Tag: Writing

The Love of My Life; With Name-Dropping of Philosophers, Fugitive Policemen and Others

The signs in my kitchen have long needed a reason to be shared. As for Katharina, I've not met her; she could still be here among my fellow poltergeists or perhaps the mice have carried her off. Shame - we might have had something.
The signs in my kitchen have long needed a reason to be shared. As for Katharina, I’ve not met her; she could still be here among my fellow poltergeists or perhaps the mice have carried her off. Shame – we might have had something.

Childless women in their thirties staying in bed until the mid-afternoon, reading their first book by Schopenhauer, Seneca or Montaigne – contemplating the apathy with which they regard their own mortality over the first gin of the afternoon and rubbing one out before the news kills the passion – these are the kinds of women you don’t seem to meet dating online.

I just read the manifesto of the vengeful L.A. Cop-Killing Killer-Cop who is currently running rings around his former colleagues after swearing to take the corrupt all to hell with their loved ones for a lack of honour, honesty and common decency. Continue reading “The Love of My Life; With Name-Dropping of Philosophers, Fugitive Policemen and Others” →

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Proof of Life, Wine Guide and a Video for Katie and Shaun

"There will be no miracles here." The grounds of my girlfriend's workplace. I took this before we met. I disagree wholeheartedly.
The grounds of my girlfriend’s workplace. I took this before we met. I disagree wholeheartedly.

It’s been over a month since I posted anything here and even though I have nothing I feel comfortable sharing with you I still feel it polite to show a little love to whoever reads these things as it can’t all be people stumbling upon this site by mistake. It’s not that we don’t love you, we’re just so busy. Continue reading “Proof of Life, Wine Guide and a Video for Katie and Shaun” →

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A Haunted House and Falling off the Danish Bandwagon

This is where I live. Please don't come and murder me.

So it turns out that the squirrels that scamper around the bounding bunnies to the refrain of robins and mischievous magpies (sorry) are the descendants of the very rodents my great grandmother enjoyed watching before she died.

Yep, call it coincidence or providence, but this old hospital I’ve moved into is where my mother’s nan spent her final months. She passed away metres from where I type these words. Continue reading “A Haunted House and Falling off the Danish Bandwagon” →

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Magnetic Gandhi

I read an interesting article the other day in which Stewart Lee raises a terrifying argument about Scottish Independence; a point summed up succinctly in the sub heading: The loss of 5.5 million Scots would mean 5.5 million fewer voices to say no to Cameron’s cronies. As you may know, there are more pandas in Scotland than Tory MPs.

Now I was living in Glasgow last year and I voted for Alex Salmond’s SNP, thinking it a good thing as I’d recently walked up the Wallace Monument and had rekindled a healthy sense of colonial guilt; instead, it turns out I was shooting myself and every other red-blooded English liberal in the foot. Continue reading “Magnetic Gandhi” →

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Hello World…

Well… here I am.

I’ve been in Middlesbrough three days now, moved here after a year in Glasgow to attend university. I haven’t lived in England for more than six years and although the mortal terror I feel almost constantly is more a product of my own personality disorders than an indictment on the town it is still very strange being back among my own kind. Continue reading “Hello World…” →

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