Bruce’s Story: expressing his opinion

It seems obvious now how similar Bruce and I were. Anxiety overruled logic, we both cloaked ourselves in an armour of false bravado and we were both in permanent flight from our demons. Bruce might have four legs, but I was running as fast from cancer as he was from his nemesis. Kirsty’s ‘quiet place’Continue reading “Bruce’s Story: expressing his opinion”

Bruce’s Story: towards the end

James and his new wife married in late February. A week later they drove from London to Dorset, ready for hunting on Saturday. Rosanna was older than James and disguised it well. Tall and willowy with expensively coloured blonde hair and enough charm to make sure she got what she wanted, she liked to haveContinue reading “Bruce’s Story: towards the end”

Bruce’s Story: the beginning

Through the records in his Irish Horse Passport, I traced Bruce’s early years in Ireland. A previous owner sent me this photo of him as a five-year old. With allowances for creative licence, I’ve dabbled with fiction and written his story: Southern Ireland is famous for the craic, the Guinness and the rainfall but evenContinue reading “Bruce’s Story: the beginning”


Being introduced to someone because we both have cancer is something I’ve studiously avoided. I would prefer we be ‘friends’ via another connection, rather than both being skewered by the Sword of Damocles, partnered like kebabs awaiting the barbecue. Some years ago my oncologist prescribed Eribulin chemotherapy which had just been approved for metastatic breastContinue reading “connection”