the crone

opening the door to ideas

I suppose I ought to write something. Just so it looks like I am still around. So. Here it is. This. Also. This. When I’m feeling suitably writerly miserable, when all avenues to creativity seem blocked, when hard-fought written words are thrown away like litter, the cheery rhetorical question of this ad makes me want …

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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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Sinking. That’s what I’ve been doing. Not writing. Not running. Not working. Not looking after myself. I’ve had long blank months where I could have written that novel/children’s story/poetry/comedy script/blog. And yet I do nothing. Except sink. The more I feel I *should* do something constructive, the more useless I feel. I’m drowning. I might thrash and …

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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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