A Day in the Life

Around this time of year, I usually print a little Christmas message to everyone who may read or comment on this blog. It usually goes something like this: hasn't Christmas just become an exercise in wanton materialism? And, for many, especially those experiencing mental ill health, it can be one of the most isolating and lonely times of year. As I have repeated this message now for going on four years, I thought I would change it slightly by printing a little picture of where I live, as we have just had our first Christmas snowfall. I do this in the hope that it will inspire all of us to feel a little yuletide cheer, and divert our minds from some of our current woes. So, here it is. OK, so it's not all that impressive. But you can see just a little sprinkling of snow on the pavement and on the roof of my neighbour's house. Apart from that everything looks a little soggy and grey. My mission to inspire some heartfelt Christmas bonhomie may, then, have fallen flat on i

I have sometimes written in this blog (somewhat boastfully, perhaps) of how I managed to get a book of my poetry published in 2004. The book in question, though, sold very few copies (an embarrassingly low amount, if truth be told) and now the publishers have gone into liquidation, so the book, as far as I know, will, in the very near future, no longer be available for public consumption. And, the reason I haven't publicised my book more in this blog (by letting you know its title, for example) is that I have always felt an excruciating blend of pride and embarrassment at what I have written. While I am quite pleased with some of the book, there are parts of it which I now find particularly dark, and which perhaps reflect my mindset at that time. Written on the cusp of a psychotic episode, it deals with subjects and contains vocabulary which I can only say that many would find off-putting. So, I am often loath to have those I know read it, feeling that they may wonder what on earth