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Entwined

It was early one afternoon and Paula’s family appeared at the hospital window, her twin brother perched on her Dad’s shoulders to see inside. The hospital grounds around them were lush with the recent shower of rain and a string of droplets from broken guttering edged the window. She stood up and wobbled her way to the end of the cot to get closer to the faces she knew. The glass kept them distant and she longed to be on the other side. Her Mum, just in vision mouthed,

“Be a good girl,” and smiled.

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Keywords: 
family, loss, defiance, conviction

Eulogy to the Seventies

You came very quietly…on the wake of flower-powered dreams…we hardly noticed…so exhausted were we from the razzmatazz of the pass eclectic “anything goes” decade. 

You came very quietly, swaying gently with prayer beads and mantras…”sit downs” and “stand ins” at all the major yokel vocal city squares…you catapulted us out of the swinging metallic space age glam glam psychedelic…seedy…buzzing “burn the institution” 60’s into a gentler rhythm…

And we who were beginning to see…turned on at last to a more transcendent view of the human dilemma…

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Fair Fares

I was a young rebel aged 16. It was the early 1970’s and I had been interested in politics at school and joined a political party which I though best represented my views.

After being informed that I had been selected to go to a major conference in my home town of Glasgow, I chose to speak on a subject that was close to my heart: public transport.

The bus fares had been rising progressively for some time with no apparent improvements in the quality of service. I decided that radical, direct action was required to bring this to the forefront of political debate.

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Fairy Cakes

My mum is good at baking. She makes lovely fairy cakes. When I was a little girl I would help her. When they had cooled down my mum would put the icing on them and sprinkles. I would have to wait until it was time to eat them, but sometimes that was quite hard so I would pinch one and lick off the icing.

 

Zoe

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Falkirk's Highway to Hell

Bright lights, big city – not words people might not associate with the place, but it was a big deal for my best friend and I to travel into nearby Falkirk. Especially when you’re nine years old and never been on a bus before.

Back in the day, circa 1979. It was a heavy metal quest of gigantic proportions we were destined to take. Yep, my friend and I were head-bangers that required full on metal gear to go with our head-banging antics.

Studded belts, AC/DC patches, Black Sabbath, bleached Cosmic jeans; any piece of kit that turned us into the real deal.

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Fear

For most of my life I’ve been battling fear
As a child, painfully shy
Never could meet anyone’s eye
Always afraid to speak up
Never let my voice be heard 

As I grew, it stayed with me
In my teens, my twenties too
Fear still there, some fears new
Becoming a woman, a mother, a wife
Navigating my way through life 

Then depression, anxiety, the fear grew
That dark, dense cloud suffocating 
All I could hear, myself, screaming
Inside, outside, around my head
My biggest fear - it would never end 

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Fifty Something....

I can't sleep. I feel subdued, undermined. You name it, I’m feeling it. I’m weary, heartily sick of it all. I know, you’re wanting to know why? Just give me time and I’ll try to explain.

So here I am, lovely home, smashing family, absolutely wonderful husband. Why do I let them get to me? Truth is, I don't know. 

My Dad died four months ago. It was hard but I was determined to stay with him till the end. I was declared morbid for that!

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Finding Confidence in Non-Conformity

My fingers fumbled with a well-worn lace as I knotted the first boot. I took a deep breath before moving onto the second, shaking slightly, a nauseating sensation of anxiety bubbling away in the pit of my stomach.

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Fire

I’d be fooling myself if rising
from the ashes was easy; if I
was reassured and recomposed
and untouched by your heart; it
was once mine after all.  

I’d be lying if I said that now
you mean nothing and, blameless,
walk away.  I’d be heartless if I
confessed that nothing existed, and
I have gone unhurt in this: I won’t
bleed through and show you what
you’ve done, my pride conceals it,
and I wait to be healed.  

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Keywords: 
heartbreak, love, defiance

Fitba Daft

I guess I always knew I was different.

Not to look at. I was just a typical teenager - if there is such a thing. Unremarkable, quiet, bookish and shy. More comfortable reading, drawing or out walking my dog than going into town shopping and gossiping with the girls. Always a bit of a loner, but comfortable in my own company.

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