggles up through the darkness and into the light. It is hard. It is a struggle. It hurts, it exhausts. But in the end I always seem to come out into the light again, fresh as a daisy though a bit battle scarred! Life is certainly not easy for us, especially in this pandemic, but I guess that somehow, we will get through in the end.

Sent from my iPad


The deer knows not anything
Except that he is thirsty
And that he must drink
He pants then sees the water
Knowing not its source
Only that it is there
He drinks
And his thirst is quenched
Singing is heard in the trees
To the Source of all things


I didn’t mean to yell
And shatter your breaking
But since the strong one died
No rest
Has been ours
To our own pain
I put the lid on tight
To think is to break
Are we to live
For ever in agony
No the lid is good
Keep it on
Keep it locked
But yesterday
You foundd the key
And wiggled
And wiggled
And wiggled it
Until I yelled
Until I broke
As all the pain
Came out of the box
Tell me


Sammi looked around the room, and congratulated herself on landing such a plum job. Everything was new and shiny, including her imposing looking desk. A huge plate glass window filled the whole width of the room, through which you could see out into the street and watch all the goings on. And there were some! Indeed, it was amazing what could happen in such a small town in The Peak. Yes, this was a wonderful “catch,” Sammi thought to herself.

It was not a SPHERE that Sammi was used to moving in. No, she came from the academic world, where everything was cut and thrust. If you said just one sentence you had to argue your case it seemed. There were always other academics to challenge you, and Sammi had become disillusioned and sickened by the competitive nature of it all. She had just had a disagreement with her Supervisor, leading to a complete parting of the ways. There they were in the University rather spacious and imposing Tutor’s coffee lounge, and Sammi had happened to say a sentence that got her Supervisor’s back up. After a rather heated exchange they both agreed to part company for ever, and the Supervisor had said to Sammi,

“You go that way and I will go this,” and it was obvious that Sammi was going to have to find pastures new. Not that she was that bothered now. Everyone in this rarified world seemed ARROGANT and self seeking. Sammi longed for some relaxation and peace where she didn’t have to defend every word that she said.

And so here she was. The new Receptionist in a newly kitted out Volunteer Centre. Sammi stroked the lovely new desk approvingly. She was going to be O.K. here. She sat down on the plush new swivel chair, and put her bag into the bottom drawer of the desk. There were a few people passing in the street outside, but not many. It was quite early morning for Hootwell in the Peak, and things were only just beginning to get going. Then Jim appeared, SMILING at her,
(To be continued.)


Willow weeps sad tears
When autumn’s glory passes
Winter undresses

Tears turn to joy Spring
Begins to clothe the branches
Life returns again

Full summer’s heat leaves
Thick with the fullness of life
Joy in abundance

Colours glowing leaves
Filling us with the delights
That autumn brings us

Soon leaves die and fall
Becoming dust on the ground
Saying we are dust


The birds were silenced
No longer was there chatter
It was time to shield

The world changed that day
Became a dangerous place
Where none could find peace

Folks talked in hushed tones
About the appalling thing
That had taken them

Freedom was not theirs
They had learned to live in fear
Like brainwashed zombies


I have been a bit absent lately. Sorry. I manage to post my poems etc as I only have to copy them and paste them into here. But anything else is really difficult for me, though I try. I apologise if I have not always responded to your lovely comnents though again, I do love to if I can. Going blind is a horrible process, and if you go blind when you are younger there is help out there for you. Sadly, there is no help for me at age 72. Others can learn the technology but I have to try and fathom it out for myself. Its really difficult. But I try. I would not have chosen this for the world, but here I am in it LOL. No choice. I do suffer a lot of pain and become quite distressed at times and this damned virus has not helped, not being able to see a doctor. But here I am, doing my very very best. I love to read what you say to me. I really will try to respond better. I am not asking for places to go for help with the blindness as we have exhausted all possible sources. We really have tried, so now just have to get on with it. I am also very busy writing my book. I really want and need to do this, not for my own therapy but because I believe it will help others. I just hope this damned virus goes soon so we can all get on with our lives again. Be well, everybody, and stay safe as much as you can ❤️❤️❤️😭

TAKE SEVEN 11th September

Sadie looked at herself in the mirror, turning side to side and smoothing down her powder blue dress. Yes, her BELLY had finally gone. Well, not gone exactly, but shrunk. She looked at the CASE in her bedroom. Did she have enough CASH to follow through her plan? She remembered the ENVELOPE in the cupboard with the glass door – it had money in it. Not a lot, but some. It was birthday money that her mother had given to her. Her mother had never been an affectionate person, but thought she could FIX everything with money. Any problem, money could solve it. Even broken hearts. Sometimes Sadie thought it was all just a GAME to her mother.

It hadn’t been a good time for Sadie just lately, but she still had HOPE that things would improve. She still had a HUNGER for life despite all that had happened to her. She was fortunate. She was one of those people who could LAUGH at anything. She took after her father like that. Told herself jokes, then laughed at them. It was a good way to be, though Geoff, her husband had often been disconcerted when she began giggling hysterically in bed at night.

Sadie looked at the muddy coloured LIQUID left in the mug on her bedside cabinet. Last night’s tea. She felt for her MOBILE in her handbag and screamed out “Ouch” as she felt around. She had pinched a NERVE in her hand, and had forgotten until the sudden pain coursed through her hand. Maybe she would have time to NIP to the chemists for some pain killers before she set off. That was one thing she never had, never having been one who much needed them. Thinking about the sudden pain made her think of the NURSE in the hospital when she had had T.B. A daily injection straight into a muscle in her backside was needed, and there was one nurse who could never do it properly, and she used to almost jump through the roif with pain as the injection was given. But those days were gone now. She was well again, and on a new journey.

Last night she had cooked Geoff a nice ROAST with all the trimmings, knowing she would be gone for a while. She glanced at her watch. She was on SCHEDULE. It wasn’t that she didn’t love Geoff. He was the most SINCERE man she had ever known, and that was a quality that she had always valued. But he was so safe. He never took any risks, and life was very dull and boring. He always had to have the exact same kind of SOAP, for instance, a very expensive French one, especially for men. She supposed he thought it made him sexy, having this expensive French soap. But there wasn’t much element of surprise in it. Same with his SOCKS. Always grey and uninteresting. She once bought him some brightly coloured ones, for Christmas, along with a rather garish tie. But he just put them away in a drawer and never got them out again. Well,at least he was not going to STARVE, thought Sadie to herself. Not after last night’s dinner. But he was in for a great SURPRISE. There was no doubt about that. Sadie stared at her ticket. What amazing place was she going to be in this time next year?