Childhood . My Fiction . Writing
Hounds-Tooth
On November 1, 2015 by Speranza
A tiny slit of light creaks through the ill-fitting wardrobe door even after it clicks shut behind me. Under different circumstances to these I might feel self conscious, or perhaps unbalanced. But the pain of loss has driven me here, and I care nothing for such thoughts. The coat hangers move quickly under my touch whining the screech of steel on steel, till at last I find what I want. It slips around my shoulders easily, enveloping me in its scent and at once I breathe in a thousand memories. The smell of spearmint gum still lingers in the pocket, and the faint tang of old-fashioned shaving soap comes up to me from the warmth. This coat is a traditional hounds’ tooth tweed, but worn soft and the lining still glows cheerfully, a dull vermilion red like the inside of a magicians’ cloak.
Being A Mum . Frasier and Niles . Nostalgia
The Stomach Knows: Part II
On September 3, 2015 by Speranza
Fast forward to Frasier’s first day at school which was preempted by much psychological preparation including nightly readings about what that first day would entail ( I seem to recall the protagonist was a young raccoon) the purchase of a special, fancy knapsack and a lunch that included sliced grapes (no choking hazard) and sandwiches that were cut into the shape of a duck. His teacher, a kind and vivacious woman who was all flowy skirts and paisleys (think: Ms.Frizzle) actually came to the house to introduce herself over the summer and had already made quite an impression.
Being A Mum . Childhood . Nostalgia
The Stomach Knows Part I
On September 2, 2015 by Speranza
I am visiting my September pasts. I am walking along our street at a lazy pace, the kind of speed which will accommodate my small son’s wish to examine every dead earwig and share a secret with every nudging, neighbourhood cat and inspect each snail shell in case ‘someone is home.’ The sun filters weak coins of light onto our backs but the first indicator that the season is changing comes from within. Specifically, my stomach. Before I even had a chance to be fully awake this morning, the open window carried to me the smell of fresh earth but with a new chilliness that was not there even yesterday and that burnt, peppery smell of leaves that are just beginning to crisp. Already a fluttering of anxiety had begun in my stomach, creeping downwards like a cold syrup, so steady that I could feel it unfurling like a flag. But really, what was actually wrong?
Uncategorized
Why Reading (At All) Still Counts …
On April 20, 2015 by Speranza
Dana Girls
Frasier ( Son #1) has often told me that people are not reading less now but rather, reading differently. He cites his own reading habits here – and many of his hipster friends – who may dip in and out of many respected, intellectual websites and blogs/instagram accounts daily but not necessarily read an actual book with any degree of regularity. But is the ability to settle down and enjoy a longer body of work for pleasure gradually being edged out by all these shorter blasts online?
Is there a case to be made about our attention spans atrophying since the onset of the internet?
I’ll try to keep this brief …