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Vivere Senza Paura

(Live without fear) This post has been a very long time in the making, not just typing it out and composing the words but also having it quite certain, or as certain as it can be in my head. I’ll take you back a few years first; About 21 years ago I bought a little apartment in Italy, it’s part of a 12th Century castle and it’s all it should be with beams, tiled floors, a leaky toilet cistern, a fireplace and a view out onto a garden filled with lavender, rosemary and olive trees. I can still remember the first time I saw the place; I was with a friend from work who had come along with me on my viewing trip to Umbria. We drove around some winding mountain roads and as we turned a corner, to one side was a stunning medieval hill town with the valley in the distance, perched on top of a rocky outcrop, like something other worldly, but to the other side, was a tiny bell tower on top of a hill. 

That bell tower, built by Franciscan monks and housing a bell brought from Rhodes (so the story goes) belonged to the castle, and it was a little more than love at first sight (rose tinted specs went right out the window). It all began even further back, following a short lived marriage and once the dust settled on the divorce papers, I realised I needed to make some kind of future proof investment. Or at least buy part of a castle in Italy. I opted for the latter. Every year since, apart from the unmentionable joy that was Covid, I have been over at least once. It was the first place I wanted to be once I’d recovered from breast cancer and not surprisingly after a couple of years of more recent life ups and downs, the place I want to be at most of all. It has something magical about it, it rebalances my brain and rebolsters my supply of shoes. I’ve been there enough now to have chucked the pink tinged glasses in the bin and stopped a long time ago from wondering why the DIY shops are shut on Saturday lunchtimes, when surely that’s when they do most business. I only needed telling once, ‘well they have to eat’ was the stellar reply. A country where they take their food seriously and also use, believe it or not very few fresh ingredients to create some of the best food in the world. Plus also, of course some lyrical inspiration from George.

‘In the absence of security, I made my way into the night’ – George Michael

And so, I made an enormous and life changing decision to move to Italy, for good. I completed on the sale of my house last month, loaded everything apart from a car full of luggage plus my cats, into a lorry and moved myself into a little flat for a couple of weeks while the cats underwent all their EU vaccinations and AHC’s. Then, we boarded LeShuttle and started a 2 ½ day, one way, road trip to Umbria. I had my last hair cut at the salon I’ve been going to for over 20 years, said goodbye to friends and family (who I am fully expecting to visit asap) and we headed into what was to be one of many tunnels. Night one was in Nancy, a fairly basic hotel, I just about fitted my case and two cats in. Zero sleep that night, and the next day dragged into a further series of tunnels as we snaked our way across that corner of France. The Vosges mountains couldn’t be dented by the rain and drizzle as we crossed into Switzerland. Weirdly Switzerland isn’t what I expected, or at least all the bits I saw. More or less every valley was occupied by a pharmaceutical factory, these things are vast and the towns were less than idyllic, that is until we swung through the last of the next batch of (yes, you’ve guess it…) more tunnels.  I also discovered the role of being in the front passenger seat in a RHD vehicle; you’re chief in charge of toll booth tickets and payments. 

Somewhere in Switzerland

Since arriving it has been to say the least a week of unexpected light and the sadness of the death of Pope Francis. Let’s hope the next one fills his well-worn shoes, I won’t say who my Euros are on, in case I jinx it.

Conclave starts on May 7th.

I’ve made a restart (after last summer) on house or flat hunting, seen a few definite no’s and one possible contender. The cats are slowly settling in, although living in a medieval castle is at times quite noisy, all those hard terracotta tiled floors carry every sound from your neighbours. One of the cats keeps hiding in the wardrobe while the other is a little braver and has realised, she can jump off my hand painted cupboard and land squarely on my bladder first thing in the morning. The spring festivals are underway and so far, cheese, tulips and asparagus, plus I found the most amazing fresh pasta shop; waddled home with a bag full. 

They say you should follow your dreams; life is too short, and you only live once… you know all the rest. For most of us we say these things and don’t do it, or at least not in any way that truly constitutes following a dream. But I’ve sailed too close to death myself and lost too many others, wondering what is coming next, to hesitate anymore over what has on one side been a tortuous 10 months of selling, decluttering and getting rid of over half my possessions, not to mention an awful lot of shoes, while on the other looking forward to a life in Umbria.  Time can be a storm in which we allow ourselves to be lost, but it can also be one that brings us joy, gelato, homemade pasta and all the Aperol’s. I’m going with the latter. 

And to end appropriately with a quote from one of my most favourite songs;

Ah, might as well jump (jump!)
Go ahead and jump
Might as well jump (jump!)
Go ahead and jump

By: E & A Van Halen & David Lee Roth

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A Game of Two Halves

Someone asked me the other day how I cope with the times in life when I feel sad, unhappy, tearful, fed up and even a little bit broken. But importantly how I feel when I look back at the times in my life when it’s been absolutely bloody brilliant; like the night when I sang ‘I want to break free’ at 1am dressed as Freddie Mercury with a carriage full of Friday night drunks, or felt real love, or danced under a sky full of African stars, got the keys to part of an Italian castle or had the best plate of scallops ever. Let me tell you I’ve had some truly stellar adventures. 

The bright side of life… oh come on…

But whack on top of that, cancer, way too much loss and grief, an abusive and highly coercive relationship that left me in the hands of Trauma Assist, job loss, moving house because I had to and yet more grief and loss. I find a lot of joy in being kind to others, in supporting them and that can be an invitation to a crazy concert, or just a well timed cake. But being kind to yourself is also important and I’m a rotter for forgetting that at times, and knowing that I need to stop and be the one that makes me smile. But also, when you are feeling shitter than a shitty thing, that maybe what you need is a small treat, or even a massive one.

I’ve always believed that you should make the effort, whether it’s to support a friend, or make sure your neon pink wig is on straight. Never regret that you didn’t do everything to make the sparkles appear, that you were kind to yourself just because…

Because to quote the great, late Freddie Mercury, ‘it’s a kind of magic.’

Brian May, 02 – 9 June 2022

And that is where the balance in life comes to play, for each of the unspeakably godawful hours, days and months there have been friendships that I will always cherish and a newfound appreciation for fancy dress. So, we need to somehow remind ourselves that when it all seems darker than a sooty coal hole, there is light there, you may just not have found it quite yet.

At 3am this morning, my alarm went off, nope, not going on holiday. A very old friend of mine had died, it was his funeral on the other side of the world. We were at uni together and just thinking about him makes me laugh, he was one of those people who just loved and embraced life, that is until cancer struck and stole him away from his beautiful family. We had stayed in touch over the intervening years… he got married, had incredibly beautiful daughters, he sailed, went scuba diving and I loved seeing his retirement sailing trips with his wife on Facebook. Then last year his head of red hair disappeared, and he looked thin, and I knew I just knew… I was struck as I sat in bed watching his loved ones say goodbye, they came up and spoke one by one for over an hour and it was humbling to say the least. But I’ll take one story from this to keep my point going; One of his sailing friends told this tale about how he (the friend ) had bought a yacht called The Waking, one night my friend, after a few beers and a convenient can of paint, changed it to The Wanking, and it stayed that way so they could laugh at seeing it on their yacht club race league tables. And this is why we were pals. But also this is what I am trying to say, that for every moment that tears our hearts in half, there is also waiting for you, a slice of the happy pie. In the early hours this morning, while we all said goodbye and were broken at his loss, his family were so clearly celebrating his smile, his jokes, his ability to throw a party, rename boats with a can of paint and to love those around him. But most of all he was kind, it reminded me of how important it is, to be so to others but also to yourself.

For those of you familiar with the Lebanese poet, Kahlil Gibran, he most eloquently explained this whole conundrum, why do we feel such sadness at times, such despair and others we can’t stop laughing. How do we dig ourselves out of a hole and keep walking forwards. It’s that bloody balance thing, it’s because in order to understand one we need to have experienced the other. Without knowing sadness, we can’t appreciate the times of joy, and vice versa. It’s like the universe’s version of Sod’s Law, but take from it, this little bit of wisdom, when you are feeling utterly pants, it won’t last forever. 

When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

And just in case you still aren’t convinced, that when facing a bad day, that you need to remind yourself that you can, and you will dance again. That every day has a light and a dark. That life, if you like to see it that way, is a game of two halves. They will balance out. If it helps when you feel great, write it down, then you can turn to that page and remember. When I was sick with cancer I had some counselling to help cope with the abject fear and she asked me what made me smile, what lifted me, what was it that gave me some warmth back? She made me write it down and I have that piece of card still, it says ‘Barry White, mirror ball moment’ and there you have it, the secret to some self kindness.

Pinched from Ally McBeal

 I’ll finish with a quote from another fabulous poet, the legend that is Kate Bush.

I know you’ve got a little life in you left
I know you’ve got a lotta strength left

This one’s for Steve, and I hope you are in the sunshine, wherever you are.

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The Most Important Light

Last week I was heading into London to get my hair cut, I parked my car at the station and headed over the footbridge, there is a lovely view for miles down the straight track, with the South Downs in one direction and the castle in the distance in the other. But last week, there was young man standing crying, and I mean really crying. His face was red, and his eyes were that blotchy swollenness, that told me he’d been sobbing for ages. 

I stopped and asked him if he was okay, and the flood gates opened as he cried even harder while he told me his father had died and he just couldn’t stop the tide of grief, it was constant, and he was broken with abject sadness. 

I noticed someone from the station staff edging closer, and I realised the potential seriousness of the situation. But I kept talking to him, and I gave him a hug and said how sorry I was, and said he was obviously really close to his dad, and how special he must have been to him. He then told me, that his father had passed two years ago, and he just was not getting beyond his overwhelming sadness. I could see the panic in his face, as he felt literally trapped and had no way of knowing which way to go with his pain.

I shared with him my own sorrow, that my father had died some years ago and that grief has no timeline and it’s always okay to cry and to miss someone so much your heart feels like it’s cracking open. How the smallest things will set you off at random, for me it could be at a supermarket and seeing a massive bar of Cadburys wholenut, my father’s favourite, or just simply out of the blue for no reason other than my eyes just decided to leak like their life depended on it. The times I have stood and turned my face away from others, as the loss of my father was overwhelming, not wanting to share my hearbreak. But it’s okay, to miss someone you loved that much. 

I offered him my Mars bar as by this point, I was trying to keep him talking and distract him; he had a dairy allergy. From my other pocket I produced an apple… he laughed a little through his tears.  I said I always have a small buffet on me for emergencies, you never know when you need a snack. 

I asked him which train he was getting, and it was the same as me, so I asked if he’d walk with me (sneaky distraction technique) as I had bad knees after my surgery. As we walked, he told me how he used to work with his father, and they lived together and bit by bit the love he had for him just spilled out of his every word. He was absolutely broken with grief. A few more words and tears, and he told me he was going into London for a medical appointment as he’d injured his neck in a bike accident years ago, his dad would have gone with him, they’d have had a day out. Now he was on his own. If you could ever tangibly feel sorrow, it was in that moment. 

The train came and we got on, I could see he wanted to sit alone so I just sat a few rows along and let him know if he wanted to come and sit with me if he just wanted the company that was okay. He showed me a photo of him and his father, must have been a family wedding, peas in a pod and both so happy. I showed him one of my papa and me, and it all of a sudden reminded me that this month was the anniversary of his death. In that second, I realised that I hadn’t just helped him, he’d helped me as well. By sharing my experience of grief, I’d put into words how I feel and also how I try and manage those raw emotions when they do hit me. And they still do. Often.

He wanted to know if it gets easier, not really, I replied, but somehow you learn to cope with it, most of the time. But there are also days when it just is okay to cry and feel that your heart won’t be the same ever again. I like to think it won’t, in a way I think that’s how it should be, when someone you loved that much passes. 

One of my favourite films has a quote at the end, which puts this into far better words than I can … and I’ll paraphrase, as it’s in Italian;

The secret of memories, is that everyone leaves a trace of themselves with you.

That way you are never alone. 

(from La Finestra di Fronte)

They say that the most important light is the one that you cannot see. That there is so much to life that goes unnoticed, and while it’s unbelievably hard some days to recognise positivity, it’s there. There will be days when that light helps you go forwards, like some sneaky torch just leading you on a little bit nearer to the hope that life can wrap sunshine all around you. But also, that loving someone and missing them is entirely okay, just know that there will be days when you can feel life is good.

If I had words to sing a day for you

I’d sing you a morning golden and new

I would make this day last for all time

Give you a night, deep in moonshine

By Scott Fitzgerald

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Famous Last Words

As a creative copy writer, my thoughts always veer towards the opening line – the how you engage, hook, and interest your reader and audience. But recently and for the worst kind of reasons, I’ve started thinking about those last words, their impact, their outpouring of emotions or are they stifled and trapped inside, taken with us and leaving a space of doubt, hope and a helpless void for the one left behind. In whatever form that takes. 

How do we want to end what we say – be it that last sentence in a blog, book, press release, words to our family as we leave in the morning, or those actual very ‘last words.’

A friend of mine is struggling to breathe, cancer is consuming her, and she is giving it her everything to stay here and live. Keeping on talking to our little group of friends in our WhatsApp group. She’s written letters to leave behind and a book of instructions for her funeral. She’s prepared in all the ways she can, apart from the sadness of knowing it is hurtling towards her and what to say, what can you say? But say you must. 

Over the years I have become a firm believer in telling people that you love them, showing them that you care – they are in your thoughts. You don’t always get that other chance to say or show it, when that moment, that breath of tangible air sits between you and the other to speak your truth. And that is how my friend is living, what I hope will be more than her last days, but I’ve told her – in the middle of the night when I know she is awake, IV stuck in her vein; on a card, on a call – I’ve shared how I feel about her. 

When you are writing, recording, filling in those blanks in your email or whatever, think about what you are saying, and not just how it starts, but how it finishes. What will you leave in that space at the end, what do you want to say that counts. 

Then write it down and say it. 

For Jenn.

All our love and all our pain
Will be but a tune
The Sun and the Moon
The wind and the rain
Hand in hand we’ll do and die
Listening to the band that made us cry
We’ll have nothing to lose
We’ll have nothing to gain
Just to stay this real-life situation 
For one last refrain.

Songwriters: Nicky Holland / Roland Orzabal (from Famous Last Words)

Contact me at: writeupmystreet@btinternet.com 

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Say it right

Apologies for the lack of posts over the last month or so, I got Covid for the first time. Made it all through lockdown and then boom…Happy New Year. Then right after that kidney stones. Well so far 2024, has been a proper laugh. 

But today, I don’t want to talk about me, I want to talk about communication. Not just those verbal things we utter, but also how we say things, how we express ourselves, how we write, and how do we put those words into non-verbal communication. 

And yes, as always for me there is a song to accompany my thoughts on this;

In the day, in the night
Say it right, say it all.

Songwriter: Nelly Furtado 

And by say it all, I’m talking about those times when we assume that the other person knows what we are saying, so we leave out huge chunks. Sometimes this is true – they can read our minds, knowing us all too well – but when it isn’t so, and they really do not know what your all is. You may not get that second chance, to say how you feel, if it’s important enough to you to your brand or whatever, then speak your truth. 

Saying it right is equally as important as the words themselves, do you need to choose a time when it is quiet – just the two of you, or do you need a meeting room and some preparation to ensure everyone engages with you? If you would love that person or people to remember your words, to read what you have said and know it, then preparation can sometimes be as important as grabbing that moment as impulsively as any runaway emotions. But ultimately when Nelly said, ‘say it right’ she was not wrong.

Imagine if a friend comes round to see you, you’ve been really looking forward to catching up, maybe you’ve cooked dinner and tidied the house. But when they turn up, they don’t even greet you or acknowledge you, rather they just blurt out why they have had such a godawful journey and just talk about themselves for the next 20 minutes. Not even a hello how are you. Okay, worst case scenario here, you give them dinner to take out and wave them off on what you will probably now hope will be an equally bad journey back. Or do you explain how you feel – remember, communication is a very big two-way thingmajig?

Conversation, words and visual communication all form the building blocks, the crucial foundations of what we want to say. Leave a bit out and suddenly you have a gap, a chance for missing the point, omitting what matters to you, what might be most important and valuable to the other person. A raised eyebrow or a wry smile can say everything we need to, when that person knows you. That expression can catch them and bring you together in understanding what the other has to say. 

These two photos were taken moments apart, but look at the difference in those two moments and the expressions and the communication that took place when they faced each other and made that moment matter.

Namibia, 2010

Communicating can be as eloquent as letting people know that they look great, that you have made their day or that their shoelaces are undone – are all part and parcel of what makes us human. What makes us want to look and listen and understand. Have you ever had a stranger just tell you, that they love your outfit or that your kindness made them smile and feel seen? Communicating our feelings and our wishes is as much a part of being in the human race as it is important to our minds and our understanding. 

With the advent of social media now totally entrenched into our lives, it can become more complex still – what font are you using, what colours, is your text in Comic Sans, centred and looking like a church hall tea party invite, or were you after something more captivating?  You have a short time frame to grab their attention, but also if you want someone to know that your product is 100% vegan, or that you are only open on Mondays from 2pm – 4pm, then you need to say so. 

And before you hit send, check your punctuation…. 

As usual, I will finish with another eloquent song lyric.

… I’m just a soul whose intentions are good
Oh Lord, please don’t let me be misunderstood.

Songwriters: Bennie Benjamin / Gloria Caldwell / Sol Marcus (The Animals)

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Hand on Heart

I have a thing about hands, they hold us as humans, tightly together, they reach out for us when we need them most and they can hold a pen to write or type out our thoughts and emotions. They are practical and sensual all at once.

Hands can be delicate and strong all at the same time, yet in the most powerful and emotive ways. You know that sensation, when you stick your hands into a warm sandy beach and all at once you feel the enveloping heat and at the same time, the scouring of the grit, forming a collision of senses. Well, finding what is the beating heart of your brand is often very similar. You need to find what inspired you from the outset – what was your heat, what touched your heart? And then mix that, with the gritty reality of securing your company or your brands future.

Now, if you squeeze your eyes tightly so they are almost completely closed, so that the darkness on the inside of your lids just lets in the smallest slice of light, but yet one that shows you the most beautiful of views, then you are close to where I am going with all of this. 

Umbrian olive trees at sunrise

I was speaking with a client earlier this week, planning and creating a brochure for their Italian home and also their business. It is in the most breathtaking location, surrounded by olive trees, a castle in the distance, and the occasional wandering wild boar. Intrinsically it is immediately, more than just what we regularly think of as a brand product or a price tag. For them it’s about a conversation that opens up their hearts and minds, that will allow you as the reader to dip inside just long enough that you are able to read the words that they are only imagining; then, through that beam of light, you can see when you almost close your eyes, concentrating their vision onto a page so it engages and enthrals the reader, or a potential buyer or investor.

My words as a copywriter, must tread between those two universes, meshing the fingertips together so that as you read, your heart and mind pull tightly close together and as you exhale, know that those words have captured both elements in that enthralling single breath.

And just like that they had their mission statement. 

‘As humans, by sharing our view, we can create a better life‘

What will be yours?

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Sing it Back

Someone asked me the other day about what I love most about writing, honestly, I think it is about telling a good story – getting underneath every layer of it, whether that is my story, your story, a brand, a moment in time, an emotion, or a song. 

That got me thinking about the importance of song lyrics and how for many of us we connect to moments in our lives with music; whether we were on holiday, a broken romance, a truest love or a long journey with the window down, rain trickling through the gap while belting out rock n roll, so loud as we stay awake for those last few miles home. 

I was driving around the M25 one evening, heading towards East Sussex, it was the day after Meat Loaf had died, in a year when way too many people had lost their lives to the pandemic that was 2020 and 2021. 

I had remembered when the story broke on the news, about a time when I was singing one of the songs from the Bat out of Hell album, the duet with Marion and Meat, really (really) badly with one of my school friends. It was just after the record first came out; we were all obsessed with it. I even had Bat out of Hell on a 12’’ blood red vinyl special edition. Anyway, I was Meat, as back then I had all the hair. We were appalling, me especially, I have never, ever been able to hold a tune – but we loved the album and the unrelenting passion it had for life, love, and those skin-peeling raw emotions. It was bare your heart out stuff and that’s right where we were as angry teenagers. We were living life loud and with nothing held back, at that moment, dancing on the desks at school.

I think I could genuinely think of a music lyric that connects any emotion to a song, that has in turn meant something to me. It seems completely right when explaining why lyrics and my love of writing are so interconnected as they join those emotions and passions – with barely a visible seam, pressed together sharing words in that moment. I guess, what I want to say more than anything else, is that even when we are at our lowest point, or conversely, even when we think life couldn’t top that precise moment of joy, when telling and living our story, that there will always be so much more. 

You just need to find it and live that second. Like a bat out of hell.

And I think somebody somewhere must be tolling a bell
And the last thing I see is my heart,
Still beating still beating
Still beating still beating
Breaking out of my body, and flying away

Like a bat out of hell

By J. Steinman

With thanks to Marvin Lee Aday, for allowing me to realise what a good story really means.

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Heart to Heart

While I am no scientist, although I did used to read Gray’s Anatomy in the bath, as there was invariably a copy lying about the house, and once I dressed up my brother’s skeleton on the dining room table. That aside, my skills are more on the right side of the brain, I’m the arty creative one in the family. But that doesn’t stop me from having a huge heart and wanting to use my skills to improve patient to physician communications, to encourage better understanding of treatments, drugs and ultimately to improve the health and lives of others.

Grays Anatomy

Years ago, I spent a year studying anatomy and physiology, then another two years training as an aromatherapist and complementary healthcare practitioner. Consumer health for me is a page that should not be left unturned. I spent many hours while living in New York as a First Responder and was part of my towns Emergency Rescue Squad. Weekends saw me driving the ambulance and supporting the crew on everything from bar brawls to transporting critical care patients to high level facilities. 

While working for a herbal tea company for about 18 years, I promoted it’s health giving properties – notably for digestive issues and benign skin conditions. I collaborated with dieticians, herbal practitioners, writing and even speaking to nursing staff on continence care. I raised thousands for causes in South Africa, where the tea originated, aligning with key UN Millennium Development Goals around healthcare – in particular, HIV, Malaria and TB. I also volunteered for a year helping a London women’s charity, with their social media on FGM. It was harrowing interviewing and meeting women who had been cut, but each time it just reaffirmed to me that I was using my writing and marketing skills in the right way. 

Eventually the pull was so strong that I made a huge decision to step away from the brand world and retail marketing and step into working for health agencies as an Account Director. It’s been tough during Covid (timing wasn’t my strong suit!) but the ingenuity of the teams that work across medical education, digital platforms, media, new drug launches, patient and practitioner campaigns, is endless and never ceases to amaze me and to feel incredibly proud to be part of changing patient outcomes.  It has without question given me a fundamental sense of purpose, a long day becomes something incredibly worthwhile, an early meeting has focus, all the while working with a team of like-minded people. 

My advice to you is that you should always follow those dreams and passions. Because those goals are what you aspire to be or do, they give you a sense of meaning and purpose.

Your dreams are something that drives you on those long days. By following your dreams, you’ll become a better and happier person all in that one process.

‘Let your heart guide you…it whispers so listen closely. ‘

WALT DISNEY

Sometimes it may feel that your situation doesn’t allow you to fully pursue your dreams, but often there are some tiny steps that you can make – and many tiny steps are as good as one big step. My tiny steps were training in anatomy and physiology, finding ways to use my love of the written word combined with marketing skills to support those in need of better healthcare. Remember when it feels hard that this is your dream and inspiration.

Find what not only makes your heartbeat but what knits your heart and mind together. 

And do it.

Knitted heart by Laura Cameron

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The importance of listening

Listening isn’t just about hearing what the other person is saying, it’s about understanding and interpreting their words accurately, so you can if needed, represent them in a written or spoken piece.

Listening skills are a vital part of good communication. If you have good communication skills, you can start to improve relationships in the workplace as well as in society. Also, you will be able to make decisions more effectively and reach a quicker agreement with others. The person who is speaking will feel appreciated and understood. 

My top seven reasons why listening skills are essential:

  • Reduces misunderstandings – poor communication comes from poor listening. 
  • Builds empathy – being aware of facial expressions, or body positions, can give you a deeper understanding. Do they trust you; do they feel heard – are they in a hurry for example. How can you show your empathy?
  • Poor listening can limit judgement – give your full attention and you will avoid those sticky situations where you might for example misinterpret.
  • It increases your productivity – hearing right, understanding correctly and you can deliver the right words first time around.
  • It makes you a better leader or mentor. You become trusted. 
  • Good feedback – you can only do this well if you are listening, the speaker will feel that you are understanding and actively listening, by giving those verbal and non-verbal cues. Write down what they are saying, don’t be afraid to clarify.
  • It helps build relationships – both business and personal. We all remember that person who listened, understood and did a great job. 

Lastly, I’d like to tell you my story about listening, it was about eight or so years ago, when I was having an ultrasound to locate a tumour in my breast, I had stage 3 cancer. It was in the first few weeks following diagnosis and it was as you can imagine, a stressful and emotionally charged time. The radiologist that day was one of the finest listeners I’ve ever met, he was Persian, and I’ll come to this more in a second. He not only heard what I was saying, but he also saw me, and in a few moments, having asked about and understood my passion for geography and world cultures, he was able to communicate to and interpret my fears. He did this by telling me something that cleverly weaved my articulated pain, emotions and also my interests, but skilfully added something of himself, to reach what he had seen in my face; he told me the following – that the word algebra is from the Arabic word, al-jabr, meaning ‘the reunion of broken parts’. In that moment, I knew he had entirely listened.

So, when you listen to someone’s story, look at them and hear more than just their words, hear and feel what is behind their needs and passions. Only then can you bring them to life. 

Contact me at: writeupmystreet@btinternet.com

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Where do we start?

“The beginning is the most important part of the work.” – Plato

I’ve recently had a new start, of sorts that is. My mother’s side of the family are by and large Maltese, with a bit of Italian, Portuguese and we think North African thrown in somewhere back in the ancestral brew.

My mother died several years ago now, and although she was born in Gibraltar she had a strong connection to her parental line and family in a little village called Zejtun. Her father had smuggled himself on board a ship as a young man to Gibraltar, in search of a better or new life. He was sort of adopted by a Maltese family, they took him under their wing as it were, as a fellow Maltese. He fell in love with one of their daughters, my grandmother and the lady who gave me part of my name.

My mothers’ side of the family.
My grandmother, is back row on the right in front of the tree

Family is also important to me, I have three brothers and a long list of nieces, nephews and a godson. But making that link back to Malta is a thread I began a couple of years ago. I’ve spent hours on-line and scouring microfiched documents of time-faded, priests writing in scribbled ledgers, dating back over 100 years. I needed to find and secure three generations of family certificates to begin my part of this story. Over the course of several months I managed to get all the information and documents I needed. There were some sad stories in there; my great, great grandfather Salvatore, died at Gallipoli, before his daughter my great grandmother was born. The ravages of war never getting any easier. But by way of balance, a funnier tale was that my grandfather was a coal heaver, he carried hefty sacks of coal daily onto the steam ships in Gibraltar dockyard. Years later he was permanently bow-legged from the weight and duration of his job. But back to the here and now, when his marriage certificate came back, a hasty admin clerk had clearly misread his employment and he was down as a goal keeper. Which given the state of his legs, never mind the lack of a football ground in Gibraltar in the early 1900’s made this ironically, very funny. He was a particularly colourful character throughout his life and he would have laughed his head off at this typo.

Coal Heavers in the Gibraltar Dockyard
(Gibraltar History Archives)

But onwards to why I am telling you this story, I wanted to make that connection to my roots, our past weaves it’s way through into who we are today. From the stellar Maltese family eyebrows to an arm full of aunts who hugged you and pinched your cheeks and an uncle who had the most amazing handlebar moustache and would drive me around southern Spain in his taxi, singing while we played his Maria Callas cassettes over and over.

Last year I finally gained my Maltese Citizenship, the next step towards my passport was to go and register my birth in Malta. I made a quick trip over last week, to do just that. Sat in the waiting room with my ticker-tape number in the queue and in scenes not un-reminiscent of the Netherworld waiting room in Beetle Juice, I sat and waited with a folder with my apostille certificates.

Beetlejuice Netherworld Waiting Room

I’ve only ever met one other person with the same name as me, and technically he was a Mario Angel, but the lady who saw me at the registration desk was also a Marie Angela. Then she told me, my birth date was the same as her brothers, and we began chatting like old friends. That’s the Maltese for you, we all make each other feel like family.

Haberdashery in Valetta,
my aunts used to spend hours making lace.

So my point is, there is always a day and a time to start over again, in some way or another. Not just to know who you are and where you are from, which is one thing, but to have that certainty that as Plato once said, ‘the beginning is the most important part of the work‘, and I’ve just had a new one.

As they say in Malta, ‘għandi pjaċir’

(nice to meet you)

Contact me at: writeupmystreet@btinternet.com

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