Tag Archives: Illustration

My October Symphony, Part 7 – Hoovering Up Shadows

I do not hear the delivery man over the noise of the vacuum cleaner, but over the past year he’s become a usefully persistent knocker so eventually I do. I make a joke; I say: ‘sorry, I was hoovering. Once … Continue reading

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These Little Houses

… happened in June.

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How Did I Get Here?

Exhibition, of a sort, coming up. I was thinking how the last time I showed work – like a show with its own poster and a degree of outlay – was, uh, way back in 1990. Imagine that. You weren’t … Continue reading

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Hedge Hopping

Sometimes in the evenings when we’re knackered, I like to introduce some horrid thought. Like, hey, fancy popping into town? Wanna go catch last orders? Go for a walk? It’s all for the exquisiteness of opposites. That none of these … Continue reading

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My October Symphony, Part 6 – Fishing with Dad

Dad, with some coaxing, sits down next to me on the bench outside his room. Shoulder to shoulder, the both of us facing the fence, beyond which the motorway sounds like the ocean. The cubes of beige cake on the … Continue reading

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Post from the Var Side, 2017 – Islands

It’s definitely brightening up, I say. And then the real rain sets in. The new balcony view reminds (without sun), of a view from old Lantao – or the ferry bound for there, at least – with le Brusc and … Continue reading

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Yellow Morning

As quietly I spoon the coffee into the little basket, I hear the rain. On the big green parasol. All the leaves are friendly. It’s a yellow morning. Sometimes the cat wants to come inside, decisively, in rain like this. … Continue reading

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Rhubarb for the People

I was planning a post about re-joining our local library – and what I found in there – but I’m gonna knock that over into the next one. Because mainly here’s a thing I made called Rhubarb for the People. … Continue reading

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The Swan, the Shoes

The man who comes to do our trees and hedges, neatly, roughly once a year, is telling me about one of his daughters. Coming up to 48, she’d never been abroad. And so for that birthday (this was just last … Continue reading

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In Hong Kong is Celadon

National Poetry Day, it is. I thought I’d give air, finally, to a thing I wrote a quarter of a century ago (me, now tamping tobacco into my pipe). March 1991 to be precise. Enough that the piece has stayed with … Continue reading

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