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Category Archives: this year
Resolution for 2013
Here’s my resolution for 2013: I’m going to embrace my dark side. The wages of not-sin are dull and mean. I’m at the right age to go “Evil Queen”. Being good is hard work: I have tried. In 2013 it’s … Continue reading
Posted in life, poem, this year
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I was strictly forbidden from touching the piano.
I glide through life not remembering anything. Films, faces, dates, days, years, they all slip through me like elvers through a too-coarse net, and I go on unregretful, unburdened by both the memory and by my own inability to remember: … Continue reading
My life as a trapped animal.
I’ve got a grump on[1]. I don’t often grump – or if I do, it’s usually very brief and passes in a couple of hours, because I filter my own thoughts like a crab filters beach sand. I throw out … Continue reading
I am wearing fur.
I love Leveson as much as the next chap, but there comes a point – after, say, reading the first 300 articles on it – where you think “I can’t add anything to this. People who are better known and … Continue reading
Occupied premises.
The telly is on. Your eldest is deeply involved in her mobile phone. The middle one is doing homework – reluctantly – at the dining table, and the youngest one is running a brightly coloured plastic car across your face, … Continue reading
Andy, you’re going to die alone.
What. A. Dick. Head. Seriously, go and read that. I’ll wait. *drums fingers on table* Are you done? Good. I’m going to tell you precisely why the borderline (borderline?) psychopath who wrote that piece is going to die alone, and … Continue reading
A flock of sorrows.
When you have had a very sad thing happen in your life, it is going to come back at you, sometimes. You’ll go through the first few years after it, looking at the world through it, filtered by it, as … Continue reading
The Crow Ground, autumn, a general update.
The soil has all been scraped off the Crow Ground. Scraped off and arranged in an enormous pile with a flat top, like a low-rent sculpture of Table Mountain out of Close Encounters. The mound of what was rich habitat … Continue reading
The big gay witch-hunt: what it says about our understanding of rape.
It is perhaps a subtle point, but what troubles me most about the people who ignorantly conflate “gay” and “paedophile” isn’t so much the obvious homophobia of it, as the implication that raping children is somehow an extension of, or … Continue reading
Allotmenting and summerhousing.
I haven’t blogged about the garden or anything for ages. Ironically, this isn’t because nothing has been happening (give me a moment to cast an eye over my back garden where nothing has very definitely been happening for some weeks, … Continue reading
