The Dark End of The Street (for Alyce Guynn) Your sister, Alyce, reminded me what, in my grief, I had forgotten and later on, I came to...

When Terry was a kid, on a week's holiday with his parents in Weymouth, his beloved gran, Ada, sent him a letter every other day. "I've...

A friend of Terry's, a DJ on the Irish traditional scene, just called me. "I've got some recordings of some radio interviews I did with...

I've had another try at going through Terry's beautiful clothes. Since he owned so very many (he was a bit of a peacock, wasn't he?) I...

I always called him 'doll'. "Hey, doll." I never had to explain why. He knew, of course, that it was a nod and a wink to his love of the...

Many people have used the word intense to describe me. They don’t mean it as a compliment. They're right. People have always backed away...

Often, when we wrote together, I would be at my desk at work, and Terry would be at home. He'd email: 'Wanna write a song?' He'd give me...

Dion’s vocal bullets, those ricochets that killed us both. Your grandmother cooking you tea, while you sang her ‘Josie, hold on for me.’...

When Terry and I first met we spent a lot of time apart. I joked that we should get tattoos, as a sign of our belonging - perhaps half a...

I found some faded photos in the loft of Terry in Palmer Park, Reading, in the 1970s, with his first dog, Bob. He never stopped talking...

You reasses things, don’t you? Here I was thinking we weren’t smart enough. But actually we did OK. When we got together - in the first...

Grief is fearful & vain too, isn't it? You aren't just mourning an adored person, lost. You are also mourning the fact that they were...