I rent three small rooms. The north sea rattles the windows. I hum a vague melody. I pocket paper and treasure found in the street. I count every magpie, last tally, they numbered 10. I cut hair.
These are a few of my favourite things:
Filling up notebooks and scissoring ‘zines.
Collage, pasta, ginger, broccoli (steamed).
Laughter, to-do lists and handwritten mail.
My Brompton, Nabokov, wild camping, Lou Reed.
Watering the houseplants, hiking and dreams.
Patti Smith’s ‘Horses’ & four-track recording.
Dylan, MF DOOM, charity shops, redrafting!
Tall stories, short stories, blueberries, cheese.
Frances Bellerby, Brian Eno, lighthouses, tea.
Low tide, real smiles, Tom Drury, Berlin.
Walt Whitman, Seinfeld, long baths and The Fall.
Arrested Development, Toast of London, beachcombing.
Scrambled eggs, slim women, Peter Cook and all my friends.
The truth is in the margins.
I hope this goes some way toward an introduction > Dead Fox In Mid Seventies.
Thank you so much for dropping by.
Please call again.
And keep on keeping on doing what you love