Jo StleonThe Memory BookMy mother swanned into the gleaming kitchen, skirts flowing, saying, “Oh Martha darling, I thought I’d whip up a batch of spaghetti scones…Aug 24, 2021Aug 24, 2021
Jo StleonDEATH ON THE BUSThe bus was quiet. The musicians read, slept, listened to music, a few talked quietly. This was a boring trip and they did it every couple…Aug 24, 2021Aug 24, 2021
Jo StleonThe Death of a LifeI spotted Mum at the far end of the big communal room. She was stroking a white fluffy cat that sat on her knee; her lips were moving…Aug 24, 2021Aug 24, 2021
Jo StleonBODY LANGUAGE: a memoir of diet-culture trauma106 kilos: 106! My world turned black. The shame! Consumed with self-hatred I scour my wardrobe looking for something I can squeeze into. I…Aug 23, 2021Aug 23, 2021