The summer silenced me. I found myself gently guiding the words creeping up from the cellar of my brain, back down the rickety stairway to the depths from which they had come. Dark words, damp words, words full of sadness … Continue reading
As she runs downstairs, late as always, her perfume lingers on the landing then slowly makes its way under my door, floats across the room and seeps into my nostrils which are half asleep. They had determinedly been ignoring my … Continue reading
Except for my back which is killing me because I was leaning over from the waist for three hours solid. And my knees have a strange aztec design now ingrained on them, maybe for life, from kneeling on our hugely … Continue reading
WTH? (Hell – way more polite than its friend F). This is not some Scottish regional dialect. This sentence was my childood chant. One that, aged fifty (fifty-one, stop reminding me), I’d like to bring back into use. I chanted … Continue reading
Me, the scribbler
