I like Roman numbers especially ten. X looks like a letter for voting, kissing and seeing through (ray vision) . ‘On my 4th birthday I’m going to be ten’ says O for Olive and I laugh because she is serious and because choosing an age to be makes [more]

‘Everyone knew as time went by they’d get a little bit older and a little bit slower but …’ John never did. Lennon and Farquhar were two Johns who never did get old. I called my father ‘John’, he didn’t like names like daddy or pop. He loved [more]

I lie in bed seeing 8 on its side looking like infinity and remember first drawing 8, one circle on top of another. My granddaughter’s name begins with O. She asked me when she first realised this ‘What is the O for Marcia ?’ Indeed. She draws circles [more]

Last night I heard from Georg who was enquiring after my missing prose. ‘Are you ok Marcia ?’ I have been all over the place ( lit. and fig. ) I explained and thanked him for the kindness in his message of enquiry. I want to do this. [more]

In the sixties I went to school with children of the beautiful people. Only one other mother, apart from mine, wore knee length skirts. At night I would imagine my real parents, they were young Americans with big smiles and tight pants. They were Doris Day and JFK. [more]

Recently I wrote some answers to 10 questions posed by an undergraduate. This was one of the questions: Is the audience a participant of the work? Are they active/passive, and is that good/bad? I answered, ‘Yes, of course they are part of the work. They are up close, [more]

Today I am tapping on in the spirit of come-what-may writing. This morning’s sugar packet wisdom was Seneca, the younger, giving some good advice about the importance of daring to give time to things that seem difficult or impossible. Transforming the impossible. It’s unsurprising that motivational speech has [more]

Last night I dreamed of an old boyfriend of my sister’s. He was Irish and pronounced 3 as ‘tree’. In the dream I was looking at a greetings card which made it clear he had always loved my mother. There were kisses all over it and declarations of [more]

‘Upsey daisy ducksy doe that’s the way we want to go’ chants my mother as she climbs back to our apartment. We have just come back from dinner at La Palma, a restaurant by the sea where no one goes at this time of year. We were the [more]

I can’t stop now I have accepted the challenge to write 60 chapters on whatever for whoever. I was invited by Sandra Bartoli whose essays on the Tiergarten were so riveting that I read them in one sitting. A hard act to follow. I mulled over what to [more]