Autobiography
The Sad Demise of the Plastic Triceratops
A bit of retail psychotherapy.
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- 965 reads
Jasmine Tea
The call came early on a Saturday. My sister. Panicked. She’d rung our mother and found her breathless, confused, whispering in a voice that no...
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- 203 reads
Let Me Go Back
Dear diary...it's June 24 th 2025. Glastonbury festival has now arrived, surrounded by faces immersed in music. I fix eyes on knowledge of past,...
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- 1127 reads
Thinking about Meliorism
For a few years now in my academic work I’ve been thinking about love. bell hooks suggests that there are ‘not very many public discussions of love [...
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- 412 reads
Once Around The Block
You'll know what I mean. The Block. The only solution is a good (bad) old fashioned disaster movie.
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- 2153 reads
When Time Has Elapsed
Dear diary... Now sitting quietly in my garden shed, surrounded by implements once used for flower beds; remembering how we lived the dream, that...
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- 1879 reads
Have I told you lately...
Our morning ritual to say thank you for my cup of tea lovingly prepared, just strong enough, just milky enough no sugar. So much attention carefully...
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- 225 reads
Perverse Future
Dear diary... How I long for breathing space, Evoking past is all it takes To fulfill measure of time... Hiding doubts reflected in Disenchantment...
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- 4473 reads
Immersed in barley!
Sometimes a crop the farmer sows, then clears a line where the footpath goes across his field. Sometimes he leaves the crop to grow and thinks the walkers all will go across and trample down that bit, and so others the footpath’s track will know …
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- 1109 reads
Golden Aged
Years ago, the cinema was top. Rare to see a disappointing flop. Of course, crisp packets went embarrassingly pop. In crime, it was a satisfying fair...
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- 197 reads