Ellen’s Substack
Word person - consistently inconsistent but currently writing 100-word blurts
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 5
- Latest publication
- Sep 11, 2026
- Audience
- Checking…
- Earliest in this view
- Jul 3, 2026
Latest issues
9/11 (opens the original)
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Every year takes me back to a newsroom thousands of miles from the towers. Journalists floating to work buoyed by a conviction of relevance, deflate as, for once, they are fellow spectators on the only story to tell.A ‘how can it be?’ day. A ‘where were you then?’ day.A job, nonetheless, to be done: Blank pages uncompromising. Pictures to be picked, words herded.I will always carry the weight of realisation that what I was seeing were people. People tumbling from those windows, people who went t
Relief (opens the original)
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Clouds hang weighty like udders and grey-soft as bovine bellies.Stagnant air thick with dirt and the echoes of disappointment. Yet where it bothers to stir out of torpor, it’s is tender, kind even.On clammy skin like the gasp of a lover, a soothing stroke: A tiny comfort when change is as inevitable as gravity.Anxiety circles and crows scream, the last revellers, beer-lipped and resentful, fill our slumbering streets.The party’s over.Spring lambs amble and bicker, restless as a broken down commu
Jump (opens the original)
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I’ve been on the edge of this pier before, toes bluish and curled around plank-ends. Contemplating the solid block of water that surges beneath me like a breath that can’t be held. Jump, now. Go on. And I did, oh how I jumped. And again I clambered out though the weeds clung to my ankles. Shivering and depleted: When I hauled my clothes back on, they felt strange all day. Everyone could see how wrong it felt. But all paths took me back along the splintered wood. The same sunrise geese formed up
Self care (opens the original)
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Because, let’s face it, who else is going to? But how? Is it a bag of crisps, or a sofa-slump telly binge? Is it a gleaming new pair of boots? Might be. A little (or a family-sized pack) of what you fancy does you good, they say. But what do they really know about you? If they did, they’d say ‘do the thing you least want to do right now’, that’s what’ll make you feel the best. Cook with real ingredients (some of which are green), move your body, and see real people in the big bad out-there. Expr
School's out (opens the original)
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Shiny trousered, too short shirt. Inky tattoo on the forearm. The last uniform hit the floor (short of the laundry basket: the natural flight path). Remembering the first one I bent to harvest (a tiny red sweatshirt 2003 or maybe 4) and the thousands of bendings, washings, foldings, puttings away, findings when lost – apparently – forever, buyings, thriftings, and punctuations of my life. Timing of the purchases around growth spurts. As the last echo of ‘did you put your uniform in the laundry?’
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