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- Walking Covehithe July 9, 2019
- How Far Does The Hand Reach? Botanical Signatures Textile Art Exhibition, Norwich, England, July 18-20 2019 July 8, 2019
- Little Maps of Trees is at The Other Art Fair London July 1, 2019
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- Eight Years Blogging – Writing Chaos into order from the Forest of Souls: Part I May 19, 2019
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Tag Archives: Constructive Criticism
His parents didn’t come to the wedding; their gift a garish orange dinner service – cheap fairground prize won long ago.
“Carnival glass is collectable these days,” Adi had said, generously, adding,“they’ll come round. Patience.” Continue reading
Parked and Hitched
“Driver parked the truck and vanished.”
“Abducted by aliens.”
We roared with laughter. The waitress glared.
“My ancestor ran off to California – gold rush era. Just disappeared.” Continue reading
I went travelling. The Grand Tour, they called it. All the rich young men went and marvelled at ruins, as fashion dictated. Continue reading
A goat took up residence in a corner.
“He can’t live here.”
“His belly’ll tell him.”
Press came; religious groups offering garlands, money. Animal militants smashed windows. Continue reading
The Radical Leap
We trained the dog to keep guard in the tree. He sensed their return – in advance even of me. His barking gave us time to put Sammie’s security in place. Continue reading
La Vie en Bleue
“What’s that fish, mommy?”
I was observing, through the blue bits of the glass dolphin embedded in the door, the rippling apartment building opposite.
“It’s a dolphin. Dolphins aren’t fish.”
“Is a fish!”
At the bottom of the building, red plastic traffic cones contorted. Continue reading
“Two blokes fighting and a statue?”
“Read the handouts before the lectures! Watch!” Hilda whispered.
Rich watched. One of the blokes bludgeoned the other.
The lights went up in the auditorium.
Professor Pound rounded on Rich. “Enlighten us, do, on the relationship between the film and Imagism.”
Sarcastic old git! Rich peered short-sightedly – wanting to impress Hilda, he’d left off his specs. “Matthew:18.9” Continue reading
Kiss an Angel Good Morning
“Darlin’! I’m just a hunka burning love for you this mornin’.”
“… sure about hunk?”
“… always joshing.”
“… new keyboard’s arrived. Oops! … ring back?”
“Thing’s just switched itself on.”
“It can do that?”
“It’s playing a tune.”
Pre-programmed freebies, she supposed – at first. She picked up the phone; after – trembling – her car keys. Continue reading