farewell to foal

I read somewhere this week that grief is like moving towards a big lake and you skirt around its edges not knowing (but having a fair idea) how deep and cold and dark it’s going to be, so you don’t want to get in. Then you realise the lake is not a lake but an […]

a (brief) word about things

I feel anxious about beginnings. Only because once you’ve started you’re committed. I’m usually glad in the end I started, it’s just the usual thoughts of what if I fuck this up. All quite normal. I started a novel seven years ago. I’m still here. So is the novel. One day it might debut. Last […]