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Wordsmith's Notebook

Monthly Archives: September 2017

He never once objected All the times I sought his view When called upon for wisdom He would know just what to do. If I reached him by letter Or by a telephone call When there was a new problem He would make my worry small. From the time I was a boy When he visited from sea To the time I was a man He was always there for me. Ever… Read More

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We so often create our own difficulty, in life.  Do you ever just stop to take stock of life and to consider how much of what you feel is pressuring you, may actually not be the slightest bit necessary?  In stress, you may feel powerless or even helpless.  You may believe that the things causing you stress are beyond your control.  Ask yourself; are they really? For example, try the following exercise: Write a list of twenty… Read More

It arrived on Monday, earlier this week.  The arrival of our post was heralded  by our otherwise gentle, soppy little dogs, Oscar and Digby; snarling and barking like savage ‘Hounds from Hell’ as they launched themselves at our front door in an effort to see-off our friendly Postman.  I went outside to our wall mounted post box; installed in a bid to ensure that our sweet, cute little dogs do not have the opportunity to ferociously rip… Read More

    Over summer, I have had a lot to think about.  Being diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease has triggered me into re-evaluating my career path.  I started training in Counselling and Psychotherapy way back in 2002 and this career has far exceeded my hopes and aspirations, in so many ways; something I try to pass on to those Counsellors and Psychotherapists who now come to see me in my role as their… Read More

What was that? I asked myself I had asked when he had gone A life so big and mighty Astonishing things he’d done. From The River, whence he came And The Green at which he grew Played tuba with Saintly bands His big dreams ran through and through. He found a new Brotherhood Of dark shadows and blood war It was there he found himself A strong man but yet impure. The end of the… Read More

One afternoon over this last weekend, I sat outside The Flying Goose Café in the wonderful antiques centre in my village, with Aunty Ann; my other-half’s lovely Aunt.  The café offered me welcome respite from trying to walk with the pain and difficulty caused by Parkinson’s.  We sat outside, in the rear garden area of the antiques centre and enjoyed a cup of coffee each.  We initially sat at a little round table for two that was, along with its two chairs, decorated in… Read More

Today, I am reflecting over attending my first post-diagnosis review at Ipswich Hospital, yesterday, with my Neurologist.  Arriving at hospital was for me, as I am sure it is for most people, a trigger for a reasonable amount of stress and anxiety.  Entering the hustle and bustle of this busy building was a stark contrast to the peace and tranquility of my quiet, rural village. Then there was the uncertainty of where to go, followed… Read More