the crone

opening the door to ideas

T’was the week before Christmas, when all through the land Not a creature was safe from austerity’s hand.   The P45s were placed in the OUT-tray with care, While Chairman and MD made sure they weren’t there.   At home, children nestled all snug in their beds, While downstairs mum and dad raged off their …

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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. …

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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 …

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Whales. Poor whales. Poor dead sperm whales, to be specific. Six of them have beached themselves on the east shores of the UK over the last few weeks. I don’t have any theories as to why they washed up. They were still alive (well, at first) so it wasn’t something as basic as their mighty …

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I follow the thought-provoking blog A Narcissist Writes Letters, To Himself so it was wonderfully exciting last week to find a yellow padded package (with an exotic San Francisco return address) stuffed into my humble post box here in the UK. The Narcissist (E.I. Wong Himself) had kindly sent me a copy of his book*. I sat down at my quintessentially English breakfast …

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I wanted to be a poet once upon a time. Ha ha. But please feel free to Open door Then a storyteller. Well, I ended up with a blog. Then I wanted to work in advertising. And I did. I was (and am) a creative copywriter. But along the way I learnt how to suffer when my creation was pinned to a …

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Lemmy. David Bowie. Alan Rickman. Sharing an appropriate salute to the past fortnight. Pic taken from the Twitter feed of @CardinalPhink. I’ll leave you with Alan Rickman’s words. “A film, a piece of theatre, a piece of music or a book can make a difference. It can change the world.” Ain’t that the truth.  

    So that’s Christmas over.   That means no wine.   The above is quite a crisp and refreshing experience for me. I’m feeling cool and deliciously smooth, with a hint of tropical fruits (mainly because I’m eating a lot of tropical fruits). It’s good for my mental health and my attitude to business for 2016, because for the …

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Christmas, eh. It’s all well and good if you are in a happy place. But when you’re not, Christmas is something that can push you over the tinsel-bedecked edge. “Joy to the World!” pipes the tinny supermarket muzak as you watch sad, grim-faced people gazing at boxes of SuperValu mince pies. It can feel miserable. …

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