Dalkeith Country Park is located at the south east edge of Edinburgh. I went there yesterday to walk in an ancient oak wood, hunkered down between the meeting of the North and South Esk Rivers. Weather and rain had undone the wood; it was resting, bare, and the mud underfoot was glorious. Even suitably booted, … Continue reading Weather and Rain Have Undone It Again
‘You need a man.’ I looked M. up and down before I told her, but her want of a man was obvious, and urgent. ‘Preferably a well-proportioned one.’ M. looked around the shop surreptitiously, as though preparing to sneak up on one, pounce and grab him. But this was a man-free shop. The two women … Continue reading Coats On
From my seat at the café window, tucked into the bend in a side street off Leith Walk, I have an uninterrupted view onto the main thoroughfare. The Walk has double lanes of traffic, cycle paths, and a broad pavement. It’s a route through which most Edinburgh residents, at some stage of the year, will … Continue reading Digging
December seems to be a month crammed with responsibility and obligation, assignments and commitments causing us to accelerate as we approach year end. This runs contrary to instinct, which would have us slow down, recline into the depths of the year and let ourselves ape nature in coming to rest like the dried-out teasel heads … Continue reading Stillness
Sometimes quoted as, ‘murder your darlings’ other times as, ‘kill your darlings’ -- whatever your preference, the advice amounts to the same thing: don’t scrimp when it comes to editing. Take to your writing with a red pen and the eye of Marie Kondo going through kitchen cupboards that haven’t been reviewed in a decade, … Continue reading Murder Your Darlings
I was indulging in my favourite pastime of the season, which is to moan about the short, dark days, when A. modified my melancholy. ‘The darkness gives you more time to be creative,’ she suggested, ‘for example, I’m feeling a jumper coming on.’ A. is a knitter. ‘New pattern or new wool?’ I asked. Maybe … Continue reading Homemade
There is a character in the comedy series Derry Girls called Uncle Colm who, as they might say in Derry, is wild fond of the sound of his own voice. You see, Uncle Colm maunders on. He rattles away, talking in that aimless, vague, drifting manner that begets a maunderer. Not that Uncle Colm is … Continue reading Maundering On
Paradox: a logical statement that seems to contradict itself; something that is not what it seems. My dad taught me what it was by having me learn this one: ‘The code of the road is a paradox quite, if you keep to the left you are sure to be right.’ It doesn’t work in America. … Continue reading Paradox
I stood on the edge of a carpet of decaying roses in the middle of July of this year, which was, I think, around six weeks after they had been laid down. What amazed me was how long the flowers were lasting; that is to say, how they were still offering something to be enjoyed … Continue reading Decay
Who would you burn as an effigy and why? The question was posed at a writing workshop I attended the other day and we were supposed to use it as a prompt. I suppose it was meant in a light-hearted way, after all, that evening was bonfire night. I told them wouldn’t burn any effigy. … Continue reading Burning Effigies
