I am word-wrangler, needle-wielder, grandchild-adorer, nest-builder, rapacious reader, fair-weather traveller, half-decent cook – wife, mum, grandmother- and poet. 

Born in Dorset, where my sea connection originates (I swear my father was a merman), I was a Royal Marine Brat- my dad being in elite special forces, and difficult.  Travelling widely from childhood, I learnt to observe, pick up nuances, to fit in new places and am an inveterate ‘people watcher’. I still enjoy travel- in sunshine – but now beautiful Norfolk holds my heart. 

A reading addict– I wrote plays and stories for my poor younger siblings from about seven. The thousands of writers that sustain and entertain me – and provide temporary ‘off planet time’, feed my love of words, story and the impetus to let some of that out.  

As a teacher, librarian, advisory teacher and Deputy Head – learning and teaching always involved story, song and wordplay. I started writing again on retirement and thought I’d write children’s fiction or picture books, but whilst I dabble in prose, I emerged from chrysalis predominantly as poet.

I see poetry as an increasingly relevant form of communication and recording – in an age when many are aware of needing some sense of connection, of shared experiences and being understood on some level, to feel less other or alone- to help make sense of our world and place in it. So, I look for the everyday irony, humour and small passions in the domestic, the modest – but key, staples of life.  Much of my poetry is narrative, but I enjoy exploring language and form. Whilst usually observation led, my writing is also sparked by fantasy, fairy tale, myth and legend – often with a sting in the tail. For someone who revels in warmth and sunlight, and drawn inexorably to the sea, I am surprisingly comfortable slipping into murkier shadows and treading darker waters.

I am also interested in unlocking less heard voices. 

Mother runs in indelible ink through my core, like a stick of rock and shapes and defines part of me, hence a mother is a paperclip – but I recognise for many consumed by nurturing roles, it renders them unheard. 

Similarly, I champion older women, frequently invisible, despite an increasingly large part of the population, with experience and something to say.  

As someone with a chronic autoimmune disease and deterioration of mobility, I am cognisant that our bodies increasingly become strangers, and relate to the dismissal and patronisation that disability can bring.

My writing explores a continual evolution -we adapt, transform, reinvent ourselves in response to experiences and life choices, the complexity of relationships, and the impact of place, time and health