Katherine Gregor

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Katherine Gregor (a.k.a. Scribe Doll) is a literary translator and scribbler who has also been an EFL teacher, theatrical agent, press agent, theatre director, complementary medicine practitioner, and one or two other things. Perhaps that's why the literary characters she relates to most are Arlecchino, Truffaldino, Gianni Schicchi and Scapin, and feels empathy with crows, squirrels and cats. She lives in Norwich, Norfolk.

Homesick

Wind-swept, East of England skies.  Shapeshifting clouds.  Swirls of white puff that stretch into mountains, curl into castles, swell into dragons, rise into chariots, then metamorphose into angels.  Skies mottled with lead-grey, steel-grey, velvet grey with  undertones of purple, shades of pink, hints of blue and glints of gold.  Ever-changing skies.  Skies so big, they come all the way down to your feet.

 

Elms that rise proud against the sky, copper beeches that glow in the afternoon sun, weeping willows swaying by the river, oaks – hundred of years old – that stand strong against the hurricanes.  Trees that have witnessed generations parade before them.  Trees with stories full of magic to tell, if you would listen.

 

Winds that howl in the night, winds that rattle wooden window frames, gales that push against you as you struggle to walk up the street.  Winds that tear off scaffoldings.  Passionate, exhilarating winds that stir your soul.

 

The river that rushes beneath your favourite bridge.  The bridge that overhears your secrets you whisper to the river.  The river, that washes away your worries and to which you confide your dreams.

 

Autumns of scarlet, ocher and gold.  Springs bursting white pink and white blossoms. 

 

Contrasts.  Passion.  Change.  Light.  Colour.

 

Scribe Doll

 

 

Copyright

© Katherine Gregor

Recent Comments
Orna Raz
It is so interesting to read that home is not a peaceful place, butyit is stormy and has many layers of meanings like the " Tree... Read More
Sunday, 13 July 2014 18:07
Katherine Gregor
I find non-descript blandness stifling, draining. Home for me has to be a place of contrasts. Thank you for reading and comment... Read More
Sunday, 13 July 2014 18:33
Ken Hartke
Thoreau wrote "...in Wildness is the preservation of the world.” I learned early that I had to live within sight of wild places ... Read More
Monday, 14 July 2014 02:47
1566 Hits
6 Comments

A Green Room Full of Hopes

I’d write Green on the whiteboard with a green marker, and wait for the students I’d divided up into groups to brainstorm any English idioms they knew that contained that word.

 

He’s a bit green.

To get the green light.

Green, as in ecology.

Green with envy.

“Beware, my Lord, of jealousy.  ‘Tis the green-eyed monster...”

 

Sometimes, I’d simply ask, “If I say ‘green’, what do you think?”

 

Grass.

Emeralds.

Trees.

Hope.

 

The Green Room in a theatre.  London Fringe Theatre.  Frayed sofas smelling of stale cigarettes and lager.  A Tannoy announcing the Half, Fifteen Minutes and Beginners.  Actors sitting and smoking, doing vocal exercises, complaining about their agents, criticising the director (the one they idolised at the audition but now the critic gave a bad review, well, they really should be at the RSC on on television, instead of Fringe).  Hope for a successful career.

 

The impeccably ironed lawn of a Cambridge college.  Only Fellows are allowed to walk on it.  I walk across the one at King’s, while talking to the Dean.  We’re talking about Dante, and he says he’s going to give me a ticket for the Advent Carol Service.  Hope for academic achievement.

 

The soft, luxuriant green of Grantchester Meadows.  With jet-black crows skipping at the foot of elm trees, swaying in the East Anglian winds.  Hope for peace.

 

My green silk dress I wore on an unforgettable date.  He took me to a Maria Friedman concert at Cadogan Hall.  Sondheim and Bernstein.  Afterwards, we strolled through the winding Chelsea streets.  Hope for true love.

 

A bushy green fir tree, standing by the sash window, decorated in gold and silver baubles, lit up with a criss-crossing string of tiny white lights.  Hope for home and hearth.

 

The glossy green leaves of small lemon plants, grown from pips in pots on my desk during a harsh winter.  Hope for survival.

 

An e-mail from a friend I have yet to meet, telling me about a newly-set up haven for writers recently orphaned of their familiar internet forum.  A red room that provided much warmth and nurture.  She invites me to join a new room, a green room.  I picture a velvet green sofa with soft cushions, a crackling fireplace, the smell of coffee mixed with roasted figs, chocolate fudge cake on the table, a large bay window overlooking a garden with a weeping willow trailing its  mane in a limpid stream.  A group of writers, from different countries, different backgrounds, united in effervescent conversation, discussing every topic under the sun and moon.  Laughter.  Support.  Learning.

 

Hope for friendship.  Hope for writing and reading splendid words.

 

 

Scribe  Doll

Copyright

© Katherine Gregor 2014

Recent Comments
Orna Raz
I love it and have to include this beautiful poem (and song): Flowers are Red by Harry Chapin The little boy went first day of... Read More
Friday, 11 July 2014 21:13
Katherine Gregor
What a heartbreaking comment. It reminds me of my primary school in France, where we were made to form letters exactly in the sam... Read More
Saturday, 12 July 2014 07:36
Stephen Evans
Sometimes when I am editing a manuscript, I'll do a search on a various words, just to see how many times and in what ways they ar... Read More
Saturday, 12 July 2014 00:47
2582 Hits
10 Comments

Writing For Life

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Latest Comments

Rosy Cole Paris, 14 Juillet
08 August 2019
Yes, I feel confident that 'The Government' does not essentially represent the British people. When ...
Stephen Evans Memory
29 July 2019
Very kind!
Rosy Cole Memory
28 July 2019
In view of the above theme, I feel bound to add this:Back in the theater again after too many years....
Rosy Cole Memory
28 July 2019
Some mischievous ambiguity here :-)
Katherine Gregor Paris, 14 Juillet
25 July 2019
I don't blame the Queen or the monarch. They have little say in Government decisions. I hold Her M...