Apricot invites all and sundry to read her works, those who share her opinions and those who don't, those who like her style or cringe at it, those who appreciate her or scorn her - all she asks is that her thoughts be neither accepted nor discarded without first being considered. Questioning and thinking for oneself are the key and she dearly hopes that one day the human race will turn to their own instinct and not the mainstream media to discover what is going on in the world.
Is the world we're living in turning into George Orwell's 1984? Are we really as free as we suppose? To her bewilderment Apricot finds herself asking this more and more. Perhaps her fears are ungrounded yet only when she loses the ability to laugh, when the mundane becomes boring and the serious becomes tragic; only then will Apricot feel her freedom has finally slipped away.
Apricot adds that she doesn't normally describe herself in the third person but thought it would look rather clever and sound a little less like she was blowing her own trumpet.
Ah, and talking about blowing her own trumpet - Apricot has recently been voted by her much loved Hub family no.3 Hub poet for 2009 despite her own view that she has as much poetic ability as a cow chewing on its cud. But poetry may flow through the least expected of veins - even those of a chomping cow.
Apricot is the pen name of a writer whose real name can be found in the title of a famous Beatles' song (not 'I am the Walrus' - you can rule that right out.)