Are you a woman who loves to dream in coffee shops, tea rooms, cafes? Do you write sometimes, while you’re there?
Or do you dream at a kitchen table, wishing it could be a coffee shop?
The Woman At The Next Table is for you. It’s a peaceful, inspiring place where you can learn to appreciate the value of your own life stories, feel more confident and explore your creativity. You will not be alone here. In this blog, you will find stories to inspire and entertain: perfect to read with a cup of something special. Please… join me at the table!
Today I am in Brixham, in the super-friendly Bay Coffee Company cafe on the quayside. Through the open door I can see the harbour and passers-by. It’s a glorious day, unexpectedly warm and blessed with spring sunshine. I am here for the week, enjoying a Journey Through Womanhood residency. Today’s workshop is right here, in […]Read More
My second piece from Kyiv, written during the summer of 2017. The Sisterhood of Sewing On St Andrew’s descent, I found a woman selling soft toys: cats, cockerels and gloriously curvy satin horses with flowing woollen manes and tails. ‘Did you make these?’ I asked. She nodded and smiled. ‘All my work.’ I bought a […]Read More
In 2017, I travelled to the glorious city of Kyiv with a group of British writers: Jonathan Coe, Kit de Waal, Stuart Maconie, Jonathan Davidson and Alan ‘Kurly’ McGeachie. Our trip was funded by the British Arts Council. While we were there, we spoke at a fabulous book fair held in the city Arsenal and […]Read More
What is the best advice you have ever been given? I asked some friends this question the other day, and one friend replied: Whatever you do, wait for the silence. She said she had been told this when she was a newly qualified teacher, and subsequent experience in front of classes had shown it was […]Read More
‘Do you have something you have kept through the years? Something small, like a photo or a piece of jewellery? A letter? Or maybe something else?’ A Feather In My Wallet My latest Arts Council project invites people to bring personal possessions to a special workshop and share the stories behind them. So far, the […]Read More
When he told me, later, that he felt invisible, I believed him. I had nearly walked past him too. I don’t recall him asking me for money, like all the others beggars did that day. But maybe I was too far away, on the far side of that wide pavement. Maybe my stride was too […]Read More