The Year of Living Deeply 29: Specs

At a guess I’ve been wearing them somewhere around the last ten years. Not having inherited my father’s genius … More

Open letter to James Schuyler

Dear James (may I call you James?) Though it’s been a while (at least ten years, maybe more) it feels as … More

This being a Saturday in Lent, I am reblogging a favourite post from my archives. Here is one of … More

This is a Saturday in Lent, so I am reposting a favourite older post from my archives. See you on … More

I’m hoping that by the end of the week we may be nearer to a political solution to the national … More

Towards the end of her Greenbelt Festival poetry reading Q and A with Sasha Dugdale in 2017, Rebecca Goss said … More

When I began blogging almost ten years ago, I felt as though I had been let into the shiny, sugar-scented … More

I am half way down the path with a recycling bin, a podcast playing on my phone in my pocket, … More

We have all seen them. (Except maybe we do not see them. Maybe what they are doing is so normal … More

That isn’t me in the photo, though it could be. A bald man in vaguely sportif clothing trying to take an … More

Dear Facebook I thought I would write to let you know that after years of thinking (and even talking) … More

I am deeply honoured to have my poem When The Holy Spirit Danced With Me In My Kitchen used as a … More

‘What have you learned, do you think?’ the book says. ‘Do you mind, I’m trying to have a bath!’ ‘Now … More

Remember when you got the news of the accident- or the illness- in the life of someone more laced into … More

We are in Richard and Andi’s kitchen in their minuscule flat on the Wandsworth Road in the early nineties. Richard … More

Here is a story about a recent failure of mine. It all started with an idea, which I knew, just … More

These are some of the things I have learned during the recent industrial action taken by my union, the UCU, … More

There’s a problem with that title, isn’t there? While I have not been completely silent (fifteen blog posts at most? … More

There I was, minding my own business, trying to sort something out via email when it would have been easier … More

His real name was Crispin. Bespectacled, quiffed, bandy legged, Ken wore the aloof expression of the terminally lonely, a tilt of … More

A Tuesday, appropriately. (Tuesday being the day I was formally diagnosed.) Poetic, it strikes me now. But at the time, … More