• The Hemingway Day.
  • The Hemingway Day. Surface.

    So far in glorious London we have enjoyed about three days of summer. Today is the fourth. The sun is shining, the children are shrieking outside, my office fan is blowing hot air in circles, the inebriated are out early… and isn’t it just marvellous? Here’s The Hemingway Day. Surface. Suede and water never did mix.

  • The Hemingway Day.
  • The Hemingway Day. Quiet Please.

    Apologies if the below contains any mumbles, bad grammar or is just bad writing. Blame it on the tennis-man. I have everything crossed for Roger Federer to win today, although I find myself in times of trouble watching this current match, my nerves just don’t contain enough steel. I managed to clinch a pair of the illustrious, unobtainable […]

  • Fiction.
  • Fool.

    I have penned a little fool inspired story in honour of April the 1st. Here’s hoping you haven’t been subject to too many mischievous escapades this morning… Fool. Him:  The tears loomed above her eyelashes, threatening to slither down her cheeks at any moment. With a hand clutching at her stomach, she signalled for me to […]

  • The Hemingway Day.
  • He's Alive.

    It’s a very merry Christmas from me and my festive happy house guest, and the last of this year’s The Hemingway Day flash fiction… He’s alive.     Their bodies recoiled, their eyes bulging.   Thanks to the Daily Post for the photo prompt “yellow”, which in my view, is just gold with less regal dripping.

  • Monday Muse.
  • Vampire.

      Vampire. My trainers were the whitest of white. Blobs of blood plummeted onto the milky leather, instantly at odds with their crisp colour. My foot had slipped along the metal pole where the paint was cracked and flakes of rusty brown were starting to take ownership. On the way down my two front teeth […]