This week I read at a Virtual Noir at the Bar, watched TV, Enjoyed great books, and reminisced on Festivals past. Pull up a chair. Pour a coffee. Join me.
In which I write about week eleventy-nine of Lockdown, Readings, new books, walking, and Squirrel Aggro.
I wrote about isolation, books, TV, crazy and how amazing it would be if Shonda Rhimes made a TV show of the book I’m reading.
Life as an author in the middle of lockdown.
I don’t have many photos of Debbie. That’s cos she filled my world in a period before we captured every single moment of our lives via smartphones; and that fact – that timing – breaks my fucking heart. I’d love a billion pointless duplications of Debbie on dropbox,...
The first novella in an age that I genuinely wished was a novel.