So massive changes continue chez stitch.  I won’t  go into detail for the sake of other people and also because I am quite frankly so bore, battered and bruised by it all its unreal. But, this process is making me re-evaluate and question so many of my long held practices and behaviours, it must be a good thing.

One thing I have been thinking about is how people represent themselves and how one person can see one thing while  another sees  something different.

I wonder whether that presentation is because of manipulation or whether it is just due to the hopes, background and yes, prejudices, of the people doing the viewing.  So for example, if I see somebody I want to be loving and kind, I will see that person as loving and kind despite any behaviour pointing in an opposite direction. I want them to be that kind of person and so I make them that person in my eyes.  In the short term, I’m happy, but in the long term? Well, in the long term disappointment is the only answer. In fact disappointment is the least of the problems isn’t it?  If I think somebody is kind and good and then they turn out not to be… What do I do? Do I question my own character analysis skills or lack off, do I move on, do I try and fix things?

The answer? All of the above and more. I am nearing the end of the tunnel… Not out of it yet but I can definitely see a little bit of daylight. See you on the other side…


It’s world Parkinson’s day…welcome to my world….

There is an inevitable dichotomy

between telling the truth and avoiding sympathy

If I explain just how I spent

My day… Just where the hours went

You’d see, perhaps, the toll now taken

By Parkinson’s

But you’d be mistaken

If you thought I had a choice.

An alternative, another voice.

My limbs may freeze, my muscles ache

But chores remain

Schools do not break

Up for holidays round my dates.

I can only react, and yes, compensate

For how my lone decline affects

How well my kids do on their Sats.

I want to live

I want to give

The best of times and more

I may get tired

And stumble on ,

But if I stop

That’s it… I’ve gone.


This poem is about how things can twist and change so easily and wondering what would happen if we could ‘backdate’ an encounter

Sometimes when I am sitting

Drinking coffee

Dreaming of you

I imagine what it would be like

If we could turn back the clocks

To when we were not pitted and scarred

By the tiny cuts and pricks of disappointment and lost hope

When our eyes shone bright

And we saw light and laughter as our due

not as a bonus

A special offer

But on tap. Limitless

I like to think that if we’d met in those early times

I would have recognised your worth

Your goodness and honesty

Pushing you forward

Shouting “me! Me!”

As i lazily fished.

Or did we need the lows to signpost this high?

Did sadness and pain provide strange relief?


But now is now

And quite how

We got here is not key

What really counts

What lights my heart

Is loving you as you love


Identity theft

We all are meant to have a tribe

a family that we can live inside

a group who understands our ways

Accepting us

And yet these days

It seem to me that this coherence

Is suffering mass interference

We don’t sit down and talk direct

We click and type on t’internet

And it is easy for us

to believe

That what we share

can true love weave.

Under the shelter of our screens

We share our secrets and our dreams.

We think we know to whom we type.

We think the warnings are just hype.

And then

The cut

The slice

The hack

And we remember

What didn’t stack

We see through lies

We see straight in

Naivity was our big sin.

We see how tricks made us judge badly

And share with those who now seem, sadly

To be real crooks.

Not tribe.

Not kin.

You were not heard.

My sage advice?

A strong password.