Category: Art
Rain Didn’t Stop Play
As dusk fell, with heavy precipitation turning my slim fit jeans into a second skin, I entered the camper van to jokingly asking Sarah if she had an industrial size shoe horn. A utensil I’d identified as a useful accessory to ease me outta my sodden denims. My partner and I had just spent an…
He’s Percy & She’s Glad
In lieu of today’s blog I enclose a whimsical short story written for part of writing workshop I attended today. Hopefully it’ll scratch that literary itch:- “For the love of god, can you please turn that bloody central heating down, GG!” An admonishment delivered from inside his battered old bird cage by outspoken parrot Percy….
More Luck Than Judgement
Recently I enrolled upon a course of Zoom based writing workshops. These delightful clambakes giving me an opportunity to engage with like-minded individuals who share my love of penmanship, or penwomanship in the case of other participants. Incidentally, despite yours truly’s spell checker stating penwomanship isn’t a genuine word, as penpersonship receives similarly negative responses…
Reckless Impulse Buying
Many years ago someone, maybe the UK Overcoat Federation’s Head of Marketing, told me “You can never own too many coats, Gary!” Actually, coming to think of it, as I’ve never spoken to the Head of Marketing for the UK Overcoat Federation, or indeed even know if the role or society exists, I can say…
‘Eading To Edinburgh
I’m penning this missive aboard carriage A on a Transpennine train to Newcastle. Out of the window to my right the flat sweeping green fields of North Yorkshire provide enchantingly scenic views. Looking through left sided windows affords similarly aesthetic landscape for this middle aged fella’s tired eyes. They say the early bird captures the…
Victor’s First Venture
Although monochrome of hue, Victor the camper van wouldn’t have looked any more impressive if clad in chromatic peacock feathers, standing on my drive pre- journey. His bonnet puffing out with the self-satisfied hubris a boxer exhibits when knocking an opponent to the floor. Incidentally, my use of ‘his’ above is merely a term of endearment. There…
To The Victor Go The Spoils
This effort littéraire is my first creative offering since the 12th September. A prose paucity consequential of several life episodes, rendering free time at my laptop of a premium. Amongst the culprits causing this dearth of written dialect were a couple of short breaks, along with a multitude of tasks borne from moving home a…