Ruth's Real Life

Tall Standing   I am done with the safety razor life:   I have slouched in the shadows of smiles, I have been loved into comfort-fit shapes, I have run in a tight box of approval Banging against the hollow sides of my truth, Bruising heart and soul to bloodless thinness.   I choose to walk out of the photograph of self, I expose the black blank back of my eyes And dare you to stand tall enough to meet my gaze, Stretch your arms ‘till they are embrace long, Prise the words from between the stones of your teeth.   Now, call me by my name.   Ruth Everson   A comment yesterday by Mandy Collins (@collinsmandy), expressing her longing to be heard, reminded me of this poem, ‘Tall Standing’. It was written at a time when I was angry with everything and everyone. I was battling with issues of identity and felt lost in a world that seemed to demand conformity.   It’s not always easy to sing a sol...

  Two Saturdays ago, compliments of the lovely Carel Nolte, I found myself at the Zwartkops Raceway. Ahead of me was a ‘Ferrari experience’, this meant driving a Ferrari F360. I love driving and I love adventures but I have to admit to some trepidation as I perched on a stool listening to the roar of the cars hurtling around the track. The driver’s briefing was brief! Back out at the side of the track, I was pleased that I had the first of my fears behind me – the fitting of the driver’s suit. I’m not small and I was convinced that there would not be a suit to fit me. I didn’t have to wear a suit – easy! Helmeted and ready, with a number of young men watching, I manoeuvred myself into the car and was strapped in. I was so concerned about my next fear – stalling in front of everyone – that I didn’t notice the technical hitch. My feet didn’t reach the pedals. As the seat couldn’t be adjusted, I had to move to the second car. I casually levered myself out and sauntered no...