Where it all began

early days at school
early days at school

I began life in rural Oxfordshire: in a village of both political and religious dissent; a place that harboured secrets and where tales of witchcraft still whispered in the walls. Within that context, I was nomadic from the age of two.  

My mother suffered from serious mental health issues and, although her mother (Nanna) was drafted in to fill the mothering space, I was determined to be free range. Family time and energies were caught up with other things and, with a close village community, my wanderings rarely caused concern.

Perhaps it was the notion of things not being right at home that lead people to take me in, or perhaps I was an enchanting child. Whatever the reason, I walked through open doors and many that were normally closed. I was welcomed at tables where others feared to go and it is that broad church of experience, that began to carve the person that is me.

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Opening the Door

This blog is intended as an episodic memoir: piecing together, and reflecting on, the shards of my past. To me, the entries will be factual, although caution tells me my perspective cannot always be correct. I do not seek to offend, indeed most persons mentioned are no longer with us, but it should be noted the events and circumstances that created me, the consequential philosophies I’ve come to hold, do not sit easily in the normalised world.

It is written in conjunction with a PhD in Creative Writing, beginning 1st October, 2015 – born of a lifelong interest in literary representation: the projected outcomes being the creation of an abstracted novel, and the publishing of an academic treatise exploring both the research findings and the creative process.

I’d be privileged if you would join me on my journey.

AG