Category: Bio
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20 years ago in Glasgow
More than 20 years ago, Glasgow had more than its fair share of comfortable coffee shops. Several were lodged in bookshops, and one in particular pulls it’s way across time, sliding it’s memory-laden charge along neurones and drops me into an overstuffed chair in a little alcove. I’ve got a small table next to me,…
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We value your memories.
Facebook shows me. Photos of old friends I’ve not seen in a decade, or more. It tells me people who don’t know me from Adam think I should go fund them. It applies a bolt of you know, those hormones that make you start, sweat, and feel like you’re not really here? Like you’re not…
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At least once, those bags contained pretty much everything I owned.
A friend of mine posted a photo: his bags, badly lit by soul-sucking strip lights of airports, train stations, and the night bus. It looks dreadful, and he’s jetlagged to shit, no doubt. He’s knackered, gone through customs, queues, ticketing and had eaten God-knows food instead of normal food. Part of me longs to feel…
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Just type: How I miss Ludlow
How I miss Ludlow. A brace of pheasants in the feather for less than a fiver – hanging from one of Ludlow’s five local butchers. Each dwelling in a building made by medieval tradesmen. Cobblestones, of course, usually damp, with overhanging late-medieval timbers just overhead. If you duck and twist to the market square, you can…
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I thought I’d be wearing a robe or something.
“So, this just swings over your jacket, and just hook this bit under your… where’s your tie?” The spindly man from Ede and Ravenscroft held some form of heavy, black wool cloth and cordage out to me. “I’m not wearing one. I don’t own one. Wait, do I need a tie to graduate? I thought…
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Cally Road’s king and I
Thing is, despite the many people, none gave me a second look. And, I’d never looked more guilty of breaking and entering in my life. “Ah, Zak!” I could hear the k in the way he said my name.“I forgot to put a microwave in your flat. You want one, yes?” “Actually, that’d be perfect.”…
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A spoon carver’s progress
There it is on my Facebook wall. 3 years ago today: I’m squirming at a photo of this spoon I carved from a bit of ash. Nothing about this piece is any good at all. If I were gracious, I’d call it asymmetrical. But, really, it’s lopsided. The walls are thick, clunky. Neither the shape…
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Moving to Caledonian Road
“No, it’s on Caledonian Road. It’s not got a number on it, you’ll have to find the shop that sells bongs, just up from the Tibetan Buddhist centre. If the head shop’s closed, look for the shutters with “Fuck you” spray-painted on them. It’s the blue door to the right. If you get to the…
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Some lessons learned from injury
“You’ve had an accident on your bike,” a familiar voice gave me something I knew. “You’re in the hospital,” and the familiarity fled with being awake. A few more dreams, and I slowly recognised myself lying in bed, surrounded by scrubs and unfortunate people. I pushed myself upright, and oddly felt the mattress move beyond…