Handwriting Day – Left Handedness, Dyslexia and Poetry

It’s Handwriting Day and what better way to celebrate than with a good ol’ fashioned digital text blog? Ok, a good ol’ fashioned text blog including a picture sampling my handwriting.

I’ve included a picture of my notebook with the first draft of my poem “Words”. I still love to write with a pen and paper, most of my poems take form that way and I keep a collection of them all in a separate book, written as neatly as possible, for prosperity sake. There’s no denying the free-flowing creative nature of writing when brain connects with paper via pen. I always have a notepad next to me at work to jot down ideas, and sketch out thoughts. It’s so accessible and liberating that, no matter how digital I am, I’ll never want to do away with a pen and paper for notes and inspiration.Photo 23-01-2015 18 23 39

Now whilst I do love writing “the old fashioned way”, it isn’t without its problems. Number 1, I’m left-handed – smudge city. Number 2, I’m dyslexic – no automatic spell checkers. Number 3, I’m dyslexic and left handed – it’s just a crazy mix of awkwardness – I’ll write with my hand looking all crooked, or slant the paper 90 degrees – it’s weird, it’s how I write, but it looks weird. Oh and I write cards backwards because of it “xxx Drew From Love Birthday Happy You To”. It has been said that the size and obscured nature of my handwriting is a crafty trick I subconsciously employed in order to hide my dyslexia at school – can’t mark my spelling as wrong if you can’t quite figure out what I’m actually writing huh can you teacher? Pa-chow, 1-Nil to Drew’s dyslexic brain. Unfortunately, eligible handwriting is super important for exams, 1-1 Drew’s dyslexic brain vs the world.  This lead to me, at the age of approx 15, to having to alter my handwriting completely (I used to write cursive) in order to give myself a better chance at being understood. 2-1 to Drew’s dyslexic brain. So actually, what you see in the picture is my handwriting v2. Personally, I love it. Sometimes however, if I’m taking notes in a hurry – returning to them a few days later takes more deciphering than the breaking the enigma. I could have been a doctor.

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You can find “Words” in my latest collection of poems, life: everything, anything, something and nothing (a collection of poems) available in both kindle and paperback formats through Amazon.

Suit Up – An Email to the Office

The office in which I work has a casual dress code. As such, a day was formed last year – a day in which we take a little bit of pride in our appearance. Where other offices have a “Casual Friday” we now have a “Suit Up Friday.”

Now Suit Up Fridays are a very special occasion, we don’t just have them all the time. In fact, we have only had 2 so far. To motivate the office for the 3rd, I sent out this email, an email in the style of everyones Suit-er Hero – Barney Stinson. Enjoy…


Bros – please – indulge me, a history lesson for you all. And yes ladies, I’m talking to you too. As Article 22 of the ‘Bro Code’ states – ‘There is no law that prohibits a woman from being a Bro.’

Way back in antiquity, human kind was striving forward. It had created fire, the wheel, the printing press. Yet even surrounded by such innovation, the human race went about its daily life with an perpetual feeling of emptiness. Something didn’t quite sit right on the shoulders of our ancestors. In fact, something was missing from those olden-time shoulders.

That was until one night, when a young Barthor J Stinson, a tailor’s apprentice from Luxembourg, had a vision. Whether or not the vision was brought about through the copious amount of whiskey he’d had the night before, or, as he claimed, the angels themselves came to him, singing unto him the secrets of the universe, is a matter or contention and not a discussion that has any place in this history lesson. All that matters is the vision he had – a 3-piece vision of a future where human-kind stood proud and tall, and with one voice, looked down on their gods and said – “I AM MAN.”

The fruition of that vision was but a nights work away.

The night following, when the master tailor had to his bed taken, Barthor crept back down to the workshop and, taking his masters finest threads, went to work. When the gloomy morning dawned, Barthor completed his masterpiece and eagerly slipped it on. As he did, the sun broke through the clouds, bursting into the workshop, illuminating Barthor much as it had illuminated Adam on that very first day in the garden of Eden. This was the real 2nd coming, the greatest coming of mankind…

…that day, my friends, was June 1st 1212…

(Side-note: June 1st 1212 was also the day the words “bro,” “dude” and “awesome” came into being)

Knowing his stuck up master would seek repercussions for his ‘theft’ – in the form of lashings no doubt – Barthor knew his time had come to move on. (Incidentally, had his master been one of those Amazonian-esque women he often saw on the Southside of the river after dark, Barthor might have stayed to face his ‘punishment.’) Leaving his life’s savings in the workshop, Barthor ‘borrowed without knowledge’ a pair of his masters finest leather shoes (for his master was a skilled cobbler too) and tied a length of silk around his neck. Opening the door of the workshop, the birds broke off from their morning chorus, the whole world turned and gasped in awe, the darkness inside them all lifted, the thing that they longed for had been found – the suit was born…

Bros of all kinds, this is why, on June 1st 2000 and 12, 800 years on from that glorious day, we must all get on down with suiting up. Am I right?

I’m right.

I thank you for your time and I hope you all look forward to your ‘necks’ lesson…the history of the tie. Which is why, for your homework assignment, NOVELTY TIES – there will be a show and tell. Due Friday 1st June 2012.

One of My First Poems

This weekend I came across a poem that I wrote when I was but a wee boy. It was written at a time when, evidently, I was too cool to spell my surname with more than one ‘e’ and didn’t see the point in Snowmen needing that ‘w’. Early signs of my dyslexia or just a kid writing? Anyway, for your reading pleasure I decided to scan the piece and have included it in this article along with a completely unabridged transcription.

So then, without further ado, may I present the online world premier of ‘Untitled: A poem written by Drew when he was very young. Or at least too young for him to remember writing. Which, if he’s honest, could mean he wrote it last week – such is his terrible memory.’

Scan of an untitled poem by Drew

Five white snomen
Outside the front door
An icicle fell on one
Then there were four

Drew Spencr

I understand that it is a very sad tale. But it is a necessary one that strikes to the very heart of what it means to be a Snowman, living such a fragile life. It also contains a strong moral that stands the test of time – beware of falling icicles (be careful kids). The entire poem either points to me being disturbed as a child or very socially aware. I know which one I would go for.

That’s all for now, but if you’d like to see how far my poetry has progressed, remember you can buy a copy of my book Love: unrequited, unrealised, unconditional and lost (long title I know!) Available on Amazon in both paperback and Kindle formats.