Nothing to Do in August

This is the micro-fiction (very short story) I entered for the Stirling Prize. I was really pleased to get third place and to be included in the anthology coming at the end of the year. I was also delighted with the judge, novelist Lesley Glaister's comments: "Some beautifully observed detail in this story which really captures... Continue Reading →

Bees

It is a sad time. A time known to most of us in one way or another, of saying goodbye. It helps to think with words and pictures, and perhaps, later, to elaborate. 

Ravelling

My grandfather died of a broken heart six weeks after my grandmother. He had not expected to live without her, instead had meticulously planned for her comfort and security on what seemed to him to be the predictable certainty of his own death from a heart attack. But cancer doesn’t like predictions. Cancer, with its... Continue Reading →

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