She shrank away, down grey blighted streets, where the red-bricked terraces shrank back in surprise; and all the signs on shops looked aged and faded. Leaves ushered assorted admonishments; trees stood dismissive and unearthed; a shopkeeper raised his criss-cross brow: for where do we go after birth? She lay in her abandoned place, memory tight … Continue reading The Fallen Woman
I loved stilton, cut with a speared knife, placed on paper napkin, eaten, down by the river, where the blue tits flitter, and the sky has a buttermilk sheen, and I loved Roquefort, and mellow Shropshire Blue, with a whole load of plum chutney and an oat cracker or two. I loved sausages, fiery skinned … Continue reading An Ode to Stilton.
He lived with me. No contract had been signed. I didn't ask for a lodger. I had asked on multiple occasions for him to leave. When it became obvious he wouldn't leave without a prompt, I packed a polythene bag full of sandwiches and threw it up the garden, where it smashed into my lame … Continue reading The House Guest
I have spoken before about struggling with anxiety. It has been an issue since small but has grown with age, mophing and changing in shape, texture and severity. Why I am the anxious type is not easy to fathom. There are lots of things that may have contributed I suppose, like all of us, but … Continue reading Trapped Inside My House
She watched, trembling, as he put his purchases on the counter and took his wallet from his trousers, gave the woman a crisp five pound note. He had green apples, a tin of ham, fresh milk, chocolate digestives, and a jar of something. The jar had a cream sticker on its front: a picture of … Continue reading Death by Fruit.
I'm over at the Depression Army today talking about depression. http://www.depressionarmy.com/ourblog/2017/7/16/memories-of-depression
I opened my eyes onto red brick. Long since I had opened them onto anything more. I pulled myself upright, which was somewhat difficult and stared across the road at galvanised steel. Nothing. A spider with a body like a tiny black pin prick whispered across the grey, concrete step and disappeared into a hole. … Continue reading Shadow Lives
I didn't hear anyone. I had been playing with my doll, putting a new pink dress on her. It was a cheap doll and its body was hollow, not rubbery like a Barbie. They couldn't afford expensive toys, not now daddy had lost his job. A person grabbed my arm and I threw the doll … Continue reading Surplus
‘Mornin!’ Isla threw her woven shopping bag to the floor and quickly untied her headscarf. ‘Mornin,’ Alick shouted from behind the counter, bent down, picking up an array of books donated by a young woman earlier that morning. It had been such a large pile they had collapsed and fallen to the floor, scattered themselves … Continue reading The Village – A Story About The Consequences Of War