Escape Artist
I am the fourth born daughter of an Indo-Mauritian Father and a Doncastrian Mother. My childhood in a noisy, unruly household of hormonal harridans, made me an imaginary escape artist by the age of 8. My Mother introduced me to Beatrix Potter and the Wind in the Willows, and I saw and see aproned hedgehogs hanging petticoats in the garden and grumpy pipe-puffing badgers beneath snow-laden yew branches in the woods. Exposure to a plethora of unsettling viewing at a young age, (Jaws, Alien, The Omen, Threads, The Day of the Triffids, Tales of the Unexpected…), while under the care of my teenage sisters, fed my tendency towards the macabre.
Right now in this very moment, I am hungry, there is a dull pain twinging in the back of my left shoulder, the sun has come out but there’s a huge grey hanging overhead and the competing thoughts in my mind are: should I reheat the rasam for lunch even though I don’t like the cheap paprika I used in it, why does it feel like Dad was just a dream, I’m rubbish at book promotion so how am I going to find readers, I need to have a screen break, there aren’t enough teabags for an afternoon cuppa, I’m very confused and slightly off-putting.
What did I miss. I am a writer, even when I’m not writing. But I’m no longer just an escape artist. I don’t just want to live in a frosty woodland with talking animals, although I will always make time for a cup of tea with Mole. I am a mind and I want to exist in community with other minds. So, that is why I am here. Get in touch, comment, tweet or whatever works for you. Go well fellow minds! And if you would like to escape just a little, Mrs Tiggy-Winkle is waiting…
Lindie Heeralall 
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