Author: ivan

Le mojo c’est tombe en panne. I think that means it’s French. Does that mean it’s covered in bread? French bread? Like a Pret-A-Ris morsel? An idea sandwich that has gone slightly stale and sits limply alongside the novelty flavoured pasties on the shelf of the third fridge from the door in the motorway service… Continue reading Slow-jo mojo

I’ve just had a supper of ginger nuts and baked beans.  And a rather cheeky Rioja.  Although why wine gets described as ‘cheeky’ is beyond me.  I’ve seen them make it.  ‘Footy’ or ‘cheesy’ or even ‘buniony’ would be more apposite. For the record, I don’t really recommend it – ginger nuts and baked beans… Continue reading Yum yum

So.  I treated myself today.  I miss my vinyl .  For a couple of years now I’ve been meaning to get the kit to digitise my collection, which has been in boxes for the best part of five years now.  Anyhoo.  So one of these and one of these later, I am now the proud… Continue reading Catch 22 – or maybe 45

… is how you get to make really good friends with the people that really matter in life.  Mr Vacuum Cleaner.  Little Miss Iron.  Mr Kettle.  Mrs Pot.  Sometimes they breed or you forget what you’re doing until you’re doing the ironing with the teapot and trying to retract the cord on the iron. Seriously. … Continue reading The best things of being a writer…57 in an infinite series

A very interesting and busy week, in which I have been excited no less than four times.  Four!  And one of them wasn’t even imaginary! Ok.  Four was an exaggeration, but it’s been a good week, which, as is the nature of these things, means I haven’t had time to blog for the benefit of… Continue reading This is the silence of sound

Don’t hate me for what I am I not Don’t hate me for what I didn’t say Don’t hate me for what I didn’t do Hate me because of I…

Wine, whine away my tears my eyes red and conscience said. I played my part, I played my part. Bottle green and thoughts unseen of feelings mean and feelings keen. Upset as my applecart by your sudden change of heart. I shrank my world and drank my tears away.

Your soul’s up for auction, no known reserve, Blank out the people, hold your nerve. Shoot stares, shoot the breeze laugh along with the latest web wheeze. You never meant it to get to this, news, cameras, commentary axis. Money.  Your demons want it more than you sell yourself for your Jimmy Choos they are… Continue reading The glamour hammer

Tired is as tired does, A rumble tumble bumble buzz. Lazy days and boring ways easy meat and easy lays. So it says.