It lives!!!!

Yes, gentle reader, I am alive. I have not quit writing. Although after the blood, mud and thumping sado-masochism that was the end of Marston Moor (what, pray, is thatt last? is it a cavallrie thing? – H)

– no, Hollie, it’s not gonna be invented for a good two hundred years after your time and you SO don’t want to know. Trust me, I’m the author.

Anyway. That.

So Babylon will be released in May and I’m having April OFF.

If you’d like me to post updates on the making of a pair of watered-silk 1660s stays, Anglo-Saxon cooking, the bluebells at Trerice and which end of a mouse Whiskers has just kindly provided, please comment!

Strong Women

Inner Grace

I did not march today with the women in London protesting against President Trump with his locker room talk and pussy grabbing. Instead I was working a twelve and a half hour shift as an Emergency Medicine Specialty Doctor in the only Emergency Department in the county.


Every time I see a patient, I introduce myself and tell them quite clearly that I am their doctor. Despite this, on pretty much every single shift I work I will on multiple occasions then be called ‘nurse.’ I will have patients complain that they have not yet seen a doctor despite me having seen them, examined them, started treatment and told them their ongoing management plan. I will be told that they have already seen the doctor, referring to the male nurse who triaged them. I have been explicitly told before that men are doctors and women are nurses, had patients exclaim…

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