Other Work
Costumes
I’ve always liked fashion as a form of expression, I taught myself to sew when I was young to alter my clothes. These skills came in handy when I had the chance to perform in Andrew Logan’s Alternative Miss World. In 2014 I performed for the first time as the youngest ‘competitor’ since the show started in 1972. I took part in the next show in 2018 which is when I made these costumes. I had a great time building these pieces with the help of friends and collaborators.
Writing
Everything But The Kitchen Sink - NYT Made by Members Festival 2021
I like being tied down. Oh no, nI like being tied down. Oh no, no! Sorry! No! Not like that!
I mean, the things that tie me down make me feel safe, grounded - Family, friends, pets, plants.
I think people believe being free, I mean properly free, is to be unattached, unencumbered. I fear I would float away across the sky... across space... off into, nothing.
No, I like being tied down; I am happily encumbered, I’ve got to be home by six to feed the cat, I always make sure I’ve got a map and I always overpack. My handbag weighs a ton, but you know what?
Ya need a plaster, pen, pin or pad? I got you covered A snack? A charger for your mac or an extra sac to pack ya shoppin’ in? ‘course I’ve got a spare. Need a hair tie? Some lipstick to impress that guy, or even something to fix your broken fly?
Baby, I got ‘em all, ‘cause that’s what freedom means to me; being prepared for every eventuality.
Seaside Sonnet
We went for a walk that dragged on for hours,
We had stuff to do but we didn’t care.
We looked across fields, at trees and flowers,
We laid in the grass and breathed in fresh air.
We came to a beach of pebbles and rocks.
We drank beer and ate crisps, sat in the sun.
We climbed on the boulders, took off our socks,
We waded through the seaweed, shells and scum.
We picked up our bags, put socks and shoes on
We grabbed our empty crisp pack and bottles.
We raced up the beach and of course, you won.
We stood on the top panting, colossal.
We looked at the long path, the fields, the land.
We had to cross to get home, hand in hand.
The life of a mouse - A short story
I was born, along with my 7 siblings when the sun was rising and the land was still crying droplets from the night before.
It was the time when everything is born, the plants birth their buds which will one day grow to be our nutrition. The birds build their nests, sit on their eggs, watching for a twitch in the grass. My mother told us all the be weary of the cry of a bird, one of my siblings was not, six risings of the sun after we left the nest, he ran through the field and was carried away to a nest, to the eggs which had hatched, but I was still, then I grew. My coat became thick and my whiskers long. Over the passing of many setting suns and as it became hotter and the world exploded into heat and life I ventured further from our warm burrough.
I ran along hedgerows and ate buds, berries and blossoms. Once I climbed a strong blade of grass and saw what it would be like to be a bird, I didn’t like it. So much empty space, where I live there is a bounty of life. Worms, bugs, beetles and then one day a mouse.
I saw him, with his shinny coat and he saw me, we stopped. Slowly we came closer. He smelled like dry earth and hay. We moved forward together. We found a nice spot, with soft dry earth, under a hedgerow and we made a borough, we made our lives.
The Alphabet of Love
(To be read aloud, it’s a phonetic alphabet)
I love you more than an amphitheatre of amazing actors aluminating Aristotle.
More than a band of beautiful babies bouncing boisterously.
More than a cacophony of cats crying for crispy croissants.
I love you more than every elephant elegantly elevanting it’s ears on earth.
More than frothy frappuccinos fantastically framed in facebook photos.
More than gargantuan grapes glistening in gilded gold goblets.
Heaps more than hefty hunks hugging and high-fiving for home-runs.
I love you more than eyes indicating an instinct to initiate intimacy.
More than jelly jiggling in a jeweled jug
More than kind kisses kept close by couples.
More than lounging, laying, lazing and lolling lusciously in lovely lingerie.
Much much more than money, minted this minute but made mank by mean misers.
I love you more than nice neet knitting knit by a nan in her nineties.
More than ostentatiously over ordering onctuous horderves.
More than the plentiful pollination of proudly purple perennial plants.
I love you more than the quivering quafs of the queen’s quartet.
More than ridiculously risque racing round rock-pools.
So much more than sad songs sung soft as sighs.
More than tasty treats tantalising my tongue.
I love you more than utterly unutterable utterances uttered in ultimate urgence. (gossip)
More than very vivacious villainesses vying for vengeance and victory.
Way more than wonderful women working with wild wilder-beast.
More than yearning for my years of youth.
More than the zealous zeal of zigzagging zambonis.
I love you more than all the words in the world made into one poem or story or song,
I love you more than everyone.