I am not accepting a Member of The British Empire “on behalf of the community” nor “on behalf of others like me.” I am definitely not accepting it “because my mum wants to go to the palace”. It feels disingenuous or discourteous, possibly even deceitful, to accept an award then say you’re accepting it on behalf of others when in fact it is given to you. Read more [...]

And finally Jude Kelly the artistic director of Southbank Centre and my residency sponsored by The Paul Hamlyn Foundation has made all of what is here possible and the following. In six hours time I shall be named an MBE for services to literature. Read more [...]

Context is relative and relativity a factor of memory: ever heard the memory trick in how to recall your pin number by unconnected images. I am often advised by the well meaning not to assume that families are great when in fact I don’t. I just value memory is all. But why make it public? Read more [...]

It's a list. There are no links Just a whole list of good people. Read more [...]

“Don’t get me wrong.” He says shaking his head from side to side as the plane gulps down towards the runway “ I’m not a racist.” I hadn’t said he was “ My own children are half caste.” He passes me his card and I feel my stomach turn as the wheels skid onto the runway. Read more [...]

“we have no money” said the American man “leave us alone”. I squeezed out the words “Bag!!”. The American man looked at me “stand back Arlene” he said to his wife and took the stance of a thai kick boxer. His distended handed curled a finger at me “let’s do this” he said. Read more [...]

It’s a molten sun. Life is good and the world is waking. At 8am I walk the length of Bethnal Green Road where the market traders are setting out stalls. Tarpaulin skin slides over skeletal frames and goods are unloaded from vans. Read more [...]

I was struggling to keep myself together. It was like watching the twin towers crumble and tumble under the stress. A moment came when what was who I am fell in slow motion, each floor collapsing on the other, each problem compounding, a concertina of collapsing consciousness until one morning I awoke and all was dust. Read more [...]

As this happened the fireworks (not candles) upon the gigantic 30th anniversary cake threw Fountains of hissing golden sparks to the ceiling. The bells continued ringing causing a mexican wave of goosepimples to ripple through the crowd and through me. Read more [...]

Tonight it's the workers shindig, a Christmas party in the reception area of The Queen Elizabeth Hall it kicks off at 7.30pm with an X factor spoof on a largescreen suspended above the stage in which I am a dysfunctional contestant. Typecast again. Read more [...]