1986. Ahm Maradona. King of the two-a-side village derbies. Ah hear the crowd in my head. You should see the way ah dance through the defence, past daft Gassy, so wiry you could tie a string from his lugs to his toes and fire arrows at the seagulls (hair trigger mental too – hit his […] Read More →
Tuesday night saw the launch of A Private Haunting at the fantastic Blackwell’s Bookshop in Oxford. More than fifty people came down to hear me read from the novel and ramble on about my writing. I was joined in conversation by Fiona McPherson, Senior Editor on the Oxford English Dictionary, who asked some insightful questions, […] Read More →
The pull of the Himalayas, the Alps, high peaks of all the world, I get it. It’s the all-conquering stuff I don’t. Man against nature. A world for wannabe Bears. Grylls that is. What a weird conceit. Imagine telling Basho you’d ‘conquered’ a mountain. A roar of laughter, sake everywhere. Or John Muir. Biting his […] Read More →
She went there afterwards. Hours by plane and train and boat. At the quayside, a fat man waited to get on the ferry back to the mainland. A t-shirt that said ‘I Eat Lions’, reading a book called ‘The Stainless Steel Rat’. He was an outrage waiting to happen. Here in this village on the […] Read More →