Starlight Conversation.

They sat on the doorstep at the back of the flats every evening filling the jam jar ashtray and trading hushed nothings. Autumn, she sat with her knees drawn and clasped. She stretched her legs long before her, silk pouring from them, on June evenings such as this one. They had been joined by another … Continue reading Starlight Conversation.

Fleet Circles.

The chilled yellow interior of the fridge in the one bulb backroom of the frozen pet food shop made him wince. Nick sniffed the milk. He sluiced the tea ringed mugs under the cold tap, wiping the rims with a thumbed and fingered tea towel. The Chelsea one with its chipped lip and sepia rings. … Continue reading Fleet Circles.

Goat Couture.

Dave Seven handcrafted jewellery; unusual one-offs, accessories, such as pelt skull caps, kid suede mitts and gaiters; belts, tan leather drawstring purses - and pretty, iridescent feathered dreamcatchers that snared both dawn and dusk sunlight and dust breeze at the window, as well as the unwanted, darker elements of slumber. It was a skill he … Continue reading Goat Couture.

The Orwell Fiction.

The summer he left school, Nick worked Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays at his uncle’s pet food shop in Middleton, the main thrust of which was chopping and bagging frozen blocks of tripe. Of an evening he walked the woods behind his parents' house for an hour with a German Shepherd who answered to the name of … Continue reading The Orwell Fiction.