Prune-Ella, Queen of the Dessert Cynicism. A withering of the heart through repeated, constant, undeserved criticism of genuine and meritorious effort? Well not desolation or abuse that’s for sure; those give rise to defeat, hatred, uncomplicated self-destruction by the slow degrees of personal deconstruction. No, cynicism has a sense of survival to it, vengeance even. It is veiled power, happy to bide its time, content to stalk its target until the moment and the words are most apposite. Cynicism is miserable nastiness out in a posh frock and allowed to mix with its targets. Ah but bitching, that’s a much … Continue reading Recycled #4: Prunella – Queen of the Dessert
An inadvertant excercise in perspective writing Narrator ‘I hate it, it’s horrible!’ ’There’s nothing wrong with it. Get it down or there’s no afters’ ‘But Dad!’ ‘Sammy, I’m warning you!’ ‘Jason says it’s witches’ poo!’ ‘Samantha!’ (‘Samantha‘– that meant trouble) ’Finish it now or you go to your room with no TV, understand?’ Sammy’s mouth turned down at the edges. Her bottom lip started to protrude and quiver. Her shoulders started to chug up and down and her fists tightened on the Sunday tablecloth. She sucked in a huge breath though distress-flared nostrils and she howled. It was an eyes-screwed-up, face … Continue reading Recycled #3: The Marmite Trilogy
Up on Hazard Cat now. And you thought I just wrote about psychopaths – pah! I’m updating this post because, actually, the story is pretty much fact rather than fiction. I have kept cats for many years and once had 13 Persians, part Persians, and odd mogs at the same time. Many were related as I bred Persians – at least that was the idea, although Eric the Ever Ready, a beat up wonky eared tom who camped outside my house, had other ideas. Of all of those, the only two who showed any real bond was a mother and … Continue reading ‘When Glorious Eyes Close’
Letter to a child You are not my son. I am not your father. more Continue reading You are not my son. I am not your father.
New nano-fiction: ‘Tick tock, tick tock’ ‘Gimme the keys, fucking moron!’ here Continue reading Worth repeating..
No Place Like Home Maude ran a finger along the shelf ‘Nurse Simmons!’ she called out. ‘More attention to the dust and less to the new registrar if you don’t mind!’ continued Continue reading Maude: no place like home…
Not David Attenborough The ice rat scuffed at the frozen tundra, came up with something apparently satisfactory, and scampered off to its burrow. more Continue reading Not David Attenborough