Writer, Filmmaker, Mother, Grandmother
The day of the viva finally came and I am delighted to say that on Wednesday the 12th of November I passed! The viva, held by the examination committee at the University of Stirling, was robust and intense. I have some amendments to make, but to say I'm pleased to have passed is an understatement.… Continue reading Viva voce!
Yesterday, the 26th of May, marked six months since my beautiful daddy died on the 26th of November 2024. It also marks six painfully long months since I caressed my fingers around his, his voice no longer even a whisper, his light fading. In the early hours of that morning, I kissed him goodbye, praying… Continue reading Yesterday, today and tomorrow.
It has been forty two days since my dad died. In terms of a number it has no real meaning, not in the sense of it being aligned to a specific date, like a month or two months, or even a birthday or an anniversary. It is another day of losing him again. A day,… Continue reading Notes of a life
When we were making the funeral arrangements for my dad's requiem mass and committal, Friday the 13th emerged as the first available date, but I didn't baulk at it. A date with such negative connotations was fitting. How could anything be positive on the day I would publicly say goodbye to my father? As it… Continue reading By God, the old man could handle a spade. Just like his old man.
This is PhD chat, but because my PhD thesis is autoethnographical, it is also entwined in the personal by both circumstance and design. In my last update about my writing journey, I spoke about how I wanted to be able to finish my last draft chapter before Christmas, in the hope of spending the first… Continue reading PhD draft. Breathe in, not out.
I was nine years old when my granny died, but I vividly recall her funeral on Rathlin Island. My dad and, his brothers, carried Granny's coffin from the chapel down church brae to the cemetery at the church at the bottom of the hill, facing the sea. Back then, that journey was referred to as… Continue reading An island tradition; the beauty of saying farewell
It's been six months since we lost our mum. To the day. The 19th is a date that will sting for evermore. But although I say six months, it was longer in many ways. Jackie Kay, in Darling, writes: When smaller than her self,she seemed already to be leaving This line doesn't reference dementia, but… Continue reading “When smaller than her self”
Carol Ann Duffy wrote a beautiful poem, The Way My Mother Speaks, and the opening is stunning - I say her phrases to myselfin my heador under the shallows of my breath,restful shapes moving. Recently, I've been thinking about the way my mother speaks. Before her words come to me, I experience an odd feeling,… Continue reading The Way My Mother Lived
I love July. As a child growing up in Glasgow, July signified the start of the school holidays and the month we travelled to Ireland to see our grandparents on Rathlin Island. It has rooted me in the island and the tastes, sights and smells of this special month. The summer month. Sadly, my grandparents… Continue reading July is summer.
Today marks 15 years since former Celtic player and manager, Tommy Burns, died. He was just 51 years old. He was an incredible man who loved his family, his Catholic faith and Celtic intensely. He also had a deep affection for Kilmarnock too! I knew Tommy as a work colleague and he was incredibly fun,… Continue reading The ‘Tommy Burns’ Times
Margot McCuaig 