Day 108
The garden smells of wild onions. In our ignorance, we thought they were just outsized snowdrops. It wasn’t until I mowed them down after I’d tidied up the construction site… Continue Reading
Richard Pierce – author, poet, painter
The garden smells of wild onions. In our ignorance, we thought they were just outsized snowdrops. It wasn’t until I mowed them down after I’d tidied up the construction site… Continue Reading
Easter Sunday used to be the day on which I put everything to one side and spent the day painting and listening to classical music. I haven’t done that for… Continue Reading
A perfect drying day. It’s warm in the sun, with a slight breeze. But it’s cold here in the study, and part of me (all of me) doesn’t really want… Continue Reading
I am listening to my own voice while writing this. My good friend David Mann kindly asked me to do a punk radio show with him, and I’m listening to the… Continue Reading
Perhaps I am too orderly even in my writing life. I’m behind again on sticking the blog printouts into my journal, and it hinders me in handwriting ideas into that… Continue Reading
If you get the chance to see The Worst Person In The World, go to see it. M, A, and I went to see it yesterday evening, and I thought it… Continue Reading
This will sound weird. I have swapped my study slippers for my house slippers. Broadcasting standing up, I noticed that, because the (now ex) study slippers just have their back… Continue Reading
There comes a time when shared self-reflection seems useless and indulgent, self-indulgent. The sun is out. There is a gentle breeze. Building materials scattered across the lawn by the house…. Continue Reading
For weeks now, I have been meaning to make a list headed Cause & Effect to work out why my body is malfunctioning so much at the moment. At its… Continue Reading
M agreed yesterday to give me a Number 1 haircut (that’s very short, by the way). I had started to feel the weight of my long (for me) hair for… Continue Reading