Welcome to the webpages of Julie Didcock-Williams who hails from East Sussex where she lives with her two dogs, a bearded, pipe-smoking violinist and three children. She worked for many years in the City of London as a commercial property lawyer and now teaches English language and literature in secondary school.
She was educated in a Roman Catholic convent and now practises Zen Buddhism in the Plum Village Tradition established by Thích Nhất Hạnh.
Julie enjoys walking, gardening, drinking coffee and watching the changes in the landscape and the sheep, pigs and cows in the farm next door. Most of all she enjoys sitting in silence.
She is also a highly talented writer... Her work has been published in various magazines including Wildfire-Words, Blithe Spirit, Cider Press Review, The Dawn Treader, Eat the Storms, The Cannon’s Mouth and Rock Paper Poems. Her novel, The Cove, was published in 2020.
Julie has a degree in law from the University of Southampton and a Masters in Creative & Life Writing from Goldsmiths College, University of London... her debut collection with erbacce-press is entitled The Other Shore and if you want to know what it focuses upon read the rear-cover blurbs. Above the cover image is a PayPal link (Buy Now) which is for UK sales; please remember £2.00 will be added for p/p... if you wish to purchse from outside the UK email Julie first; just clcik on the cover to contact her. Also if you'd like a signed copy email Julie and she'll be happy to oblige.
The other shore
My path ends at a wooden gate.
Beyond lies wilderness,
where wind conjures
unfamiliar songs
from meadow foxtails, docks.
There is no clear path through.
A rucksack leans
against the fence and nettles –
it contains all I need.
Echoes swirl
in the hollows
of my footprints:
the sounds of cars
and horses’ hooves,
a radio’s mutter,
clatter of cutlery on china,
a family singing to Mamma Mia!, Bond.
If I walk through the gate these sounds
will fade and not return.
Next to the bag, a pair of walking boots
sturdy enough to make it to the ocean,
where my boat with its tangerine sail,
and maybe other boats
in a line at the harbour,
bobs in the dips and peaks,
waiting, waiting.
