Hold your treasures tightly

black and white doodle

I don’t mean possessions, I’m not at all materialistic. I find money and things get in the way of the real stuff.

What I mean is the people you love, the habits you’ve formed together. The smiles you share and the games you play.

The odds and ends of life always turn out to be the best bits.

Alex and me have a thing for curling up on the sofa to watch some TV at the end of a long day – and busy evenings with the kids and their friends and everything else going on after work – we don’t usually get there until 10pm. If we’re not watching something together (and at the moment it’s The Handmaid’s Tale – which is another blog post entirely), Alex is so patient and will watch any sort of thing I choose, though he draws the line at hospital emergencies, and so I have to watch them from behind a cushion. Or sometimes I’ll draw and doodle while some film is going on. I’m very annoying – I ask too many questions about the plot, so that’s why I doodle instead.

I usually just draw whatever I can see; all the tiny, familiar but worthless objects that make a world cosy.

It’s nice. It’s boring. It’s love. It’s home.

Hold onto it tightly, and let all the rubbish fall away.


A hot night






hot-night-6hot-night-7hot-night-8cartoon illustration sleeping together

I made some biscuits


i made some biscuits
four tins
one: chewy
two: crunchy
three: chocolatey
four: crumbley
wrapped in paper
tied up with string
so pretty
to the cake stall
at the church fete
this afternoon

i forgot to take them
i left them on the
kitchen table

i blame Holger
because since
he got me so tipsy
on champagne
last week
and found it so funny
i am going to blame him for everything now

though i love him dearly


would you like to come over
for tea and biscuits
i have lots





Kissing in the long grass


illustration of lovers


It’s easy to forget that kissing in the long grass is a thing, delicious as it is.

It’s the sort of blue skies Summer afternoon lazy lying in the park love that you get away with now and then. Warm skin and cold ice cream. It turns golden in your memory.

I want some more of it.

Take me kissing in the long grass again.



Disclaimer: I don’t know who the man in my illustrative romantic fantasy is. If it looks like you, call me* I’m sorry, no likeness intended.

*Mr M. is away again, but he’s very protective and of fierce Scottish blood. He has a kilt, and he’s not afraid to use it. On second thoughts, don’t call me 🙂

Addendum: he’s quite sexy though, that guy in my picture. And young. Gosh, whatever has come over me. Perhaps he’s one of those guys from the Greek island. Perhaps he’s the gardener from the end of the road. Perhaps I’ll have a cold shower.





Doodle with me

Doodle with me
my love,
pick up your pen
and draw.
Don’t get out of bed just yet.
Open your heart
with the curve
of your smile,
breathing soft
and breathing slow.
It doesn’t matter
what you want to say.
You don’t have to know.
Let your story
tell itself.
Doodle with me,
my love.

To find out more about the utter genius of Jose Gonzalez – hop over here.


PS: I had this post all lined up for tomorrow. But on a day like today, when our hearts are heavy and our souls sad and weary, we need love poems and pretty clothes and wonky little homemade films, I think.

pretty skirt and belt

Overnight Success Story

whether most humans
who walk the earth
would consider this success
i don’t know,
but let’s imagine
leaving the house
turning left
pushing the gate
and into the
the tunnel of trees
green against the sky
and horses ranging in the meadow beyond.
let’s leave the traffic
to its linear devices
and curl gently
up to the bridge
over the stream
stopping to look at
the fish & the lilypads
and the moorhens
we’ve watched since they hatched.
still further
let’s venture
into the tunnel
under the full cover
the canopy of leaf
the dark and muddy bit
that dogs so enjoy
and out out out
into the sunlight
and the wide open park
blackberries & buddleia & bracken & grasses
knee high
and celebrating
as i take their lonely path
and no other.
i can feel them shiver under my gaze
and wish me well
as i pass on by.
we are together in our solitude.
up on through:
the wooden gate
to the water gardens
polished to the touch
from use
and round
to the best bit
another bridge
with its wedding cake layers
of glassy iced water
streaming down
from the top.
no heron today
but moorhen cousins
pootle & squeak
poking about in the reeds
and eight geese
in stately convoy
take to the rapids
and careen madly
all the way down.
the elderflowers
are dancing in memory
of their lacewhite skirts

and i don’t know
if most humans
would consider this success:

leaving the house
and turning in
to the park

but i do








It occurs to me
in the shower
that since
I am
to be sharing my bed
I ought to shave.
It’s the only thing I know to do.
I am clueless
as to how
fathom these things.
I have only just discovered
and even then
I am impatient
to get out.
I despair at myself.
How will I teach my daughter
womanly wiles
the chemist
is bewildering,
a plastic jungle
tooth and claw
and mostly false,
where buying
anything –
is just plain
Don’t mention waxing,
although I wish you would;
a detailed explanation
of the
practical indignity
a film star’s
be useful.
I could always
fall back on
the NHS
like when I was
a worried virgin
fretting about
in the middle of
my honeymoon
(my Mother
having already
dismissed me
Why would it matter?)
and the GP’s nurse
roll two packs
that’s what
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