Out of the Picture Frame

We circle the Arch of Remembrance, the war memorial in the park. It is a war of attrition, this trying to get you to nap. Your little head b...

Things look different at night. We sail, us two, in a boat of muddled dreams, docking at small islands of sleep, dotted across deep seas of...

I stand alone by this window, alone with you. A cellophane windowed envelope beneath my foot betrays my rocking motion to the dark room. You...

Each of my labours have been so very different. With this, my last, it felt like we got things right. 'Right', not that there is ...

When I was younger I used to play the flute. For hours and hours and hours on end. No one would ever have to tell me to 'go to your r...

Well hello there, old blog of mine. It's been a long time. A very long time. Why the hiatus? What's happened you ask? Well, firs...

Sometimes we think we know stuff. Sometimes we think we know it better than anyone else. Particularly when that stuff is something we know ...