This book started well. Love the year it’s in and the setting. It felt like a good beginning to a fantasy novel. It kind of felt like The Borrowers or something. Then it went on and didn’t really go anywhere, it faded and i was disappointed because i really liked the opening chapters and the characters and the vibe i was getting, but it didn’t go anywhere.
Liverpool, 1976: Martha is lost.
She’s been lost since she was a baby, abandoned in a suitcase on the train from Paris. Ever since, she’s waited in lost property for someone to claim her. It’s been sixteen years, but she’s still hopeful.
Meanwhile, there are lost property mysteries to solve: a suitcase that may have belonged to the Beatles, a stuffed monkey that keeps appearing. But there is one mystery Martha has never been able to solve – and now time is running out. If Martha can’t discover who she really is, she will lose everything…
amazon (affiliate link) if you’re interested in checking out this book
I turned 24 on the 6th of August. Yes, I am a Leo. 🦁 I don’t really do birthdays. I feel like I should celebrate my birthday, but I never know how. Since way back when people have asked what do you want to do for your birthday? and I’ve been nonplussed, like I don’t know what I want to do … ? It’s similar to when people ask where do you really want to go in the world? and that gets the same reaction. I don’t know … It’s not that I don’t have any imagination. I think it’s a result of the depression I have suffered for years. I couldn’t envision a future for myself. I thought I would be dead by the time I was 20 and yet here I still am. I think it’s also a result of my low self-esteem. Enough people have not taken what I have said, or said I felt, seriously that I just don’t believe in the opinions I have. My catchphrase as a teenager was I don’t know. I could not make decisions for myself and I still struggle with that. I struggle with saying what I really feel because I don’t want to upset people. Which brings me to what do I feel? Since I started counselling and having to talk about feelings (urgh) I have started to think about what I feel. I don’t know how I feel. It unnerves me. I don’t know how I feel, is that normal? Have I been depressed for so long that I have squashed down all my feelings when I drank and self-harmed in the past that I now have … no feelings? The only feelings I can identify are empty, hungry, and knackered. I also want to add (a little randomly) how expensive is living!? This month the rent was due, my security and Microsoft subscription needed renewing, COUNCIL TAX and of course, rooting around in the sales for warm weather clothes that will be put away until next year because jumper season will be upon us far too soon. I hate the winter months. I hate them because of SAD. Seasonal affective disorder. I wrote a poem about it which you can read on my Patreon. It’s scary. From the end of September a low mood will descend upon me and I will have no motivation whatsoever until March. As if I’ve been dropped into a vat of doom. That means I spend a good chunk of my life miserable. I figure I should do something about it this year (well, duh Kate!) I know what’s going on now and I need to find a solution.
I have always been very good at the writing part of … writing, and not so much at the discipline of editing, and whatnot. Ever since the bug of poetry bit me at the age of sixteen I have written continually on whatever bits of paper I might find laying around, with whichever pen might happen to work. I joined a writing site soon after that and enjoyed interacting and sharing my writing with a community of other likeminded people. I started sending some of those poems to literary publications when I was eighteen. And now I am twenty-three, I have had my poems published online and in print. I have met and read a lot of writers online in that time too. Sometimes it seems the only thing that keeps me sane. I love discovering new writers.
Writing has always been my way of communication from when I was a little girl. Writing this I cringe a little inside because I am more comfortable writing from a poem point of view, than from my own. That’s because I’m not a confident person and don’t like to share my thoughts outwardly because of fear of people telling me I’m wrong or being stupid. I keep reminding myself I’m an adult now and not a child, but coping mechanisms die hard!
I guess writing, and poetry stopped me from becoming lonely too. I was a very quiet, sensitive, and shy child, and I often felt shunned by family, teachers, friends. Writing reminded me I was alive at times, that I had some kind of power. Reading has that same impact too. Words can become a healing balm.
Over the last few months I have felt shut out from poetry, and a little adrift from the community. It seems like it has become a popularity contest? I have gotten into the nasty habit of comparison with fellow poets. Why are they being published and I’m not? What’s wrong with my voice? Do you read my poetry and recognize how uneducated I am, how limited my vocabulary can be because of where I’m from?
Loneliness comes in various guises. Sometimes you want to connect, to talk with somebody. Desperately wanting to know someone is willing to talk with you. Sometimes it’s that ache of needing to be hugged, because it’s been so long. Other times it’s just wanting a laugh and forgetting you live half of your life inside your own head. It’s knowing you don’t have a friend to tag in giveaways on Twitter, won’t need an extra seat, and second guessing every damn decision you make.
I remember feeling the loss when I was rejected by friends as a seven-year-old. Friends that thought I was a little bit strange, intense, overzealous. For me it is ingrained now, loneliness. I find my own solutions, sometimes through poetry, and other times good old Google helps me out.
Does technology make us more or less likely to be lonely? I don’t know.
It is different for everybody. I didn’t grow up with technology the likes we have now. I remember tapes and VHS and floppy discs and the house phone. When I begin to use the internet in my late teens I found community and people that I could engage with. It’s incredibly easy to talk to people online when you aren’t so used to it offline. Which is where I have to say it’s about balance. If life offline is OK then it’s much easier to regulate what you are doing online. You won’t be vulnerable to coming into contact with that disease called scroll and compare.
My partner and I do not have a great deal of space in our flat, so when I decided to spend the long weekend clearing up I realised how many clothes I have. Now I do admit there are certain things I collect, that I keep because I am particularly fond of them and cannot let go of them. Like mementos from holidays, books and, as it turns out, clothes. I have clothes still that I wore when I was sixteen. I am now twenty-three. I can no longer eat the amounts of crap I did at sixteen because it becomes noticeable now (eek) I have clothes I brought because I liked them, and there was not my size available, but I thought I’ll buy a smaller size, and try to lose weight. I have had a massive head’s gone in the last few months in that why on earth am I buying clothes that do not fit, will never fit, and do not make me feel good? Why? I don’t know. I’m simply collecting clothes, for NO REASON. No wonder I have no space! Madness is truly doing the same thing over and getting the same result.
Do you know the best sites I can sell clothes on? Or have any other ideas of where I can get rid of some of my clothes?
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