I come from the north, From grey harling, drizzled crags and scree. Dandelion and burdock. Engage low gear now. Bacon for breakfast. Breaking in your boots. Passing places and bloody tourists. The library’s parquet gleam. Peewits and feral cats. Toasted arse against the Aga. Wellies and broken veins. Creosote on the fence. Shirt […]
The best blogs are about making you feel that you aren’t alone in your secret little shame. You read them to feel better about feeding your children toast three times a day, cleaning your bathroom with your dirty knickers or fancying Tyrion Lannister. That kind of thing. This one’s about the books you pretend to […]
Is it possible to love and hate a book in equal measure? After raving at length, the Panther insisted I read The Road by Cormac McCarthy. So, in spite of Terry Pratchett and because of Philip Pullman, I picked up the volume. Hopes weren’t high, it has to be said. A “post-apocalyptic fight for survival” […]
I see you, teenage child. With your swagger and secrets. Sticking your flag in new territories. Of course, I’m boring. Show me a mother who isn’t. It’s our gift. To you. A life solidified – a crash mat made of person. Ready for your ungrateful bounce.
OK, I am not as on track with the Slacker’s Guide than I’d hoped to be. In the same way that only getting half-way up a hill twice does not equal having bagged a Munro, half of Moby Dick plus half of Anna Karenina don’t equal two properly ticked off classics. Ho hum. Maybe […]