If a writer’s heart beats within me…I’m certainly feeling its rhythm today. Words are warring in my head as I puzzle over a new chapter…but it isn’t annoying…for me...it’s an adventure. Creating the events unfolding in my mind…giving voices to thoughts…moving characters along in strategic chess moves…all leading up to a powerful ending….hopefully a powerful ending…but that chapter is yet to be written... When I can be one with my thoughts…no...

The story behind the story of Sugar Money seems the usual hokum of a neighbour digging out an unpublished manuscript which turns out to be the extraordinary story of Lucien, a ten-year old slave boy. How he and his elder brother Emile, in a few weeks in December 1765, got involved in a remarkable attempt to liberate slaves from slavery and bring them back into, em, slavery. Read the title again and you’ll understand – money. When money is...

Why is Exmouth's only well-known female writer (1919-1999) almost invisible? The Guardian and the Independent both describe her poetry as 'wry.' Wry rhymes with 'shy', the vowels of wry chime with 'irony'. No mention of passion, fire, humour, bite. The lace curtain of 'wry' sells her short, ignores her often present precision and anger. Her swipe at her father, who lived his working life 'from puberty to impotence' as a railway clerk at Exeter...

Leggings – over Christmas and New Year. Have been extra busy, down to Greater London in a taxi to my sons, saw the family off to China, and then the older grand daughter and I went back by train after a day or so had passed. Strange night, heard noises, voices outside, almost if someone was walking around. Odd. Noted that a block of flats existed about 3 gardens away – wondered if it was like to ours, and whether the voices came from that...

To my niece Willow, I was born on the 10 th December 1962. Fifty-five years ago not only was my mum Jean alive, but she had given birth and was nursing me back to health somewhere in darkest Braeholm, Helensburgh. I wasn’t expected to live. I don’t remember the reasons why. Yeh, we showed them mum. What we showed them I’m not really sure. I’m nearer death than birth now. Life is the miracle. And I’m not likely to forget you birthday, Willow. It’...

The photo was taken at 6.30am on New Year’s Day. James (almost 2 years) and Jack (5 years) are having a sleepover and had taken over our bed… they wake up early regardless of whatever day of the year it is. We have a spare room which we’ve set up for grandkids, but they all invade our bedroom early mornings during sleepovers. They are the children of our youngest daughter, Claire. Their dad, Mark, is in hospital for a couple of days having some...

I was feeling rather stodgy after Christmas excess and Mrs. Treaclechops had a mild dose of winter blues, so we decided to have a stroll along the river Rea in south Birmingham. It was a mild 10℃, with a sky of intermittent light cloud and bright sunshine. The start of our walk was a 15-minute drive away and we planned for a half hour wander… one hour in total for the excursion. As ever, I took my camera, but with the bleak winter landscape...

The last Old Firm game of the year and Rangers take a point and could have taken more, but from some crucial saves from Craig Gordon. Ranger’s keeper Wes Foderingham also blocked well, early on, from Moussa Dembele. His save from James Forest was superb. And Scott Sinclair hit him with the ball twice and contrived to miss, just before half time from six yards. A first half that Celtic dominated, after a shaky start, in which Rangers had the...

A long book which does away mostly with character, dialogue and plot. A central character who is a lot of people the main one, Bernardo being a 'mutilated' Fernando, the same environment but more restricted. The lethargy of a still great capital city in a country which ruled the world for centuries. A ledger clerk who is underpaid and accepts it as he has become almost fond of the office where he works as a near robot and who thinks Vasques, his...

Bernard MacLaverty short story collections begins in 1977 with Secrets and ends with his fifth collection in 2006 with Matters of Life & Death . I read one or two of his short stories a day, in no particular hurry. An uneven bunch. I’m looking at the contents page. Some stories stick in the mind more than others. Perhaps that has more to do with the more recently read story. I re-read the introduction, MacLaverty taking a look back at his...