Pages from a Diary

Personal essays and emotive histories

Breaking the Cycle

  My health app starts to crack near day 47 of my menstrual cycle. Since going off hormonal contraception (for good this time!), I’ve started

The Door Handle

My father appeared in my doorway on the first Monday of the New Year to inform me that my grandfather had died. I responded with

No Goodbye

From my early childhood Lenny Myers was my best friend as I grew up in Post-War Rushden, Northamptonshire where we had both been born. We

Hand-holding in the Streets

‘To hold each other’s hands is to have balance. Yet it also means having their weight with you, should there be a sudden fall.” – D.

Between Nowhere and Manywhere

I am mixed. Multi-ethnic. Biracial, if you will, although this word is an uncomfortable one for me. While the word “biracial” suggests division, the word

The First Supper

In the first year of undergraduate school, unable to conjure the words for “homesick” and “lonely” in an unfamiliar city, I wrote ever so often

Of Silver Spoons and August Moons

“Jack Kennedy, Joe’s second son, had just reached his twenties, and my mother had two or three years on him, but he was soon deeply smitten by her Latin charms.”