Lunes’ Day…

Something had happened during the night. I had slept reasonably well and moderately badly. There was no storm outside. When I finally gave in to waking, I heard the sweet sounds of birds. My wife remained in the guise of sleep until I nudged her awake. "A cup of tea?" Some response came back throught... Continue Reading →

Of The North

Kevin’s expression spoke of his problems with sleep. He was ashen-faced and his eyes seemed to have sunk into his head a little too far. I greeted him with a Monday morning cheer that went some way to being a grunt. His response was even more dismal. “What’s wrong, Kevin?” Kevin is like me. We... Continue Reading →

Through The Eye Of A Needle

I cannot imagine immense wealth and while we talk in millions some of the truly rich use billions or trillions. Whilst I look at my pension thimble, these guys literally own the earth. And one name came out at me from history, Mansa Musa. Some big caravan. Although the non-tax paying Amazon founder Jeff Bezos... Continue Reading →

The Tatooist of Auschwitz

A Novel I have only just finished reading this and have gained something from its tale. There was a moment towards the end of the story that I started to feel the tears begin to well-up beneath my glasses. The spectacles are not rose-tinted, but are tainted by the passing years. This meant that I... Continue Reading →

What Gives The Right The Right?

I know that I am becoming intolerant of intolerance and it is starting to make my public edges fray. We live in a world of growing divisions and we listen to people exercising their rights to speak what they think. And we call this freedom of speech. And some of us call it hate speech.... Continue Reading →

Waking Up To Satanic Verses.

It's an odd thing to pop into ones head as the last of sleep drains away, but this morning I woke with a strange idea, religion. As with all strange ideas born from slumber, this one threatened to wash away before my true wakefulness had returned and so I tried to capture some of it... Continue Reading →

Why I Write. George Orwell

It communicates. From a very early age, perhaps the age of five or six, I knew that when I grew up I should be a writer. Between the ages of about seventeen and twenty-four I tried to abandon this idea, but I did so with the consciousness that I was outraging my true nature and... Continue Reading →

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