Day 246
The novel I’m reading right now is Author, Author by David Lodge. It’s basically a fictionalised retelling of the last days of Henry James (whom I must admit to never having… Continue Reading
Day 245
I occasionally break the rule about all of this blog having to be new writing, but as we move towards the end of what has been a glorious summer in… Continue Reading
Day 244
the shepherd they live on the hills a gasp away from the house; singular single androgynous indeterminate shimmering fading in and out of the green, made of air and fire… Continue Reading
Day 243
the woman the woman grieves for the man asleep in the chair, grieves for her part in his descent, how he has pushed her to the margins of his existence,… Continue Reading
Day 242
the man the man is tired, sick and tired of the world not turning the way he wants it to, his faith in the spirits ebbing, exhausted by too many… Continue Reading
Day 241
the animals the animals smell it, scent it, and it makes them contradictory, running away one moment and coming close the next, lying by the olding man, so close they… Continue Reading
Day 240
Last night, when M went to pick up A from work, the house was utterly silent (we’d paused a film we’d started watching), and I took great pleasure in wandering… Continue Reading
Day 239
Today I actually did things I wanted to do. Had a lie-in. Drove down to Stradbroke (and dropped A at work on the way). Watched the lads play cricket (they… Continue Reading
Day 238
Being back on BBC Radio Norfolk with Stephen Bumfrey yesterday was a blast. But I’d been more nervous than I can ever remember being when I walked down into Norwich…. Continue Reading
Day 237
The rain woke me at 2am. It sounded like the gutters of all the houses in the street were overflowing. The noise was overwhelming, and the sound of the water… Continue Reading