Back in the saddle

It’s the kind of quiet Sunday morning made for cycling through the suburbs of Chorlton. Yet there is something out of the ordinary about one cyclist in particular. She speeds past, clad in skin tight jodhpurs with a whip balanced precariously in her basket. After almost a ten year break, I have taken up horseriding again. One of the twenty seven things I planned to do this year was to have a jumping lesson. Once was enough to make me resolve never to give it up again, repressing all thought of the expense or the embarrassment of cycling through Chorlton…

Why I Write

I would not like to say how many years it has taken to get to the point of writing this sentence. I have been struggling with the idea of writing a blog for some time now. Yet every time I sat down to write, I found myself drawn into a vortex of unattainable images; of scenes so idyllic they verge on the implausible, of flawlessly hewn bodies instagrammed to perfection, and of artfully rendered narratives absent of the suggestion of anything mundane or unpleasant. Without fail, each writing session would end with a blank page and a gnawing feeling of…