I still haven’t found what I’m looking for


Don’t give up

Tonight, tonight, tonight

Something about you

True Colors

Love Bites

Don’t dream it’s over


She’s like the Wind

Livin’ on a Prayer

If you leave

What you need


Never tear us apart

Oh Sherrie

Hold me now

Head over heals

Heat of the Moment

Synchronicity II

Sister Christian

Mandolin Rain

Send her my love

Did it in a minute

99 Luftballons

Steppin’ Out

Break my Stride

Sunglasses at Night

Hurts so Good

Let’s go Crazy

Play the game

The Best of Times

West End Girls

It’s a Mistake 

We Two


Run to you

The Search is over

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a tribute

Judging others makes us blind, 

There is meaning in every journey 

unknown to the traveller.

Christianity preaches the infinite worthlessness 

of that which is seemingly so valued.

One act of obedience

is worth a hundred sermons.

We must learn to regard in the light

of what people suffer.

By judging others we blind ourselves 

to the grace which others are entitled.

How can God entrust great things to one 

who will not thankfully receive from

Him the little things?

We do God’s work for when we

listen to our brothers and sisters.

Silence in the face of evil is itself evil:

Not to act is to act.

Nothing that we despise in other men 

is inherently absent from ourselves.

We are not to simply bandage the wounds of victims 

beneath the wheels of injustice, 

we are to drive a spoke into the wheel itself.  

How can God entrust great things to one 

who will not thankfully receive from Him the little things?

Seek God, not happiness – 

The figure of the Crucified invalidates all thought 

that takes success for its standard.

The ultimate test of a moral society is the

kind of world that it leaves to its children.

This work was taken from quotes from Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a theologian and pastor during World War II who spoke out against Hitler’s anti-Semitism, who created the Confessing Church, who was offered the opportunity to escape Nazi tyranny but who stayed in Germany and was sentenced to death in April 1945.  As an historian, I was moved by Bonhoeffer’s bravery in the face of injustice.  I have consequently been moved to speak out against prejudice – as this is my social responsibility. 


Emily Dickinson, a tribute

I first surmised the Horses’ Heads 

It is as a Vesuvian face

Between the Heaves of Storm

On whom I lay a Yellow Eye.

More numerous of Windows – 

The Stillness in the Room

Repeal the Beating Ground – 

Were toward Eternity – 

Hope is the thing with feathers – 

Superior – for Doors –

I’ve heard it in the chilliest land – 

Rowing in Eden – 

To Hands I cannot see – 

Ah! The sea!

As Freezing persons, recollect the snow – 

First – Chill – then stupor – then the letting go – 

Judge tenderly – of Me.

This poem has been created from lines of Emily Dickinson’s poems listed below and from the website on the link.

I’m Nobody! Who are you (1861) 

“Hope” is the thing with feathers (1861)

This is my letter to the World (1862)

I dwell in Possibility (1862)

I heard a Fly buzz – when I died (1862)

It was not Death, for I stood up (1862)

After a great pain, a formal feeling comes (1862)

Because I could not stop for death (1863)

My life has stood – a loaded Gun (1862-64)


Bow down

Felis catus clad in a pink collar and silver heart vocalised insistently from the top of the block bookcase, her long smooth whiskers proud like feathers brushed along the white wall. 

She gracefully padded down a level, turned and sat graciously, ears elegant and pinched up on either side, staring with owly eyes.  Bastet’s sleek fur shiny.  She speaks her decree with a thin brush-like tongue:

You may give me your coronation gifts now, some mice to play with, a ruby gem to go with my silver heart, a new gemmed collar, and a hot water bottle for the window ledge, this request is not compulsory; however, one is confident of expecting your kind generosity!

Long lives to you, my Queen!

Lonely sky circles

Nocturnal movements wearing the black hat,
The night dweller clamoured over mushrooms and
delicate-perfumed night blossoms
dancing around tousled leaves
While searching the fleeting prey.
She was laden with implements:
Tripods, notebooks full of drawings and
balanced equations like a woman with a blindfold,
or a perfect circle,
telescope lenses mirroring the quarry
She hunts in the star-garden year-round
Clamouring to the precipice to gaze out.
She lives in the dark to
Search the elusive light.

Wild light galloped over billions of years
without tiring or slowing
landing on photographic plates
with a friendly acknowledgment to reveal
A sky dance of geometric angles and
precise art of cog wheels.
Cosmic circles – perfect and imperfect –
circumnavigate the known universe.
Elliptic flowing discs and transit
colours of heavenly opals
Were divulged to the huddled troglodyte.
She stared in awe,
But sighed with melancholy at the
Inability to touch –
despite grasping.


As a woman, having an internal examination is never something that I have gone to with a skip in my step.  I was young and first sexually active in the US so I went to Planned Parenthood for my first gynaecological examinations.  It was extremely well organised: I remember the table having stirrups, my bottom was ever so slightly over the edge of the table, there was plenty of light for the person performing the examination, and every item for the examination is close to hand.  The doctor was placed – very much like a baseball catcher – in between the legs and can easily see when the patient becomes nervous (according to the position of the legs!).  It was well organised, quick and painless.  I can say that, although I don’t enjoy internal examinations, it’s a test that I do not mind nor miss.

I therefore had a certain expectation when I moved and settled in the UK: I thought the examination would be the same. In one way it is: it’s a retrieval of cells on the cervix. In almost every other way, it’s a bit different. For instance, possibly because doctor’s offices are small, tables are against the wall lengthways and don’t have stirrups. Patients are expected to lay on the table with feet together – I liken it to a strange yoga position – while doctors move a light to the lady-garden area and then the doctor performs an act of contortion over the bent knee and dumping the brain onto the table in order to see where the examination contraptions are going. In this position, it is difficult/impossible to grasp the implements without growing an extra hand or two. In fact I have offered to hold the speculum in place while a doctor aimlessly grasped across the room for implements! Keeping the accoutrements nearer, say on the table, is not an option due to the placement of the feet. You can only imagine how I stood by the table the first time wondering where my feet went! I hopped up and slid towards one end of the table, kicking like an upside-down frog, kicking to find the non-existent stirrups.

The worst internal examination I’ve had was with a training doctor: he put the speculum in but tried to crank it open in parallel with the table, which of course didn’t work. If he’d have taken it out and tried again gently it wouldn’t have been so bad but he wrenched it around to the perpendicular. I shouted and my arms shot out! In an ideal world, I would have caught hold of his testes as I said “Don’t EVER do that again!” but I didn’t get his jewels. Shame. However, he was so shocked that I shouted at him that I’m sure he’s never done it again. I was sore for a few days but wasn’t traumatised. Having said that, I do wish I could have the tests done in the US just for the ease and speed for which these things are done.