Skip to main content

My daily bread



My desk. We are not usually this cramped but we are undergoing a refurbishment which means we are a bit squeezed together and there is very little natural light.

I spend so much of my free time online and now in this new job my work is pretty similar, my manager is in Hong Kong, a colleague in Japan most of the team-working and discussion done by phone, email or
skype. It is a big change after 20 years of very present and embodied teaching and managing.

The devices we use to access our world become increasingly invisible until we photograph them.

Popular posts from this blog

My Self-Help Addiction

Today I am getting up close and personal with my self-help habit.  I have been looking for answers for years but seem no closer to finding them than when I first began to look.  Could it be that the search is futile?

From blogging to vlogging

So I started a YouTube channel called Imagine the North, and here is the first video.  It is my attempt at picking up where I left off when the blogging muse failed me.  Let's hope the muse of vlogging is a little more tenacious.  It is rough and ready, I need a lot of practice but here goes.  Love.

Journalling - humble beginnings

When I was about 10 years old I had a sleep-over at a friend's house. We got ready for bed and went to say good night to my friend's mum who was herself sitting up in bed writing in a notebook.
"What are you writing?" I asked.
"Well, actually I am writing about you" she smiled. "Every night I write the day's events in my diary, the things I did, what made me happy and what made me sad. Right now I am telling my diary how you came to spend the day and night at our house."
My friend's mum, her bright coloured pyjamas and her glasses perched on her nose with a double drape of beaded chain swinging from each temple, instantly became promoted to the coolest person I knew. She was talking to her diary, about me no less.

Subsequently I became one of those people who started a diary on January the first every year of my life (since I have been able to write) and rarely made it past Epiphany. Maybe once or twice I dragged my pen into February …