Within a matter of days I signed two contracts – one for a full-time job, the other to write a book. Continue reading Barely Brushing My Teeth.
Today is the first day I can remember not feeling hungry for years. Yes, I ate a piece of cake for breakfast, because it was there. Continue reading Using Myself As A Dustbin
Under a bridge in Holloway, a narrow cellophane wrapper holding a bunch of red roses. It was wedged into a metal hook in the wall to hold it upright. Also there, neatly folded and forming a puffy cube: a duvet without a cover. I hurried past, late, and wondered. Usually under that bridge there are people, wrapped in winter clothes and lying under duvets. Last time, a young woman had stopped to give a dishevelled man some coins. Now just the duvet and the roses. Had the flowers been a gift? Continue reading Looking A Gift Horse In The Mouth
One forgets. Though I still ruminate on the past, my marriage, my divorce (some might say endlessly) every so often as I search in my inbox or in actual piles of paper, I come across something that stops me in my tracks. Continue reading Everything He Touched Turned To Shit
Twelve hours or more I am out of the house these days; long days at work and an extensive commute. I arrive home tired, have to shop, cook, iron and so on, deal with rats and leaking roofs and the tax office, and – this week – my son forgetting to turn up to one of his exams, which necessitates more paperwork and cost than you would imagine. I try to squeeze in time to write another chapter of the book, already behind schedule, but luckily with an understanding publisher. Continue reading Having a Dog and Barking Yourself
I remember reading that if you are writing a book, you should remove all but three descriptions of dreams. And then, when you edit, you should remove those. Continue reading A Rose By Any Other Name
The novelty will soon wear off, I dare say. But for now I stand, hungry for input, on my daily commute. So many glimpses into so many lives, if you don’t keep your eyes in a book or on your tiny screen. Continue reading I Even Love The Commute