My understanding is that Swan Paddle Boating will be an event at the next Olympics. My wife and I harbour a dream to represent our nation in the mixed doubles at this event. Unfortunately, we suffered a setback during our first training session, when we couldn't get both our bums in the boat at the same time. We are determined though and are now on the lookout for a swan paddle boat with a broader berth. We aim to feature on the rostrum. Watch...

It's been a great week for prose with Blighter's Rock's compelling adventures in Italy: https://www.abctales.com/story/blighters-rock/church-lost-souls-7 - which I hope will continue. Story of the week goes to a tale in three parts, exploring that path we all travel, Noo's Sleep Diary is full of rich imagery and is a great weekend read: https://www.abctales.com/story/noo/sleep-diary-part-3 There has been lots of wonderful and original poetry too...

This is confidential information for royal watchers of Norwich by the way. I ought to get paid for this blog!

The photo is of Jacob (almost 4) and James (just turned 2) in Warley Woods. Not sure which one is Pooh Bear. Jacob is the youngest child of my daughter, Karen. James is the youngest child of my daughter, Claire. Mrs. Treaclechops and I normally look after them on Fridays. It helps their parents keep childcare costs down… as well as keeping us young(ish) and fit(ish). Warley Woods is on the western edge of Birmingham. The lads were very wary...

I don’t know Maggy van Eijk, but I’ve read her poetry on ABCtales. It’s memorable because it’s amazing. But don’t ask me to tell you the names of any of her poems. Often I can’t remember my own name. What stands out is her loopy ability to juxtapose two images that makes sense. I’d like to give you an example, but I can’t be arsed looking. I had her down at one of those exotic younger women that had pretty much everything and jam on top. ‘...

Usually, I know what I’m going to say, although I’m not quite sure how I’m going to say it. I guess I’ll start with the author, George Saunders. He’s won a stack of awards and a litany of writers—Jonathan Franzen, Zadie Smith, Thomas Pynchon, Jennifer Egan, Junot Diaz, Lorrie Moore, Hairi Kunzru and Tobias Wolff—are stacked like library cards to testify to his originality and brilliance. I find Saunders hard work. And I don’t like reading to be...

Leggings – two stories and a moment of light. Sometimes the Ninnies who tell the stories to me and at me – during moments o f lucidity – in between their crimes – are extremely odd. Some blame it on old priests who lost their faith entirely due to their trading on the soul market. On their aptitude to zone in on people in this weird way. Others cite the 'mind readers' as the Spanish seaside traders who after generations of loss of job in the...

Once a month, usually on the first or second Saturday, I depart the ancestral battlements and make the twenty-five minute train journey to Malton, perhaps the epitome of a North Yorkshire market town. From September to July it’s a quiet journey, with plenty of seats available. From July to September it’s the sardine express, because the eventual destination is Scarborough. There are still many people who choose not to drive to the seaside, and...

In my smug way I thought I’d read Morvern Caller before and been unimpressed. I vaguely remembered a film of Alan Warner's book starring Ewan McGregor. I was reading an interview director Lynne Ramsay gave to The Observer. I had another look at the book and realised I hadn’t read it, there was no film with Ewan or any other McGregor and I loved it’s in your face style. It’s the kind of people I know. Quite simply, Morvern Caller talks like us...

'I like three things," announces Pietro, a bear of a man with two metal lower lip piercings framed by a lush black beard, "snow, dogs and building things." We are at a husky camp 60 degrees latitude within the arctic circle, on a bitterly cold St. Valentines day. The camp is a cacophony of yelps, barks and howls, "When you enter, don't run, just let them come up and introduce themselves," says Pietro. He's hard to hear over the din. He opens the...