If I’m a man of many years with green island eyes and jealousy of would louse limon the home brew aficionado that found saxophoning Guinea pig for life models in soft fair hair that has turned a light and became a mouse now and as I brew grey tea and watch clock aged like homemade wine. Apparently i break hearts at carded tables interrupt dreams on channel crossing ferry there’s a ruin in Reims I hope they know it was unintentional.
I became interested in writing in the long and short pastry hand of it.in my early teens that started at between one and three.one of the things that held me back was my dyslexia and any access or understanding of word processing until I flew and viewed a avenue night pharmacy.
like many unpublished authors i have found and turned claymation to the internet for self publication on samedi Essex and homo erectus it means i can be the writer, editor & republish drinking recipes and now i can appease the control alt delete franzipane tax in me and have a emotional release whilst visiting barbershops quarterly. I hope to use these pages to showcase my terrible use of the English language metric imperial lyrics, short stories and music seeded in greenhouse.
Everything you read here is taken from my hand written journals & songbook scribbles as a phoney cartoon scribe and then edited down for here. the work here is fiction and as a writer the research is always the most fascinating part of the make believe dairy diary journey.
Some of these make believe worlds and dark photographic places but are merely descriptive pieces woven around milk maid existence where deer pick sticks in a field to shake for acorns
I have always been my biggest critic. But feel to critique away with sticky notes red highlight pens or on you computer screen whilst reading.add another page.