Digging a hole. First you stamp the spade (though it might be a shovel, I’ve no idea) through the grass and it crunches deep through roots and past pebbles. There are worms, and halved worms. Running beasties flee and slitherers manouver moist muscle to escape. Stratum of soil from sandy brown-paper-bag through to brash orangey […]
103 words
Tired. You know how people who have been starved don’t ever have quite the same relationship with food? I don’t mean a bit peckish or even a few pounds lighter after a dirty weekend with the lurghy. No. Proper rib-counting, eye-sinking malnourisment that they didn’t ask for. These people will hoard tins and packets, just […]
5 Wednesday
Things there are no words for The exact exasperation of a fly buzz-by again. Jump-scare daylight after a matinee. The beat-beat calm before bad news bites. And when you see your son as a reasonable human being… and quite like him. Someone put sugar in the tea and didn’t tell you, or salt. Wondering […]
2 Sunday
Downpour What I love about rain is its sheer bloody toldyousoness its smell, of course the plash, pitter and plop its ’bow a smug waterproof coat strangers talking kaboom, flash thunder storm dry firesides wellington boots with fleecy linings its stopped play lushy swishy grass clouds smearing the overthere hills a single bulging orb […]
