This month, I have mainly been on holibobs. And training for a marathon. And readling lots and lots of Rebus, I mean, Rankin, in order to clear my head for the writing marathon ahead. I’ve been carefully storing away faces and far away places in my head, ready to re-draw them on the page, or… Continue reading Units of faffage

Stress. Is relative. Or to be more accurate. Stress is relatives. And what with everything being relative, well that would mean that stress is all around us. But if love, actually, is all around us, then that would mean that stress equals love and all around (ie everywhere) would be relative. Which could be a… Continue reading Meh, or, if you could be any tree in the verse, what kind of tree would you be?

Hmm. And again, hmm. And thrice hmm. Hmm hmm hmm (wasn’t that a song?). First, some apologies: (1) To the couple standing opposite me at a crossing after I’d been running 17 miles. The hysterical laughter was in fact at the pain, not the bloke’s hair. Though it was funny. (2) To the driver of… Continue reading Running yes, writing no

Odd day. Odd McBod. An hour long chat with someone I used to work with where I was acutely conscious that I wasn’t so much joining in a conversation as simply recounting my experience of their experience. And vice versa. I guess it’s fair to say neither of us are natural networkers. At work I… Continue reading A new career?

He can tell they are arguing from a hundred yards away. The man is gesticulating, his arm punctuating sentences with open fisted punches, a one armed prayer. She is pushing a pushchair at near glacial speed. Her bottom rises and rolls, encased in a thin layer of denim. He is wearing leather and anger. The… Continue reading Sin City makes you walk down streets funny

The last few weeks have been very stressful for various reasons. I haven’t written anything, even here for a while now, which is both annoying and not part of the plan. As much as I would like to, I simply don’t have limitless amounts of energy and creativity – work (as in the paying kind)… Continue reading Hubris

I’m ill. Which is in no way news. It’s not ill behaviour, or ill-gotten gains after all. It is simply a virus, attached to a lifelong genetic issue that is aggravated by stress and is simply, tedious. A lifelong condition – more of a social illness than anything particularly serious. Well, depending on your view… Continue reading Virus, viral, viramus

I’ve completely gone off the boil, writing-wise. All my energies are going into work and training at the moment. Ok, and rioja. Tom and Frank are less distinct in my head, stepping back into line of the players in my mind’s theatre. Or something less p-word. I haven’t read a book for a while either… Continue reading Neglect and negligees

I have / am very busy. As in my arse is in gear, mon derriere c’est busy. By which I do not mean I have diarrhoea. Oh no. Far from it. But still, busy. Like a busy thing. Excitement, isn’t it? Oh. And in typical volte-tush, I have decided to not finish this novel and… Continue reading Hiatush

There appears to be a surfeit of adjectives doing the rounds. I blame the blueberry-flavoured, extra-filtered yet comfortable, expensive and soft, new, improved Cillit Bang. And the grammar’s gone! Seriously, there are too many things that are too many things. Let a thing be a thing, people. Why can’t a cereal bar simply be a… Continue reading Crunchy yet chewy