THE SMALL THINGS

At last, my mother is home from the hospital. I lie on her bed and talk of Michael Scudamore, who has died. ‘I can see him now,’ says my mot...

I have that undefended, deflated feeling which comes after too much excitement. It is like a child going to a party. You eat too much chocol...

Warning: this is crazy long. It also involves an awful lot of horse. It’s a story I really wanted to tell, and it has taken many, many words...

I need to do some crowd-sourcing for one of the secret projects. Even though they have both now been read and green-lit by the agent, they s...

As I am taking the red mare to the village on Wednesday for her first visit to the old people’s home, I am spending a lot of extra time work...

A few days ago I wrote that the only thing to do in the face of the madness of the world is to find your one small thing which adds to the s...

I am in a rage today. I have no idea why. There is something about which I am furious and I have no idea what it is. The red mist is swirlin...

Sun shining; red mare worked; breakfast for lovely stepfather cooked; 1746 words of book written; HorseBack work done. My mum is on the mend...

Author’s note: This is for the horsey ones. To the other ones I apologise and say please do come back tomorrow. It does contain some human ...

A long time ago, I wanted to write a book called something like: The Ordinary Griefs. I was interested in how people dealt with all the expe...