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Details from the Front
I’m sleeping between two Springfield rifles. Each would be as long as I am were the bayonets fixed, but that’s not a good idea in a civil war dog tent, so called because when the soldiers first saw them they said they were only big enough for a dog. There’s two of us in here. Continue reading
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A Few Choice Words
Sometimes, on courses or at workshops, as an ice-breaker you’re asked to say something interesting about yourself. It’s a cruel torture for introverts like myself. My line, which is really about someone else, is that my grandfather was born one-hundred and one years before me, in 1864, around the time of the burning of Atlanta. Continue reading
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Slippery Little Tadpoles
We were in Cardiganshire, Ceredigion, over the end of May. ‘We’ being my wife, Sally, my youngest daughter, my dog and myself. We go to Wales most years. I grew up there and have a brother and sister who wisely never fought their way out. Why would you, with nook beaches backed by green hills Continue reading
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The Story Harvest
People have been sending me stories lately; lots and lots of them. I’m a story magnet. This isn’t some random cosmic aberration, it’s because I’m helping to run a short story competition on behalf of the Steyning Festival and the West Sussex Writers. As the final day for entries approached, I received more and more Continue reading
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Today Worthing, Tomorrow the World
It’s been a while since my last post. This is entirely due to re-entering the world of full-time work. It’s been a tough adjustment. No sympathy cards, please. Gone are the morning dog walks where I mused on the day’s writing ahead. Instead it’s a 6:30 rise and my writing time is the 40-minute train Continue reading
Shire's Union 