{funambulism}

So it’s Sunday morning, and this is the fourth weekend I’ve slept Saturday night in my clothes. I’m sitting in the Olde Pie Shoppe in Maritime Greenwich, eating a hearty 10 a.m. breakfast of ‘meat’ pie, mushy peas, limpid mash and gravy. It’s the cheapest meal I’ve found in London at £2, so I’m enjoying…

I hit twenty-six last week and, suddenly, I feel old. Really, old, depressed and tired. “My skin’s losing its texture, I’m putting on weight”; the complaints are real, but the motivation behind them is a maudlin introspection. All the usual complaints of middle age stem from a fear of death, or at least a fear…

Coolest Headshots NNDB is a big crock of nowt, but it has some of the best lists around.

I post up my short fiction on this blog here. It’s been a long time since I wrote any, so I’ve bunged a piece up this morning. Perhaps I should migrate to WordPress and take all these feeds and make a proper website…?

“What is…” the landlord pauses for dramatic effect and the pub catches its breath “…the capital of Tashkent?” There’s a furious rustling and whispering around the pub, a medley of “I know this” and “isn’t it?” The barman is polishing glasses and serving the lean-to regulars, all wannabe salty dogs well on the way to…