Stitch This

  • If. Or, Pollie writes a poem

    If. Or, Pollie writes a poem

    A blank page is an opportunity. It beckons But I stall. I’m shy, uncertain, What if this is all? All I can produce. All I can get down. Small and stuttered, Slurred and slowed, I’m starting to slow down. What if I never find my voice What if it’s gone from me? Stealing into the…

  • Shake it off

    Shake it off

    You may know by now that I won the lottery of life back in 2007 when I was diagnosed with early onset Parkinson’s. Now, most of the time I choose to willfully ignore it. This is not bravery or inspirational behavior, I’m sorry to say. Rather, it is sheer blind ignorance, conscious ignorance, intended ignorance…

  • Return 

    Return 

    It’s been a while since I posted. That’s unusual behaviour for me. And I’ve come to realise that if I don’t post then I feel like I am missing out on something.  Which is strange really because this is only a little blog, it’s not like I have thousands or tens of thousands of followers.…

  • Upstairs

    Upstairs

    I have spent the whole week Struggling to speak To my youngest son, who has been Quite determined to press Every button to stress His disgust at the current regime.  He has screamed, he has wailed  He has fought and has railed ‘Gainst the system within which he exists.  What he hasn’t devined Is that…

  • Calm : Storm

    Calm : Storm

    It’s quiet chez Stitich tonight. Boys in bed. OH out. Me, wrapped up in a quilt on the sofa, tippy typing. No telly. Just the sound of Lego coming from Elder’s eyrie. The calmness that will shatter tomorrow because it’s CHRISTMAS EVE!!! Younger has been a human alarm clock each morning, counting down the days…