Patrick was marched up to his own front door. Tony, his Mom would listen to Foster and then issue a high pitched telling off, meant to deter us all from ever doing it again. We would be temporarily subdued. 

Later on, we would return to the quadrangle gate quietly. We would all be whispering and sniggering and daring each other to look. We would poke our heads around the corner and look to see if the window was still open. If it was, well we knew better than to “poke the dragon”, but we sometimes did just for the thrill, but today we waited until the window was closed before we ran through the washing again. 

I can’t remember any of the conversations we had, but I can vividly remember the comforting sound of her voice. I was clearly in my very, very self-conscious phase and was mostly preoccupied with getting out of there the moment my Mom’s vehicle pulled up in the croft. I was probably in that phase where I had no opinions or confidence to express myself, so always found these encounters excrutiating. 

Mrs Foster was stoic in her kindness and generosity. I’m sure she understood. She never took my ingratitude personally and was always keeping an eye on me for the next time; which turned out to be many times, that I forgot my key so she could call out of the window for me to come and sit in the warm. 

 “Seventy?”, I reply, thinking she is probably mid 70s. “I’m 89 Trace!” she declares. “Bloody Hell!” I say whilst peering through the narrow gap at her smooth, silky, brown face, all plump and soft, some white hairs prickling her hairline that is mostly the deepest darkest brown, so as to appear almost black. “You have NO wrinkles!”, I blurt out, I had way more and I was in my mid-forties. “Black don’t crack Trace!” she replied. 

That was the last time I saw her. 

In loving memory of Edna Foster, forever in my heart. 

Tracy x 

Art plays tootsies & needs to outrage

Art wants to tickle & argue on stage

It wants to scream vive la revolucion

It needs me to listen to rectify my opinions.

I want to understand and feel the injustice

There’s an art that wants to unsettle

It needs to make space for different textures

I want to scrunch in my fingers

I  need to feel to transform

I’m all fed up uh uh uh … 

I Feel Mighty Real I feel – all fed up uh uh uh – I’m the real Slim lady shimmy shimmy shimmy shaky and lately fading of the shady flat – faddy daddy fuddy duddy housework GOD! 

Wads of wipes easy wash for floors and ones for the tops – what’s it all for – no mop ‘cept on my head – why bother on Isolation Row – what’s that about a furlough? – oh no ‘unprecedented’ – a new ‘let’s be clear’ – I feel like feel it’s Madness (they call it Madness) coming on!

Furlough?  Oh got you – not furlongs cut as in a bough from a branch but off from work – we back at the ranch – the new Furl You Curfew Muthaflouter – broken like a bow down dominator meter – no fewer than two – {brace yourself} – race to chase face to face gatherers – a few flout – some doubt – will it do any good – wearing masks is the new hood – sowing deeds – pleasing needs – smoking weed – does it help – brother can you spare a spliff?  

High Street faves cave – into administration – so roll on mega mega Primark mega mega shite thing

Return of the Spiv – black market bog rolls – astronomical hand gels – conspiracy theorists ring bells – poo pooers heads swell purporting it’s drivel – I’m going slightly mad …

Said Fred – yeah Right(ly) said Fred yer did and so do we – wee weeing’s a new pastime – not using too much arse wipe – bog rollin’s bigtime – ain’t no sunshine now Bill’s gone – only bills for paying – no DWP relaying it’s parsimony!  

Money Money Money – funny – the ones who got – they got it they got it – need breaks – take take take – love me or leave me but don’t make me broke – see – 

UNPRECEDENTED President – DEMENTED TIMES THE PHRASE THE HYPE THE SOUNDBYTE THE TRITE USE IT – DESPITE VIEWS IT’S PARROTTY FASHIONED USE – for vicarious recluse – hiding in the Ridings  – no roamin’ in the gloamin’ – we’re all locked up uh uh uh uh uh yeah yeah

But not if yer BoJo and his Low Jo’s – their Spring sprung in outta town boltholes – no lockdowns in high rise – it’s Chequers love – you say you had the virus I say you try to fool us – Bo-or-is – I think that’s enough!  Well I now you looked real rough – tell us that you’re a tough Tory Toff!  And  We e e e e can’t bin thee off!

We sought him here we sought him there – we searched every Fridgidaire –is he in the City or a leafy dell = our damn elusive PMpernel

And he’s  back he’s back as a matter of fact – back with a bang with a bish bash bosh – no tosh no piffle that’s our Pfieffel – fearful and careful – in your part as be-Cumming as Nosferatu’s rats – cats got the cream – wage slave fodder pervade your dreams  of wipe out- ner ner ner ner ner ner ner …. herd us into Sleepwalk 19 Covid ner ner ner 19

This poem will be featured on an upcoming Magical Writers podcast… coming soon!

The giant ate less doctors, less firefighters and less teachers so the people were safer, healthier and smarter.

The dragon ate less treasure so the people were less hungry and less worried… And the less they worried, the healthier they were, the smaller the giant became. 

He got smaller and smaller and smaller until one day he was so small that even his tiny eyes looked big in his face!

You may ask what happened? What did the giant do?

I’d like to tell you that he stepped aside and let the people choose a new, better person to lead them so he and his dragon called Greed could live out the rest of their lives in comfort, feasting on the pleasure and gold that they’d hoarded together… But I can’t.

The giant held on to power for as long as he could, making one mistake after another after another as people died and others cried and even more still became worried and scared for the future, he still tried, even knowing he was too small and too weak to look after all these people… And soon people started feeling sorry for him and saying “he did his best” and “stop pressuring him” because he became so pathetic that even all his gold couldn’t protect him from the realisation of just how weak and small he was.

I lose time hyperfocussing on the “wrong” things like learning Welsh or mentally listing how to pack up everything in the house that isn’t even on the market yet. I get exhausted trying to wrangle this hyperfocus into doing the work I feel like I should be doing and end up staring blankly at the screen of my laptop, just refreshing my emails desperately waiting for one to drop into the inbox that might give me a kick up the arse to get going.

I yearn for my own space and then feel resentful and profoundly lonely when I actually get it. I wake up feeling buzzed and by 10 am I’ll be emotionally gutted and really down. I spend frustrated hours looking for things that are already in my hands or my pockets.

And it has leaked out more than I would like. This week alone I have turned up 3 minutes late to a project interview that was only 5 minutes walk from my house (after obsessively looking for something that was, you guessed it, already in my pocket). I went over time on my presentation (because I usually use my computer clock to keep time but I was using it to share slides…and I was too excited to talk about the place I was in to remember to set up my phone as a back-up timer). The autistic part of my brain hates being late or going over time so it starts fighting back.

And while I try to be open about where I am at with my Neurodivergence, to proudly state it’s existence in each and every room I enter…I don’t always know how to acknowledge the negative or difficult things it may have me bringing into the room, or what exactly I need to operate on egalitarian terms in neurotypically imagined/ingrained situations. I’ve definitely not nailed asking for those things yet. But hopefully I’ll get there one day soon. And hopefully, if we keep trying to improve things, keep reaching out with honest experiential stories, keep at least trying to ask for the things we need… one day soon the world will catch up.

*this isn’t what is happening here… firstly, we’re all friends here. And secondly, this is a post where I am getting some things down for the sake of clarity and awareness. We’ll get nowhere by keeping our mouths shut.

So really this little bit of writing is a small act of activism. Thanks for reading.