Pink is the new Grey

I'm a freelance writer, caffeine addict and cake whore. This is my blog, where I unleash my inner witch from her gingerbread latte cottage in the woods. Some people just can't play nicely online.


July 2016

Down to Earth

A long time ago, in a university far, far away, a Lady of a Certain Age walked in through the doors thirty years after leaving formal education – not to pick up where she left off, but to jump one step ahead of herself straight into a degree course without the benefit of a return-to-learn, access, or foundation level course first. Three years later she emerged as the proud holder of a BA in Creative Writing with honours, First Class! 

In the same week that I learned my degree classification, for I am that Lady of a Certain Age, I also learned that a short story of mine had been accepted for inclusion in a collection, Dark in the Day – alongside real writers (that I’ve actually heard of).

The view from cloud nine looked so rosy that I decided to take leap right off the edge and enter a couple of writing competitions. After all, nothing ventured, nothing gained – not that I think I stand a chance of winning,  as I said to my Lord-and-Master. 

‘Probably not, but never mind,’ he said. ‘What you’ve got to remind yourself is that you’re going up against people with talent.’

Did you hear that crash? That was the sound of a Lady of a Certain Age coming back down to earth with a bump.


Found Poem: Sing a Song of Soldiers.

The Centenary of the first day of the Battle of the Somme seemed an appropriate moment on which to share a found poem of mine entitled Sing a Song of Soldiers. To construct it I spliced together partial lines from war poems with partial lines from nursery rhymes, to make a new whole. So many of the men who die in war are so very young, some barely out of boyhood. In the First World War particularly, when recruiters became desperate and began to turn a blind eye to blatant lies, some of the combatants must have virtually gone from playing soldiers to actually being soldiers.

Sing a Song of Soldiers.

Little boy Kneels at the foot of the bed

and as he drops his head the instant splits his startled life with lead

blood-shod in shoes with grown-up laces he’s all ready to run some races

dragging stumps through fiery ground

Humpty Dumpty plummets arching towards his death

and all the king’s men seek to find their missing limbs

the maid is in the garden hanging men like shirts

sing a song of sixpence is muted when they shoot you in the throat

ding dong bells for those who die

as the cow jumps over the crimson guts

sleep pretty darling huddled as in bed

you are too young to fall asleep

this is the way we wave bye-bye.


Works used:

Keeping the Distance. Curt Bennett.

One Fine Day. Curt Bennett.

Golden Slumbers. Thomas Dekker.

A Square Dance. Roger McGough.

Anthem for Doomed Youth. Wilfred Owen.

Dulce et Decorum Est. Wilfred Owen.

Growing Up. A.A. Milne. When We Were Very Young 1924.

Vespers. A.A.Milne. When We Were Very Young 924.

A Whispered Tale. Siegfried Sassoon.

A Working Party. Siegfried Sassoon.

The Dug-Out. Seigfried Sassoon.

The Night Patrol. Arthur Graeme West.


Sing a Song of Sixpence.

Ding, Dong, Bell.


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