Author Archives: Reed
I wrote this three years ago – look, you can see it in situ here. It’s not bad. Blimey. OK, it’s not Wallace Stevens, but I, astonishingly, don’t hate it. So you’ll have to read it again yourselves. I insist. … Continue reading
It has been snowing, here in the Southern end of Blighty. A mere couplet of inches, and yet the public transport system is staggering about in hiccups (it took me more than two hours to get to work yesterday morning, … Continue reading
Well well well. I posted every day for a month. [Was there a point to this? - Ed.] Now you come to mention it, I’m not to sure there was.
It’s supposed to snow tonight. If it does, getting to work tomorrow will be even more of an arse than usual, as public transport in this country Does Not Do Snow. Last winter, the train-tracks points froze and the tube-lines … Continue reading
In this modern world, I am anachronistic. Or do I mean anachreontic? [Probably not - Ed.] I still have to get S to set the – oh, what do you call it? The box with the hard-disc in that watches … Continue reading
It’s Saturday evening, and I am sprawled in an armchair, watching cheesery and nonsense on the television, and already having oh-God-it’s-Monday-on-Monday anxst. Because on Monday I will have to get out of bed when the alarm goes off, and when … Continue reading
I was pootling about the internets, as you do, looking for decent sonnets written after 1700 [as you do - Ed.], and I found Edna St. Vincent Millay. Why did no one tell me about Edna St. Vincent Millay before? … Continue reading
You are quite right. Last night’s post was unforgivable. Next time it’s all gone like that, I shan’t post at all, OK? OK. Where were we? I am writing a story. I have written pages and pages and pages, and … Continue reading
Please excuse lack of posting today. It’s someone important’s birthday and I shall be spending the evening getting him roaring drunk.