The book is fifty blog posts old

The adventures of the book have now clocked up fifty blog posts. Here is a list of all of them, … More

But I’m a poet

The book is in its gardening clothes. ‘I’m going out,’ it says. ‘You’ve let the lawn go again.’ ‘You can’t … More

‘I don’t know if I can do this any more.’ ‘Do what?’ the book says. ‘This.’ ‘Sit around waiting for … More

‘Listening to the cricket again?’ says the book. ‘I think I’ll join you.’ ‘What do you mean, ‘again’?’ I say. … More

In the summer of 1986, when he was poetry editor of New Statesman and not long after Writing Home had … More

‘That thing you mentioned the other day,’ the book says. ‘Is it true?’ ‘What thing?’ I say. ‘About there being … More

‘How have you been?’ says the book. ‘Fine,’ I say. ‘You?’ ‘Tired,’ says the book. ‘I’m tired.’ ‘Me too,’ I … More

Jack Palance: Do you know what the secret of life is? Billy Crystal: No, what? Jack Palance: This [he … More

I think I am probably in love with silence, that other world. And that I write, in some way, to … More

I am delighted to have Slow Weather, a new poem published at London Grip New Poetry

On certain afternoons I am certain it has come back. A twinge in my right side, where the pain … More

I had begun the poem after work one day, on a pad of work-related notes. Get in, get out, I … More

When the Arvon student is put in posession of that creative self, which was hitherto inaccessible, two things, in particular, … More

I am returning to the pencil. The premise of which remark signifies consciousness that at some point I left the … More

Being together so much and talking so much and writing poems and showing them to each other so much … More

In 1991 we moved to a house in Brixton, south London. Of all our welcomes, that of our neighbour, … More

‘I’ve been at the field.’ This, spoken by one of the teachers on last week’s writing residential at Totleigh … More

I think I need the Other Writer much more than they need me. Off the top of my head I … More