By Alysha Radia

Caroline’s incredible writing workshops

Last week I partook in one of Caroline’s incredible writing workshops. It felt so good to dedicate 3 hours or so to just sitting and writing and letting words flow from my brain to a page without much purpose or hindrance. It has encouraged me to write in this way as often as I can – it’s mindfulness and copy practice all wrapped into one and those are both things that I desperately need right now. 

Here is one of the poems that came out of that class. I hope you enjoy it. 

I remember long tube rides on the Piccadilly blue, and sticky straws and Starbucks cups,

I remember itchy seats against furry thighs. 

I remember mackerel scales coating chipped nail polish,

I remember salt-whipped air on eyelashes. 

I remember the stench of the dock, 

I remember Boney M and dance routines,

I remember silk waistcoats and glockenspiels that clinked almost, but not quite, in unison, 

I remember understanding musical harmony before anyone else in the class and feeling smug, 

I remember crying over and then into a bowl of Rice Krispies. Snap, crackle, plop.

I remember sitting on peas in the school hall floor during assembly and flicking them off my shoe with a scrunched up nose. 

I remember the news that day,

I remember cockroach in sweet and sour sauce that dripped,

I remember discovering noodles, 

I remember saying that I was a vegetarian but still picking chicken out of my dad’s fried rice,

I remember savouring the umami scent of the Old Library, 

I remember the smell of our old mint green Mercedes and the crumbs my little brother used to get caked into the seats, 

I remember hating it. 

I remember hands like sandpaper wrapped around an icicle, 

I remember a pinkie toe like a Merlot grape,

I remember throbbing veins and orange juice,

I remember slashed chins, blood and peanut butter cookies, 

I remember sweet mangos on salty sweet rice against the backdrop of rickshaw horns.