My Mother's Dressing Gown - Moleskine Art

This sums up my perpetual state of confusion as a child. I was confused when adults lied but punished me for doing the same thing. They gossiped, stole, and bullied with a freedom I wanted for myself. At the centre of the confusion was my mother as a constant, in my minds eye eternally wearing a Marks And Spencer's nylon quilted dressing gown. The whole world could turn upside down but as long as mum was there in her dressing gown, I new all was well. They don't make dressing gowns like that anymore, I guess health and safety doesn't allow for that kind of fire hazard!

A Human Catalogue - Moleskine Art

Just think! Every female of our species carries approximately 400 eggs in her ovaries. The male produces trillions of sperm over a lifetime. Now imagine if we had access to a photo album of all possible combinations with a particular mate, and we could select our offspring. Wouldn't it be sad having to reject 397/ 396 of the possibilities. How would we choose? I think about this a lot and fantasise about the 395 babies I'll never have or get to know. Thinking about it, what a blessing it is that the selection is out of our control! Leaving the choice to chance relieves us of a terrible burden, and yet, I'd love to take a peek at what could have been...

She Would Live Underwater - Moleskine Art

I am quite intuitive. I have honed my people reading skills over decades, so I know myself pretty well. And yet, when told I can't do something I completely ignore what my inner voice is telling me, and my five year old belligerent self would take the bait. I'll brave pain, discomfort and unhappiness just to prove a point nobody cared about anyway. These small victories are like a battery charge for my psyche. Little secret triumphs at an inordinate personal cost are at once perverse and utterly human.

I Listened For Love - Moleskine Art

When I'm worried about something I start making deals with God, angels the Universe..anything out there that had more power than I had. I'd promise acts of denial or acts of super kindness. As a child I learnt never to take things at face value, I knew adults were twisted liars. I became adept at sniffing out atmospheres, moods and undercurrents. It was a survival tactic. I'd then adjust my behaviour to suit the situation. It was hard, stressful work, but I was on my own. I wish I could hold my five year old self and tell me that everything would be o.k.

Close Yer Eyes = Moleskine Art

An ambiguous take on male V. female relationships. In any partnership, happy or miserable, there are continuous power struggles. Traditionally, women used mental manipulation while men were more physical. We all have endless stories to illustrate this. I shall spare you my little homilies this once, and allow you to come up with your own anecdotes. By all means feel free to share.

She Hated Gardening - Moleskine Art

This image is a portrait of a couple I am related to by blood. Tbeir relationship as dramatic and compelling as an episode of Eastenders. They knew how to work each other, and they took full advantage of this knowledgr. He'd boast about how much control he had over 'his woman', and would regale anyone who's listen how he's worked women out. To him they were no longer a mystery. Meanwhile, his loving wife would spill all his intimate secrets to her girlfriends. As a child I knew when the women gathered together their conversation changed. I'd sneak around trying to look inconspicuous as I picked up crumbs of juicy gossip, not understanding much of it till years later. And what gossip! No holds barred, Xrated would be a conservative description. As an adult I realise that a lot of the marriages that were being discussed were arranged ones. Without the love component, these women felt no personal loyalty to their 'stranger' husbands. When you love someone, you are interested in presenting them in the best light, 'big them up' so to speak. Without love, it is a cold transaction. The women exacted small acts of revenge by betraying personal details, by puncturing their men's carefully crafted image. Since then I've always been a sucker for gossip....now where is my heat magazine?

Fresh Air Doesn't Guarantee Breathing - Moleskine Art

One of my gifts for my fourth birthday was a Wade wall plaque of a cat's face. My mother thought I'd like it as I was animal crazy. She hung it over my bed lovingly. Now this was the meanest looking cat I'd ever seen.

 To my childish eyes it looked as if it had been skinned, it's rictus grin never faltering. If I saw that cat's head now I'd probably find it quite sweet and charming, but in my head it has taken on mythical powers of evil. I'd fantasize that it was spying on me, that it was colluding with my mother to thwart my every independent move, that says more about my relationship with my mother than anything else. My brother and sisters still remember that head with a shudder so it wasn't all in my mind.I have found the offending article online, so you can see for yourself.