Love in a Time of Cinema

In my family we like to quote movies to each other, probably more often than is socially acceptable. I’ve been toying with this one for a couple of days now, all of the lines are from romantic movies/comedies/teen-dramas which I have watched over the years and therefore although I’ve reordered the lines obviously the words are not mine…just in case any cries the scary ‘p’ word…

Feel free to try and guess the movies, happy to tell you when you’re right!

Love in a Time of Cinema

Love means never having to say you’re sorry,

But apparently there’s a difference between like and love.

Yet, to me, you are perfect

So you can’t ask why about love.


I like you very much, just as you are.

And I have crossed oceans of time to find you.

Because we accept the love we think we deserve.

Though I think our love can do anything we want it to.


You ask me why I want to change you,

But it’s you that’s changing me.

For I’m not a smart woman, but I know what love is.

No worse things have happened at sea.


And I would rather have one lifetime with you,

Than face all the ages of this world alone

I wish I’d done everything on earth with you.

Before we played this game of thrones.


And if the greatest thing you’ll ever learn,

Is just to love and be loved in return.

And you will never age for me, nor fade, nor die.

Because people have a power over us even after they’re gone.


My heart is, and always will be, yours

So hear this now; I will always come for you.

‘Cause if you haven’t tried, you haven’t lived.

And I wanted it to be you.


I’m also just a girl, standing in front of a boy,

Asking him to love her.

So surely you must know, it was all for you.

And this life we have together.


So, if our love is like the wind.

If I can’t see it, but I can feel it.

And you’re a bird and I’m a bird,

Then I love you and you know.








If I am quiet enough this empty place will,

Yield to me the secrets of its ancient visitors.

Ghosts from the graveyard, wandering close,

To howl at the water in voiceless anger.


Or noises carried by the wind from afar,

A bank of bathing sea-lions calling back.

Almost too far away to make out,

Their song brought closer by an unfelt breeze.


Life in a place that seems dead,

For ruins, for graves,

For visitors who daren’t stay too long,

For fear of staying too long.


A eeriness that I have not felt since,

A summer’s day on Glencoe.

The soft sounds are not so gentle in these places.

Perhaps slaughter leaves an echo?


If You’re Not Writing

If You’re Not Writing

Recently I was invited to a ‘Women in Leadership’ luncheon in London. Well, I say invited, sent is probably more accurate as I was despatched in lieu of the adult who was actually invited, but I digress. Initially I was thrilled to have been considered until it occurred to me that I didn’t own a suit. You may wonder how I had managed to get away without owning a suit this far into my professional career but somehow I achieved it and even better than this I managed to purchase a rather smart suit-ish outfit for the event. All worthwhile as I was seated next to a woman wearing jeans. I didn’t even embarrass myself too much, I found another Philippa who finally told me why told me those guys in the Berlin laughed when I asked them to put ‘Pip’ on my cup, I’ll wait why you Google it….funny right? I also managed to only come up with a semi-embarrassing answer to ‘Who was your female role-model growing up?’ by offering up my dad as a suitable response. Seriously though the only other person I could think of was Sylvia Plath and for some reason I thought that would be less appropriate since she’d stuck her head in the oven. Yet even now, all this time later, I am struck by the fact that I still offered up my standard response when asked ‘What do you do outside of work?’; ‘I’m a writer.’. But that’s a lie. I’m a firm believer that you can’t claim to be a writer if you’re not writing and at that point I wasn’t. I hadn’t written anything in months and I didn’t write anything for months afterwards. It’s only recently that I’ve managed to get back into my writing and like a hot bath when you’ve been out in the rain it is restorative. It’s balancing and I feel that now the scales of my life are beginning to equalise.

Therefore I have set myself the challenge to write a poem every day for the next thirty days. Ranging from the life inspired:

It is with cruel irony now,

I must make your life much harder,

As I take away from you,

The thing that always makes you calmer.


For the very subject that I,

Thought that I excelled.

Is the area where I’ve failed you,

Because on it I didn’t dwell.


So as I search the house today,

To steal away your infancy,

A war inside is raging but,

This sense of duty has its impotency.


I’ll steal them from the sofa,

From the cupboard, and your drawer.

Like the final plague of Egypt,

I will take what you adore.


I’ll reflect upon the advice we heard,

Which had seemed so interfering,

But to hear it from a stranger,

I’ll admit its left me reeling.


So for now I’ll be the bad guy,

As I round up every dummy,

And we’ll both cry, but it’s worth it,

To hear you learn to call me mummy.


To the prompt inspired and quite frankly ridiculous:

Fake grass between your toes,

Faux leather on the coat rack,

Synthetic smoke filling your lungs,

Would you like to take it back?

Acrylic coating on your nails,

Plastic fire turning black,

Electric pages of a book,

Would you like to take it back? 

A juice of concentrated slime,

A rubber egg you cannot crack,

Silk roses in the vase,

Would you like to take it back?

Cardboard holding up the walls,

Electric buzzing in the flat,

Paper flooding up the hall,

Would you like to take it back?

Skin tight latex on your skin,

A mob preparing for attack,

Another face for your collection,

Would you like to take it back?

Babies sucking plastic teats,

Television absorbed like smack,

Give the boy another Coke,

Would you like to take it back?

None of this is quite your fault,

But yet you must take the flack,

It’s not getting any better,

Would you like to take it all back?


But they don’t all need to be brilliant do they? The point is to get back into it and if at the end of the challenge I end up with a couple of good poems then it’s just more to add to my collection. So read them or don’t, feel free to offer prompts, and at the end of this maybe I won’t feel so guilty when I call myself a writer.

On What Is Beautiful To Children

On What Is Beautiful To Children

Your perfume is a scent that evokes a thousand memories though I know, with an almost nostalgic sense of loss, that you don’t wear those notes these days. I will pick up the bottle whenever I see it, bright yellow gold in a bottle marked ‘Sunflowers’ or perfect, ivory cylinders with a crown of doves. A private memory betwixt the shelves of a pharmacy.

Lately I’ve taken to wearing a simple, rose scented water that cost nothing but smells so much like our time together that I can’t help but resist it even when someone tells me that it doesn’t quite suit me. Now I smell like the version of you from my childhood and you smell like Chanel No.5, a more refined version of the woman that made me but that you grew out of.

I sometimes go to buy you a bottle but stop myself because I think that it would make you feel ashamed to wear the perfume that was all you could afford back then, to go back when you have achieved much. As an adult I realise that you don’t see her as I do, you don’t know that to me she was beautiful.

She will always be the warmth of home, the companionship in times of only ‘you and I’. When they were gone and we were alone. Sometimes we were sad and sometimes we played with scarves of happy colours to make happy memories. Her hair and clothing escape me through the years, her figure, our disagreements, the things we did and didn’t do are gone or filed away.

Others know you to be beautiful from the way that you look. Yet I know that you are beautiful from the way that we have changed together. Both women now, friends, and equals in a way that few others can claim when talking of their mother. So much between us has changed that I can’t remember when it happened.

But that perfume takes me home.

Is Star Wars Overload Even Possible?

Is Star Wars Overload Even Possible?

**I’m not a heartless bastard so this post contains no spoilers**

I, like many fans throughout the world, have spent the last two weeks completely immersed in the Star Wars universe. Firstly by re-watching all of the films in preparation for the new one and then eagerly watching The Force Awakens on Thursday.

So here are some things I’ve learned:

  1. It is always ok to skip Episode 1 and no one will judge you for it. Seriously.
  2. A marriage can survive the age old argument on which is better; Empire Strikes Back or Return of the Jedi.
  3. The Kylo Ren 3D glasses make me look like Kanye West. Kylo West:Kanye Ren
  4. Toddlers are old enough for lightsaber duels. 
  5. Toddlers will bite the foam lightsabers.
  6. The FX lightsabers have gone up so much in value that I wouldn’t let my four year old niece touch them.
  7. You can now buy a Kylo Ren FX lightsaber. Buy it here.
  8. You cannot get hold of a Mace Windu purple lightsaber for love nor money.
  9. I should have bought them all when they were £40 a pop.
  10. I have awesome friends; one of them even took the day off to avoid the post film discussion with me.
  11. The fan theories are driving me insane. I have no idea who to believe.
  12. BB8 sold out on Amazon within hours of the film hitting cinemas.
  13. I want the BB8 app controlled droid so badly that I’ve turned into Verruca Salt.
  14. I neglected to tell my dad about the price of said droid when he was shopping for it in London and received this text in response:Text
  15. I am apparently the go-to fan girl in my family and all questions seem to be coming in my direction: Convo snip
  16. My circle of friends has and will see it more than once. Some of them in the same day.
  17. There are loads of fun things to watch online. Like this.
  18. The Holiday Special is not one of them…for the love of god do not watch it.






Christmas Shopping on Etsy

Christmas Shopping on Etsy

**Snoopy family members and friends. You will not find details of your Christmas presents here…move along please.**

I declared that I had finished my Christmas shopping about two weeks too early this year. This then prompted a victory call to my sister who then proceeded to tell me about how thoughtful all of her Christmas presents were. Mine were done, but they could in no way be considered ‘thoughtful’. However those of your with siblings will understand that rivalry is ever present and with my family this is never more true than at Christmas. Therefore my sister could not win.

Cue Etsy.

I had used Etsy like a drug addict whilst planning my wedding though I confess I hadn’t used it much since then. However since it seemed that this year my mailbox was only to be filled with bargain, though somewhat soulless, gifts it seemed to be a good place to turn to. Within minutes of being back on the site I had found amazing Christmas jumpers like this one:

Christmas Jumper

Click here to buy

Look how beautiful this scarf is and the packaging was equally as beautiful.


Click here to buy

Or if beautifully crafted silverware is more your thing, Etsy can do that:


Click here to buy.

I’d also forgotten how awesome the store owners are on Etsy. They’re always willing to talk to you and make amendments if needs be. My new favourite store would definitely be IceMaidens, who not only had the nicest packaging out of any of the stores I used but the present I purchased from the store was also here the very next day. I also really loved the fact that each piece description tells you a little bit about how it was made which was really important to the gift recipient.

A truly awesome store and a really lovely lady to boot who was kind enough to tell me a bit more about her store when asked:

My main online presence is my Etsy shop at

but I also have a presence on Facebook Tumblr, Pinterest and Instagram

I opened my shop in earnest about a year ago and it has slowly attracted attention…. and in the last 3 or 4 months it has really taken off! I’m so busy now and very pleased that my products are being bought from wonderful customers all over the world. I’m not much use at promoting my work, so I’d be absolutely delighted to be mentioned on your blog and thank you so much.

Best wishes again
Gladrags (Helen)

So if you’re short of a few thoughtful gifts this year then please do think about the smaller business owners on Etsy. The work is fantastic and I’ve always found the service to be quick, easy, and well packaged.


Cherries In The Snow – An Introduction by Jonathan Duran 

Cherries In The Snow – An Introduction by Jonathan Duran 

As I was asked to write an introduction for this review, I immediately thought about reviews I’ve received in the past. Quite a few I have received for this book and previous works I’ve released, have been based around the idea of propriety. That is to say, when people review my work unfavorably, they tend to decry my authorial choices as crude or sensationalistic.

Yet, I abhor sensationalism because it is inane and beneath artistic sensibilities. One should never release something that they are not absolutely, through-and-through, proud of and one should never feel proud of any work created insincerely, solely to spite, to harm, or to mock the beautiful and fragile human condition that binds us all together.

I’m no cynic. My stories are dark – that’s true – but they are full of life and drama in the most sincere ways I can imagine. I’m not trying to offend, but I accept the fact that I do. In fact, I embrace it.

You see, I adore writers who risk saying things that will get them into trouble. I’m not speaking of writers who pander or write for the pure sense of shock and exploitation. I’m speaking of writers who are not afraid to plumb the depths of their ideas and present them with conviction. Those that stay true to the heart and soul of their story and don’t dare water it down for fear of offending readers or even scandalizing themselves. I think you should scandalize yourself, you must – the shock of electricity you receive, the rush of breaking a story in your head or on the page will change you – and that process should never be impeded by the notion of servicing an ambiguous and overbearingly sensitive politic.

I want the writers I spend my time reading to be brave and not care about anything other than telling the story they need to tell.

Because, for a writer, bravery is actually vulnerability if it is honest, and honesty is what separates artists from parasites. The way you learn to be unashamed and share your pain, your anxieties, your fetishes, and your great loves is the way you learn to communicate honestly through whichever medium you choose. That is how you grow and create things that will transform your own soul, and if you are very, very lucky, someone else’s heart and mind as well.

I miss the days of dangerous literature, written by authors who considered it their duty to comment on society and humanity as a whole, not just to create characters that go through recognizable motions until the story ends. I want my literature to breathe fire and spit acid. To evolve into the monkey that wields a bone as the first weapon. I want an ideological backbone made of diamonds that breaks the skin with every movement of character and plot. I want it all to feel dangerous again – necessary – transformative – free – inevitable…

So, if you need to shock people awake every now and then with a lurid description, do so with abandon! Do not censor yourself. Just stay true to the spirit of the work and do not do so unless the story requires it.

Now – my book is not the answer to all of this, but just for the sake of hyperbolic argument, I decided to take you down this pretentious road framed in the context of a review for said book. This was chance, but it was also inevitable. Put yourself out there and do it without filter, just have a good editor.