Clouds

I've been a little preoccupied lately and my writing has fallen by the wayside but seeing as I've had an unexpected free Sunday afternoon, I've managed to pick up where I left off and have started writing chapter seven of my children's book, secretively titled TBOWD!!!

I also made the mistake of opening and reading Airtight today. It's half-written and I shelved it last autumn to write TBOWD... Very big mistake!! I now want to pick up where I left off and finish it! Argh!!! I need to ditch my day job! There are not enough hours in the day! :)

I'm playing Marc and the Mambas 'Torment and Toreros' album as I write. There are some very beautiful songs on there but none more so that Your Love Is A Lesion, which is slightly disturbing seeing as it's about domestic abuse but as I'm feeling a little dark today, here are the lyrics.

My hands tied behind my back

You forced me to love you

Down on my knees I lied

My real self stays locked safe from you

My ears always ringing

And the tears always brimming

It's so hard to keep you at bay

Maybe I won't bother today

Blood smeared across my mouth

This love leaves me lost without you

But when will we tire of disease and desire

And I'll turn around and I'll destroy you

But your love leave a lesion

And it gives me a reason

It's so hard to keep you at bay

Maybe I won't bother today

The touch of the bruises

The pain that amuses

My hand always shielding my eyes

My hand always shielding my eyes

And here is the song...

https://youtu.be/L8Np2SLr1ag

My latest magazine article

From Queen Bee, Winter Issue

Patriotism is a wonderful thing. The French are brilliant at it. But amongst our fair isles, patriotism is only usually seen during times of sporting conflict. We’re not a very proud nation. Given the slightest opportunity to slag Britain off, we will. The government! The weather! The NHS! Immigrants!

England’s recent departure from the Rugby World Cup caused a Facebook furor amongst my collection of British friends. So much so, I read their comments with genuine shock; thread after thread of long, aggressive spats between grown men (and women – shame on you!) throwing around more racist insults about each others homelands than tries scored throughout the entire competition.

All I could think about as I read page after page of antagonism, was the Christmas present I received four years ago. It wasn’t a diamond ring or a Mulberry handbag. It was a small cardboard box that contained a little pot to spit into. Being of mixed heritage, I had always wanted to have my DNA tested, just to see exactly where my ancestors same from. And it was the best present I have ever received.

Several weeks later, the results came through. I discovered my fatherline was of mainly French and Spanish descent (despite coming from Country Mayo, Ireland) which confirmed our link to the Spanish Armada. My motherline was much more exotic. Markers from Egypt and Iran, Yemen and Turkey, plus an extremely rare marker originating from a very elite group of people living in the Middle East 2000 years ago. It was fascinating. I discovered that a million people in the UK descend from Romans and that my blue eyes descend from a single genetic mutation 10,000 years ago. And he lived by the Black Sea… hence my Persian marker.

We may be fiercely patriotic about out birthplace but if we all looked at the bigger picture, we would see that our genetic paths criss-cross the globe, each unique line making us who we are today. If you live with somebody who refuses to believe they are anything but English / Welsh / Scottish / Irish through and through, buy them a DNA kit for Christmas. It’ll be the making of them. We are all immigrants!

So let’s stop hurling racist insults at one another and stop and think about where we came from. After all, the purpose of education is to replace an empty mind with an open one…