Memories of Writing In Residence And Other Things By Margaret Kenna It starts with the Cinnamon shop Which sounds like it should involve pastries But is actually all about memory It reminds me to ring my father Who can
Opening night at the Bloomsbury Festival: A Sense of Belonging A crowd stands watching a black and white projection on the Holy Cross Church in Cromer Street. Tucked around the back, caged in a garden, a neon tiger growls at
Fanny and Me at Bloomsbury Child me: dress-refuser and climber-upper of trees. Eyeing a book cover being flapped in front of my nose by my earnest mother. On it is a girl in a pinafore, flaxen hair flowing, kneeling in
My favourite part of today was exploring the fascinating Seeing and Perceiving Hub. Here I’ve written about my own experience of losing vision. Moorfields Eye Hospital – thank you, I’m eternally grateful. VISION I bang my head on an ancient
Reflection on ENSNARED – THE INESCAPABLE REALITY OF FATIGUE S U R V I V O R By Writer-in-Residence, Dr Joyce Datiles December 2014. The day after Christmas. To those who met me afterwards and those who knew me before,
Today was a mystery tour through an area I know so well, Bloomsbury. And yet it turned out that there was so much I’d never seen. A story garden, magical spells, ghost stories and mysterious clouds in a crypt. The
Found words Everyone has a secret A story they’ve never told What’s yours? Maypole dancing, Anne abseiling. Wonder! Hideout in the Hell hole. A radical and indomitable spirit – Curiosity and hope for connectivity. What we name and what we
A Pot of Tea A word in your shell-like colour me purple for shades of grey are not for cattle, light and dark are more than a number, our eyes able to behold a myriad spectrum. I saw
BEHOLD: the Future! A vision in shiny metal. Bewildering and be-wonderful. Everything you could hope for, everything you could imagine. All getting ready right behind this hoarding, ready for your arrival, ready to build new communities, new careers, new lives.
All of it is new A Bloomsbury Zoom Spree First, a walking tour of EYE:SPY stories: We found Dickens’ horse in Doughty Mews, All tacked up for derby day derring-dos We heard of Horse Hospital hullabaloos, And of a fox