Postcards Home

Well, it has been a bit of a trip. Such a beautiful start driving along the Atlantic Highway with my son – it felt like it was the first time I was living the journey rather than the destination; time felt precious with Nick as did the moments of realising something wanted and imagined.

Time was ours to do with as we wanted and we did, taking a chance at each fork in the road, glimpsing fragments of seascape shattered by land and light as a reward. The beginning of an adventure – it was magical.

As was the university welcome in Whitworth Hall with the end of day light softening the edges of an urban world. Wood warmth without fire and a hint of a chamomile promise. Though, it didn’t take long to realise that West Penwith and friends were not far away with  Donz Mine the first poem written here in Manchester.

What a contrast it is, this whirlwind of study and writing with so many art and cultural events seemingly part of the course.

So good to be back here with Shifting Sands at last – space for important other things.