My spell as a chair at the bwf went as well as I could have hoped for. The first and only real difficulty was the elevated stage. Having the kilt on meant audience members potential for beneath tartan glimpses ran high. I apologised just in case. Everybody giggled. It was a starter for ten. It […]Read more "rare haggis sightings…"
It’s on innit? The writers festival’s started. Fully swinging. Not a single South Bank car park to be had. Writers and readers wandering round, bumping into each other, spilling words all over the place. If you see me say hullo. I’ll have my head down with the tunes on. I’m nervous see. I’m doing a wee […]Read more "A wee seat at the bwf"
Some days I just can’t pick things up. Not physically, mentally. Like if my brain had hands, they wouldn’t have fingers, they’d be hooved stumps. It’s because I’m oh so very busy. Writing, reading, teaching. It’s mental. Variety is the spice of life, but too many flavours can turn the soup to paste. Which is […]Read more "hands like a buffalo’s hooves"