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#MyDayInBooks part 1

10/10/18 in 5 books Today is a day when many interesting books have crossed paths, and I thought I would share them. Book 1: Mary Ann Sate, Imbecile by Alice Jolly In the early hours, long after I had hoped to go to sleep, utterly gripped, I finished reading Mary Ann Sate, Imbecile. I was... Continue Reading →

The i word

Recently at Speakey Spokey in Brighton (a great night featuring readings from Colin Grant, Sea Sharp, Preti Taneja and music from Rachel Chinouriri) the audience were asked by poet Raymond Antrobus how many of them have more than one identity. No one raised their hands - apart from the people, mainly those on stage, who were... Continue Reading →

Come and meet my new book

I have just finished my second book. A well sifted draft. Parts have been ditched, pinched, pulled, turned around, thrown about, discarded and re-written and I think I am happy with it. I am deciding what to do about it, where to try and find a publishing home, and I will take a little break... Continue Reading →

My friend Roi

When I lived in Dunedin in the way-South of New Zealand, by a certain re-telling of the story, I could make the claim to have been a journalist. It’s definitely what Roi would have done in my position and as this post is about him, it’s what I am going to claim too. Just for... Continue Reading →

The Gallows Pole – review

The Gallows Pole by Benjamin Myers, published by Bluemoose Books. The Gallows Pole is rich, wet, dark, glittering. Words glimmer like the clippings of the coins, scattered in peat and moss, across a stony path. Like a bitter cross wind dragging leaves and hail, the land and the weather drive the story as much as... Continue Reading →

Golden

It’s my Dad’s birthday today, one year on, two days until the anniversary of his death. We will be drinking gin and tonics later. I love you Dad.

Lulu Allison, contemporary fiction author

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The heat keeps on, pressing my skin, the continuity is a reminder of where I was just a few days ago. Though time stretches strangely in strange times, makes it seem like I am remembering an epochal, ancient past or a current, fleeting dream.

I was revisiting a place I knew well, my childhood home was not three miles away. A landscape that I love: beech woods, fields and lanes, buildings of red brick and flint. Too many cars but enough space. I could walk once more in the woods, sheltering from the heat and collecting my thoughts. The woods have always been a place to think, to re-order myself. I get the same sense of grounded wonder in a cathedral, a similarly cool and elegantly spanned space. The beech woods and the cathedral create a modicum of awe that sets the tone, then leave us alone, content to let…

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