I want to tell you about that day I was trapped in a room with a man who wanted to talk about GOLF. Golf. Golf. Golf. He went on and on. I couldn’t escape as I was waiting in hospital for an appointment (which was a long, long wait of 3 hours: I had awoken …
I’ve been remembering one of the greatest moments of my life with my son when he was aged 8. SCENE: A Paediatric Psychologist’s consulting room. Various toys and bricks are placed strategically around the doctor’s desk. AFTER A PREAMBLE CHAT WITH THE BOY AND EXPLORATION OF TOYS … Boy: “I see this wind-up Bob the …
First, keep the copy dull and flabby. This ensures nobody will read it. Treat it as a load of squiggly lines that can be put into the right sized box to suit the design. Don’t think about your audience, or why they took the time to visit your website. Make sure you leave out anything …
I once made little worlds with moss The soft green cushions Were the lush green grass Of the hills The little trees standing so tall and proud (They do not know they are not tall at all) Pushed the moss cushions into a biscuit tin lid Arranged some pretty stones (Well not pretty – just …
I used to think that the clouds went to bed at night When I saw them softly wandering towards the horizon at sunset I imagined they gathered together In a heap On the horizon Resting Bedded down Until morning came When it was time to stretch and pull away For another day wandering the open …
This ad has made me a bit angry today. Not just the fact that it shows the arrogance of a company (person?) who doesn’t care enough about the written word to check spellings. But because somewhere, some place, some poor uncertain, shy writer may actually PAY THIS PERSON TO REVIEW THEIR WORK. And that is very sad. …
Been sharing some lovely unintentional Ivor Cutler poems. These make me smile. “Slippers For Feet” “Five Cakes. Eight Cakes. Served With A Jug of Cream.” If you have never heard any Ivor Cutler poetry, and you love words and absurdity, you might like to discover more. Life in A Scottish Living Room Squeeze Bees Hello! How are …
There was a zombie woman on my early morning train. Her face was a skeleton. Smooth tea-coloured skin stretched over dry bones. Milky blank eyes of faint cataract blue. Colourless dry wisps of hair stuck to the dome of her skull. Her maw was opened. Dark. Like a tunnel. The dry lips strained. Mouthing. She stared forward. Focusing …
the crone 