Sparks of Eclectic Madness, III

Extracts from a writer's diary, March 2026

2/3/26

When my Grampy reads my work he tells me, 'I don't know where you find the words'. I don't know either is often my reply. It feels like they're built in. Forged in the distant constellations that you and I once called home. He prints out everything I publish. It's like he wants to get closer to it.

He's a beautiful writer himself. Like I said. Built In. I find myself beaming at the idea he enjoys my work. That's like seeing the sun from both sides.

3/3/26

One foot in front of the other, Doctor's orders. Hilarious because I saw Peter Capaldi (!!) in concert this evening and that is what he made up promise that we'd do. Perhaps that's all we can do.

5/3/26

To endeavour to live a life without regrets. Invariably moments of the past will hit you, that's those intermittent scrunches of the face, the shakes of the head, those hot flushes. Sometimes you may even find yourself hurtling to your knees in despair at time's shadows. But I think the things we may regret most are those moments of reserved kindness. Those moments where someone was struggling, and you were nice, but you were sensible. You were with limits, you regret.

7/3/26

Put those big sad eyes away, now is not the time.

10/3/26

We're told not to live in the past. And we won't. We pinky promise.

But the people we love are there. ?

12/3/26

The lights in the supermarket are so bright. Like a star up close. When I see my name written down I can't believe that's me? Looking in the mirror makes me go a little barmy. I wonder if I'll ever get there.

You know how it is.

17/3/26

I will try and try and sometimes there will be a cat and that is enough.

18/3/26

There is a ladybird on every windowsill in my house. They wander, slowly. I leave them be. Everyone and everything is going somewhere. Longing for somewhere. And usually that's called home.

24/3/26

When I was four we lived in a house with a poisonous berry tree at the bottom of the garden. It towered over the garden, plunging much of it into darkness. An anxious child, I never ventured in proximity to the bottom third of the garden, just in case the poison could jump or the shadows could grab. So I had no idea what was down there. As such, it was up to my imagination to populate the unknown.

I decided that there would be a bat that hung from the tree. I called him cat because four year old me had the same sense of humour as I do.

I wondered how well cat knew the stars.

LM ★