A few days ago, while browsing the shelves of a closing-down sale at a second-hand bookshop, I stumbled across a copy of Geraldine Brooks’ novel, Year of Wonders: A Novel of the Plague (2001). On a whim I decided to buy it, not knowing quite what to expect.

Very quickly, the engaging narrative brought me under its spell. It weaves a fiction based on the real experiences of the Peak District ‘plague village’ of Eyam, which, in an act of self-sacrifice, voluntarily quarantined itself when it became infected with the Great Plague in 1666.

The story is told from the point of view of a seemingly common young woman, Anna Frith, who works as a housemaid to the visionary rector and his wife. However, as the tale unfolds, this young woman, amidst the great loss and suffering brought by the disease, undergoes a startling transformation. Read more…

Thank You,
You have shown me
The way to the well.
Where I can drink
When my mouth is dry.
Where I can bathe
When my skin is sullied.
Where I can be refreshed
When my eyes are weary.

The way to the well
Is strewn with stones.

The way to the well
Is the way home.

Funny how in simple moments like sitting on the Victoria Line, hurtling through London’s network of tube tunnels, listening to the notes of Tracy Chapman’s voice, surrounded by sound, slipping through the seemingly mundane world, I feel so alive.

Beautiful how in such moments one can feel a deep sense of one’s own consciousness and some delicate intricacy of life’s weavings.

I just came across this shocking article about the cost of Cherie Blair’s hair maintenance.

The article claims that during the month leading up to the 2005 general election, the wife of the British Prime Minister spent £275 per day on personal hairstyling, mounting up to a total bill of £7,700.

I find it utterly sickening and irresponsible that the wife of the Labour party leader should squander wads of cash on hairspray and grooming while half of the world’s population lives below the poverty line. Read more…

Swastika, take me into your world,
Within your centre, all mysteries unfold.
Arms spin through eternal time,
With tails that trail in the winds behind.