Category Archive: Creative Non Fiction

Kirstibot Strikes Again

Secretly, my favourite thing is the ‘What Would I Say’ site ( Every few weeks someone will post a link from this website, which compiles past Facebook statuses, jumbles them together and generates… Continue reading

I Should Have Said I’m Sorry

The best thing about a mum is having the sheets tucked in just right. Mum was a pile of laundry on a Sunday, and it wasn’t the same in the summer. Just like… Continue reading

Coromandel Gold

I lift the light body of my little dog and carry him through the shallows. He’s frozen in fear in my arms. Whangapoua was the first place he came after his escape into… Continue reading

On Activism, And The Man Who Came In My Eye.

Seated on Mumbai’s bloated shoreline, a man called Omar told me he wanted to be a Bollywood star. “But not all wishes become true,” he said sadly, already afflicted by the soap-opera insincerity… Continue reading

To The Top

There are times in our lives when we run out of things to say. Yep, even me. The last week or so, I have struggled. I love my blog and the sense of… Continue reading


My parents were in love in a small town in Nepal. On the edge of a lake, in the cup of the held hands of the Himalayas, they skinny-dipped in waters now infested… Continue reading

The Ways We Fall Out (Of Love)

Memory is a funny thing. It’s a little bit like grief. We process something until it stops being what it was, and starts being what we needed it to be. I remember riding… Continue reading

On Fathers, Feminism and Memory

I was nine. My mother’s knee was a trunk that her hands tucked me into, desperate and maternal. I remember the way she leaned over me, as if her body could protect me… Continue reading

When it Happened to Me.

This piece can now be read here: