About me

I have been writing poetry and stories since I was a child, and a love of reading was instilled in me from an early age. I am passionate about writing, and hope you enjoy the books I have written. Whilst most of you sleep soundly in your beds, like many Parkinson’s patients, insomnia dictates, so during those hours that sleep eludes me, the house is tranquil and quiet, an atmosphere perfect to immerse myself in writing. My life has been a series of strange events, which have without doubt contributed to my creativity. To publish anything is to bear one’s soul to the world. It is to stand naked and let everyone see who you really are. I have poured my heart and soul out on paper and I hope to share this journey, immersing you in a story, capturing your attention and firing the imagination. Through my writing and public speaking I hope to bring greater awareness to the general public about living with chronic disease.

Friday, August 21, 2015


A girl friend thoughtfully took me to our local pool one morning. It was a fantastic  feeling being in the water and I felt almost “normal” in the pool (whatever “normal” is!). I hadn’t been swimming for over 3 years and I had wondered if I’d sink to the bottom like a weighted corpse. But I needn’t have worried, for the repetitive natural action of swimming felt so good, it was as if I’d been to the pool just last week. I was able to swim much more than I had envisaged, but what amazed me more than anything, was whilst buoyant in the water, I could barely feel the Parkinson’s at all. Of course I paid for my enthusiasm dearly later on in the day, and had the most dreadful night.

The longer I live with Parkinson’s, the more I suspect how little we all understand about this unpredictable disease. If anyone had seen me in the water that day, they would never have thought I suffered from Parkinson’s. However, the moment I stepped out of the pool, I was reduced  back to shuffling and Parkinson’s was once again in full swing. How can I expect other people to understand what I go through, when I hardly understand it myself?

Perhaps there is a solution: find an activity of a repetitive nature that allows you to participate and joyously push Parkinson’s out of the way. I would stay in the pool all day and night if this kept Parkinson’s out of my life. Maybe a job at the dolphinarium would be the answer, where I could be waterlogged to my heart’s content. I fear I may end up looking like a wrinkled prune and smelling of fish, but this would be a small price to pay!

Depressed or frustrated? - it's a fine line and a topic for my article this week in The Huffington Post.

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