A Forgotten Story – 2AM

“It is 2AM and i am sitting on my bedside thinking of the good old days, Enid has come to this hospital. I think Stan perhaps no longer with us.

Albert and Stan used to love to have a drink together. They were boys again. Kathleen (Albert’s wife) did not approve. Beer was common, but it was good to see them enjoy themselves. Oh those were the days. Albert loved his little sister and was very kind to her and his mother. I must see if Enid is well enough for me to visit when i have a good day.

This home is deathly quiet, everyone is able to sleep but me but i love to think of the happy times. Albert would give my mother a G&T and she would laugh. Laugh. It makes me realise how we should recall and love those good days. Albert was very kind to me and my mother – he had a very good job and was able to do so. He enjoyed the good things in life – was able to do so.

How i would love to have those days back. To be young again and feel good. I would go to cinema twice a week and when i got my first car i was in heaven. Of course it was a second hand one but we were able to get to the coast in it. Mum would make sandwiches on a Sunday morning and off we would go. I think there was never a time as happy as that for mum. She had been brought up by her mother. Her father who she loved and her younger brother had both died of cancer and life had been very hard and sad for her and her mother. Work and not much fun!

I was happy i was able to give her an easier happy life for a few years”

Doris, 89.


A Forgotten Story – Birthdays & Purpose

Wednesday 25/10/2017

” I am sitting on a seat in the garden, the sun is shining and it is really warm. It is Pauline’s birthday today and they are having a bit of a tea party. Pauline is a nice lady. I get on well with her, at lunch i had the company of Jill and Nina. It is not what i have been used to – miserable people – but there are cheerful ones here, all i can say is not on the day when i shall be high above the clouds.

If only i was back at 59. I worked until i was 56 years old, looked after my mother and we had many years of happiness together. My enjoyment was making her happy and she loved me dearly! She worried as to what would happen to me when i am on my own. I miss her so much. One day who knows perhaps i will be with her again.

When i was able to get my first car i was able to take her to the coast. It was a happy time for us both. Perhaps collect fish and chips on the way back. We have enjoyed the simple things in life. I thank God i did something worthwhile in life – making someone happy.

We have just had a quiz this afternoon. Pauline’s daughter’s partner was there – a lovely cheerful man (he is always kind to me!). It is Pauline’s birthday today (she is 81), a nice lady who i can get on with.”

Doris, 89.

Lost notes

When you find notes in your bag that you’ve been carrying around for months and forgot all about.

When they bring back all the emotions you felt while writing them. Anger. Sadness. Loss. Fear.

When a new emotion turns up when you reread them. Pity. How strange that we can feel pity for our past selves. We know the outcome of what happens from that conversation. We know the outcome that comes from those questions. We know that pain and we know the relief as well, and yet we pity the poor us who didn’t know back then.

“What do you want?

What went wrong?

How long have you been feeling like this?

Why can’t I come with you?

Will this happen again?

What does this mean”

The hope and trust and love in those words, reflected by the worry, fear and pain. And yet the overwhelming emotion is pity.

A Forgotten Story – Washing

” I am a resident in Cuffley Care Home at the near age of 90 years old, but I would like to write about my early life.

I was born at 46 Russel Road, South Tottenham which was the home of my Grandma – Emily Maria Long. Grandma’s husband (his name was Albert) died at a very young age of cancer of the throat. As a widow Grandma had two young children to feed and take care of. One being my mother Laura Long and a son Albert Long. They were both young children. In those days there was no social security and Grandma had to take in washing in order to feed herself and her children. Albert suffered from fits and one morning, he had left the house to go to school and had a fit that made him fall and hit his head on the pavement and he died immediately. This just left my mother (Laura Long) and her mother. Because my Grandma had to work hard, so did my mother. Grandma had to take in washing to survive.

My mother had cousins who lived close by and she loved her uncle but unfortunately he died very young and his wife was left with a number of children, Agnes, Lucy, Stan and Dennis.

Life was very tough for her. Her mother had to take in washing in order to get money to feed her children. There was no widows allowance in those days, there was something called ‘The Poor’ but to get money for food you had to sell your furniture to survive.

My mother said her mother had to take in washing from near her and she would be up until midnight and past washing and ironing.

It makes me ashamed about things I grumble over now. How tough lives were for so many in those days.

My mother met my father – I believe they were distant relatives and he was conscripted for the army medical corp 1914/1918 war.

I believe when they first married they lived in grandma’s house, 44 Russel road, south Tottenham and we children were born there. After a while we all moved to another relatives house at Elthorne Road, Holloway, needless to say it didn’t work out and my father rented a house at 92 Middle Lane Hornsey (in those days it was called Hope Terrace). The house faces Priory Park which was lovely for me as a child to have a park and swings to play on. ”

Doris, 89. In her own words.

A Religious & Cultural Easter 🐣

What a strange Easter I have had this year, I have been on holiday with my dad in Spain and we went to a bizarre set of religious and traditional parades. To say they were anything but fascinating, alien and clearly so moving and ingrained in the culture here would be a lie.

I have seen religious figures dressed in outfits I associate with extremist group the KKK. I have seen children and young people dress up as biblical characters, ideas and saints. I have seen statues of Jesus and of the many trials and tortured he endured. I have been symbols and heard music to reflect both his crucification and resurrection.

It has been a whirlwind. It has also been an amazing Easter, to be able to share in such a rich culture and experience of a festival I usually just celebrate by gorging on an excessive amount of chocolate has been an honour.

So here are some of the pictures I got of the parades, maybe you can guess whether they were on good Friday for his burial or Sunday for the resurrection…

Soulmates… an idea?

Today I watched a very interesting TED talk called ‘have you met your soulmate?’ By Ashley Clift-Jennings. I found it interesting for a number of reasons.

Firstly, the idea of a soulmate at all. We are taught at a young age to believe in such a mystical thing as the one, as a soulmate, as the person you are destined to be with forever. What we are not taught is what that person is meant to look like, meant to act like, how we are meant to recognise this soulmate if we were to cross paths with them. We all buy into the happily ever after ending because our whole life we have been taught that our purpose is to find it. And clearly Ashley, like most of us buys into this idea, in fact she has bought into it enough that it has shaped her whole life! So the big question is whether I believe I have a soul mate, and whether I think I have met them yet. I truly believe if soulmates are a thing, then so is love at first sight and you would know pretty instantly that you were destined to be with that person. So as that’s never happened, I suppose I haven’t met my soulmate. Which is good, as I am currently single. But whether or not I believe in soulmates as a whole, I guess I am unsure. I would love for them to be real, for it to be an achievable thing that happened, but I don’t really think it is. I think in your life you have multiple loves, for multiple reasons and you can have more than one ‘the one’, and for some people finding their soulmate is a reality, for others it’s a dress and for some of us it’s bullshit.

The second reason I found the video so interesting was because her idea of what her soulmate looked like changed. The perfect image and tick boxes she had laid out changed as she changed and her partner changed, they adapted in a way that meant they continued to be soulmates. But, for so many, any change can mean the end of a relationship, the end of being soulmates because you are no longer fulfilling that need or expectation, no longer ticking that box or suddenly a new box is required and they have never been that person. If soulmates are a thing, then you must have more than one, because at different stages in your life different people will fit your criteria? So doesn’t that undermine the whole point of them?

I am aware it may seem like I am missing the point of the fact she is arguing for us to be more open to all people and not close ourselves off to what we think our soulmate should be. That we need to become a more inclusive, gender fluid, sexually liberated society, that doesn’t pick a gender to open our hearts to and explore the possibilities of soulmates with at a young age, as our soulmate could be anyone, of any gender or orientation. And I fully support that, I think it’s such a shame that we shun the ‘different’, as if anyone is the same and can be ‘normal’. I do believe we should be more open and accepting of people, especially in relation to gender and sexual orientation.

But my question is: in the case of soulmates, do physical attribute come into it? And if they don’t, what’s the difference between them and your best friend?


I am thankful for lots of things and these become even more apparent when something happens that shocks you, scares you and changes the very foundation of the life of someone you love.

Here are some of things I am thankful for:

  1. My health, I know its a cliche, but boy am I glad that I have no lasting medical issues, that I don’t struggle with mental illness, that I am not in any physical pain
  2. That I have opportunities, I am privileged enough to not be limited by a finical, personal or societal commitment or prejudice that limits my options.
  3. That I have found jobs that I love and have a passion for and the chance to work in the field that I adore and am good at. That I get to help people, watch them discover things and grow.
  4. That I have the most incredible friends and family who will always be there when I need them and who care for me. I know not everyone has the luck to be blessed with loving, committed and kind people to surround them
  5. That I have a home and a job, that I can support myself and look after the people I love.
  6. That I have had some of the greatest loves a person can ask for and that those experiences haven’t been tarnished or ruined, that I can still look back and have joy, that I have come out the other side and still have the memories and moments that will last a lifetime.
  7. That I am young. That I have a whole life ahead of me to discover, change and experience a world of things.
  8. That I was born into privilege, that I wasn’t a child who loses out because they were born into a country torn apart by war, that my innocence was protected, that I was valued and supported.
  9. That my baby sister wasn’t the person to walk into that horror scene, that she won’t be scarred for life by that experience, that recovery from the grief is still an option for her.
  10. That I am alive.

2 Weeks And 3 Days Later

So we are 2 and a half weeks on, and what have we learnt?

Not much i don’t think. Which is odd, because usually i can take a lot from even the smallest encounter, let alone something as life changing as having your partner of 3 years leave you. But i guess i am still in the shock phase, i am still in the hopeful, processing, slightly a mess phase. But then, i am also not that much of a mess?

I think what i have learnt is that you can’t break a heart twice. Your heart is never going to recover from that first break. No other set back or heartbreak will ever compare or compete. I love him, i do, but what i learnt from the first breakup is that i love myself more.

So i am not really crying, i am listening to empowering music and i am standing up for myself because i don’t need to be anyone’s bitch, i don’t need to be a doormat for anyone in my life. I am probably handling that terribly, but i also could not give less of a f***!

I am happy to buy myself flowers to fill my room, its not like he was doing it for me before. I am happy to tell my boss that its all bullshit, because it is, pay me more if you want me to do more work, or i am not going to do more work. I am happy to walk down the street with an exploded eye and still feel hot as shit because being attractive isn’t an external thing, it is a mindset and i feel hot and i will be damned if anyone else’s opinion matters. Who are they to tell me i am not attractive? Its not an objective thing.

And lastly, i am done feeling sorry for myself, i am done making excuses, i am done acting like a victim when i am a queen.

Because misery loves company

In attempt to stop myself from sending this letter. In an attempt to stop myself from hurting someone else so I don’t have to hurt alone. Here are the malicious, self deprecating words of a girl on the eve of a potential breakup:


I know this is out of the blue, and inappropriate and probably of no help to either of us but hey ho, here I am in crisis and nobody was quite right to talk to about it, so it had to be you.

It’s happening again, another man is looking me in the face and loving me with resentment. I have gone full circle and ended up back here. A heart that never really got mended about to be broken again. What do I keep doing wrong? What is it about me that doesn’t work?

I know you won’t know the answer to those questions because the two in turmoil now aren’t us. They are me and him.

I don’t even know if I am about to be dumped but it feels awfully familiar. Only this time, I don’t know what I want. Last time I knew, I knew it was going to happen and I was praying with every fibre of my being that it wouldn’t and that I would never have to close that chapter of my life. And I guess I never did, even if the story ended. But this time, this time has been a cruel trick where I think I have grown and matured and been better and I haven’t. I still have venom in my blood, I still have a temper and rage and I am still a nightmare dressed like a daydream.

This time I don’t know if I want to fight for it, or whether I should let it run its course. I don’t know whether to manipulate it so I prolong the inevitable. Am I jumping the gun? And I being crazy? Have I blown the whole thing out of proportion?

Can I make it work? Yes. Do I want to make it work? I have literally no idea. Do I know what I want? For the first time in forever, I don’t. Do I hate him for making me relive this nightmare? Yes. Can I forgive it? I don’t know. Is there a path back? I don’t know. How much water is under the bridge, can I see the bridge anymore? Would I be able to touch the bridge now?

Surely my heart can’t possibly break, because it wasn’t really whole to start with? Is that why I feel like I can’t fight, is that why I am going to let this happen, is that why I am already crying myself to sleep, is that why I can’t bare to look at my bedroom because he is everywhere, because everything is stained by him, because I can’t imagine it without him.

I let it happen again. I let my life balance on the back of another man, and now he is tumbling and so my life crumbles. I thought I didn’t rely on it so much, I thought I had learned my lesson. But I can’t. It’s my safety net, it’s what let’s me do all my things, yeah this time I got to be a person not just somebodies girlfriend, but my person doesn’t have value unless she has support and love guaranteed by yet another dark haired, blue eyed, July born man.

Good job Jess. You really know how to pick them.

So I think this is rhetorical and thus completely pointless but there we go, sometimes you need to vent and who else could I possibly vent this to?

Lots of love,

Your nightmare ex.

True Love Waits Forever: Care Home Hooligan -Part 7

Sometimes I am reminded that my job is one of the best jobs in the world. That I am privileged enough to have a part of someone’s life, their most intimate moments and thoughts. This week I had one of those moments.

I was speaking with a gentlemen about his life and specifically his wife and he shared with me the story of when he first realised he was in love with her. It brought me also to tears. So here is his story:

She had been away in Doncaster visiting her sister-in-law’s family and I was going to meet her at the station. So as I am waiting on platform one at kings cross station, her train pulls in. She steps out and she walks towards me smiling and radiant. And, in that moment, I realised I was madly in love with her and couldn’t bear to be apart from her ever again.

That. That is the kind of love I want. That is the kind of love that happens once in a lifetime, that makes you believe in soulmates, that restores your faith in humanity. That is the kind of love that makes movies, that makes hearts melt, that gives life meaning and purpose. That is the kind of love you only get to witness in my kind of job.