The Slowworm’s Song begins with ‘Start,’ and ends with ‘Start’, and in between there is a ‘Stop’. I guess that’s true of most of life, although there might be a lot of hanging about in between. Ex-soldier Stephen Rose lives in Somerset, which is home of sorts. It was where he was brought up by his father. Quakers don’t join the army, but Stephen went against the grain of his father’s pacifist beliefs and that decision defined his adult life. He...

The weeks seem to be flying by. I hope you all survived the heat. No moaning about today’s rain, please. Story of the Week Story of the Week this week goes to not-so-cosy Cotswolds-set “The Bounds” by Charlie77. The start of something longer, this first part is gripping, chilling and blessed with a narrative voice that is very strong indeed. Do check out Rosalie Kempthorne’s latest, too. Discovery is as off-kilter and unsettling as all her work...

If as some people believe, Russia was behind the Brexit vote, might it be possible they have been influencing social media to turn the population against Johnson? It is not as though everyone was not aware he found truth dull at best, to be glossed over with mockery or buried in fluff of Latin quotes. I don't see why, just now, everyone has suddenly noticed the emperor has no clothes? If Putin were responsible for Johnson becoming PM, as he was...

Google announced they would delete data. Algorithms rule the world. And their algorithm made Sergey Brin and Larry Page the richest men in the world. That’s the equivalent of an oil company announcing it would no longer produce petrol. Google would not cooperate with law officials who sought to prosecute women seeking abortion in lieu of Roe versus Wade after searching online, using Google. Google is a noun and verb. Google trends offer the...

Robert Edric is six or seven years older than me, but scenes of a Sheffield childhood are remarkably similar to mine. A writer’s job is to remember. I remember my da punched my mum. My sisters would probably make some excuse, as if it never happened. I don’t remember me wee brother setting his jammies on fire, and him being rushed to hospital. I was only a kid, but I find it strange I forgot what happened that day. Edric does remember everything...

Poets make the best writers. Ways To Fold a Swan is a chapbook. I remember Rachel Smart from when she was an editor at ABCtales (she probably still is). I read everything she wrote. Poetry mostly, but also prose. Story of the week stuff. I like her writing because she writes about people I recognise. People like me. Working class, and unashamedly so. Words she recognises come preloaded with meaning. ‘Rouse, ravish, rape.’ Roe versus Wade. Tens...

Girl, Women, Other won the Booker Prize for Bernardine Evaristo in 2019. This mimics one of her twelve characters, Amma. Her play at The National, The Last Amazons of Dohomey is a popular and critical hit. Amma, the outsider, has become Amma, the insider. Bernardine Everisto, playwright, poet, author and critic has become part of the cultural elite. An insider and outsider. Four chapters, twelve characters. Each chapter giving verse of their...

The idea that there is profit to be made from essential services is silly. It's like making fleas responsible for a cat. Recently some non essential procedures were scrapped in Health centres. It was an option on a survey I was sent by our local council, on how to cut costs, so I wasn't sure how widespread it was. Then there was a bit about it on Health Check on radio 4, so it's not just here. One of the procedures no longer free from the Health...

https://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/m0017x2b/panorama-undercover-britains-biggest-gp-chain https://www.theguardian.com/society/2022/jun/13/britains-biggest-chain-of-gp-surgeries-accused-of-profiteering My partner recently had to go into hospital. The Queen Elizabeth Hospital in Glasgow, Accident and Emergency. It was recently slated for having up to a thirteen-hour waiting time. We know there is little point phoning for a GP appointment on the...

Summy passed me working in Kerr’s garden in Shakespeare Avenue. It runs parallel with our horseshoe shaped street—and he stays in McGrath’s old council house, a few houses down—from home. He was taking his two sons down the road. I imagined it was to school or nursery. One of the boys fell behind, and he was acting up. Summy was firm, but loving with him. Summy’s mum was an alkie. His step-dad was away working for the Shah of Iran. He spent a...