Next-door’s back fence has blown down and because the house is empty the council haven't been around to fix it, despite me telling them. With the fence down I can see more of the path that runs through the estate and more of the people on it. Dog walkers throwing sticks, some failing to pick…
It is that time of year again. Not the time of year when the grass is too soggy to hold my wheelchair and I am relegated to the confines of the path, - that came a few weeks ago. (Still it helps me avoid the dog-walking mafia.) No, I am talking about apple season. This…
There is a silent but deadly war occurring in my garden. Provisions have been procured, barricades have been built and blockades are at the ready. What is this new global terror I hear you ask? What is the unending conflict? I am at war with the neighbourhood cats. I should point out here that I…
I meet her down the bottom of the alley. Litter needs picking again. She’s off to get her paper, leaning on her stick, dodging curled lottery tickets and discarded masks. She’s a bit Daily Mail, if you know what I mean but she’s always out in her garden. Her roses are stunning, not a black…
I have become a writing bore. Of course, I was boring before writing, I’ve just changed the subject. All I can talk about is writing, and the novel, oh and name-dropping Michael Sheen at the snarky woman who said she was glad they had special writing awards for ‘people like me.’ The lovely people in…
Bordering Grey 