Category Archives: Fiction
Hei Hei Hay!
It’s Hay Festival again. I won’t go droning on and on with the usual bountiful enthusiams. Suffice to say that it’s worth an annual pilgrimage even if you’re only slightly interested in books, book people, films, culture, hedonism and breathtakingly … Continue reading
Am I the only one who has geological drawers? I don’t mean weighed down with rocks, maybe a chunk of gneiss, a spiky bit of rose quartz or a flaky slice of slate complete with fossil fern. What I mean … Continue reading
A quick spin around Cheltenham Lit Fest
My favourite TV cook, Keith Floyd used to ask cameraman Clive to have a quick spin around the ingredients, so here’s my attempt, for anyone who has never been, at a quick spin around Cheltenham Festival of Literature. It’s a … Continue reading
A load of crystal balls?
Interesting piece in the Guardian about Sally Morgan the well-known psychic. I refer you to this blog The Guardian piece reveals an interesting new facet to Sally’s performance. No wonder people are so emotionally moved, crying real tears, believing absolutely … Continue reading
To hug or not to hug, that is the question
I shook hands with the salesman in the Comet shop today. He’d just thrown two free knobbly plastic balls in with the price of my new tumble dryer. They would have been a tenner! “Pardon?” I said “You’re telling me … Continue reading
Short story – the unknown soldier
If he could tell that the young girl with the fat baby in the blue snowsuit wasn’t interested, it didn’t matter. Not that day, not any day really. Bert was an effusive sort of chap; never used three words where … Continue reading
Halloween short story
My eyes play tricks on me again. It’s not the first time this has happened but I don’t have the medication with me. When I stumbled a man and woman came to help me. As I sit here now on … Continue reading
Boy racer – flash fiction
It was a miracle that Tom remembered anything, really. But he did remember stopping at the top of Twmbarlwm Tump, heart thumping against his chest, thighs and calves burning red-hot from the long ascent. Dad couldn’t accuse him of not … Continue reading
Flash fiction – Why didn’t you ring?
She opens the heavy door of the Cotswold manor house, recognising him with mild surprise. Something about the way her hair is clipped back from her face reminds him of the woman at the supermarket checkout whose dark,lively eyes connected … Continue reading