books
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Don’t Judge a Book…
The truth is though, people do. In the same way we judge a plate of food before we taste it, a house by a front door, a company by a logo. Heck, when out walking my impeccably well-behaved Golden Doodle, Duffy (see The Dog Days of April) I’ll judge a dog from 80 yards by Continue reading
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Bletchley Park
Aunty Pip started work at Bletchley Park in 1943. By then it was already a big operation. She would have been eighteen or nineteen. I’d long wanted to take my family there. Pip was the connection, the blood tie to the past, but even without that deeper link, there’s something very special about Bletchley. The 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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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 