Years ago, when our twelve year old son brought home the cat he had made in woodwork (Tech. I believe it is called now) I hadn’t the heart to tell him that actually cats aren’t spotted.

It has had pride of place for many years now on this door frame, reminding us that unique isn’t wrong,  


Another of our sons is an artist – hence this unique bike helmet. 

I am making a slow return to writing poetry. Nothing startling. Going more with a whim, or the serendipity, rather than any goal or plan.

The other day I was reading how disillusionment (something which I’ve been  tussling with in the part of my world that’s labelled ‘Writing’; bringing me in fact almost to the point of succumbing to the sweet temptation of giving up) can be taken as a signal for change.

It’s hard sticking with something where the rewards are thin. Writing itself is great fun, but the publication of what is produced is a path that is unfortunately littered and pot-holed with disappointments.

Far more attractive to sink into the world of family and domestic bliss; television, movies, music, companionship, coffee with friends, walking, gardening and reading; which in comparison to the lonely existence of a writer, is a dangerously satisfying way of life – and to be honest, at my stage of life, this more comfortable and, in a large way, ‘grandchildren-oriented way of life’ is one I’m no longer prepared to totally give up simply in order to write.

However, the urge to write; this lifelong habit; is a strong one. I will never stop. Wane and waver a little perhaps, but as long as I’m alive and able, I will write. It’s the aftermath of the writing that is problematic. In other words, publishing. (Thank God for blogging). And then to heap more punishment on a writer introverted by nature and preference – after the publication comes all the promotion. Ugh! 

So any future publications? It remains to be seen. Surprisingly (and perhaps I am the most surprised of anyone about this) I am not devastated about the possibility of no more publications from Kay McKenzie Cooke. The saying about letting something go in order for it to come back to you, comes to mind. For me personally, this new direction; this more laissez-faire approach to any future publications; is not only a personal signal for change that disillusionment has wrought – it is also a unique concept. There’s that word again. Unique. Note to self – unique isn’t wrong, in fact most times, it’s very, very right.

The poem I wrote today was easy to write as I simply copied lines taken from old notes I found in a notebook. Go HERE to read it.