What Are You A Voice For?

Sunday 6th February

Day 291

Snowdrops in someone’s front garden, two nodding clumps, stop us in our tracks. My first sighting this year. We are walking to the park with dear friends and their little dog. Walking off the brunch we have just eaten, sitting around our table, still sprinkled with tiny gold stars from last night.

Earlier this morning I made cornmeal muffins to lay the ghost of the last batch which were dry and crumbly. These were moist - a different recipe - savoury and sweet, studded with chunks of white Cheshire cheese and red pepper and onion. They were good companions to scrambled eggs, crisp saute potatoes and a sloppy relish of mushroom, tomato and spinach. And gallons of Earl Grey tea. But sadly no room for croissant and marmalade.

As we walk and talk, I tell my friend about a recent phone conversation with my niece, my writer niece, who inspired me to start this blog. Ten months ago. My friend asks me,

‘What are you a voice for in your writing?’

I’m wondering about it - in my writing but also in my life. Which may be the same thing. My heart on the page.