Author: Dara

Inclined to go a bit too deep, but life can't always be kittens in coffee cups. My face is kept on by the screw in my chin. It doesn't hurt. This blog is where I do most of my unscrewing. I think that's the best way to look inside.

Flex it, baby!

Positivity is a muscle – the more you use it, and the more you use it in a variety of ways, the more effective it gets. Do you ever think about the muscles you use? If you don’t, that could mean several things. It could mean you’re very young, and it hasn’t even occurred to you to think about it.…

Every Fallen Tree

Every Fallen Tree The reeds, still weeks off sprouting their shocks of composers’ cotton, were bent almost horizontal by the whistling wind. Moving in unison, they lulled and crescendoed to nature’s insistent baton, demonstrating the lesson I needed to learn: to cede, not to hold. But I had exchanged one storm for another. The battle brought outside, my brittle form…

Terms and conditions apply

My daughter is doing her absolute best to send me to an institution. She revels in breaking my concentration, in pulling my focus, in distracting me in any way she can from whatever task I am feebly trying to complete. Even though she runs the risk of being on the receiving end of an apoplectic outburst on my part, she…

Everyone Should Have a Fergus

As recently promised, here is my latest Christmas story, in both written and audio form. A simple story of a little boy who weaves his own peculiar magic through this world and beyond. Have a safe and happy Christmas. Everyone Should Have a Fergus ‘Where’s the tree!’ Dad screamed. I was holding my throbbing hand and fighting to get my…

Christmas stories to listen to!

Well, here we are again, leaning hard into a much desired and much deserved festive period. Most Decembers since starting the blog I have tried to write and publish here a Christmas short story. There are five to date, although I am currently working on one that I hope to have up before the 25th rolls round. In the spirit…

Pannonia Girls

Pannonia Girls Eyes pools of wonder, glittering intelligence, sparkling mischief. Bodies shaped by pride, confidence and interest. Dimples and grins of gaiety and penny-dropping knowing. In the wooded space they have been given leave to grow, to be wrong, to be curious. Castles and kingdoms, and queendoms, made in dollhouses. The lash, the whip and the curse have not been…

We have contact

 “Are we living in end times? … Either way, it is hard not to feel that we are being shown a glimpse of a future to which we should expect to become accustomed. And when the world around you is physically changing, it is almost impossible for your perspective not to change with it… It may be tempting to put…

Witchman

a poem from quite a few years ago, inspired by the sight of an aged driver advancing carefully along a motorway, a long, irate tailback in his wake Witchman Witchman, wrapped around leather, staring through glass, blasted eyes, bloodshot translucent skin. Fingers like knots of gristle and rock, stuck in time, modernity raging at his back, hook nose and jagged…