Drowning in Metaphor
The river water was clear, clean and deep, the weather hot. Aberdeenshire was a gentle place that summer, the countryside of Monymusk, lush and green. I was staying with friends, of friends. They...
Writing
I Screech to a Halt at Lairg
I screech to a halt at Lairg because I’ve been starting to think about lunch or at the very least a tea break on my journey from Lochinver to Thurso and this new-build, glass and wood, loch-side...
Talking the Taboo
What we say. It goes well with those shoes. What we want to say but don’t. Are you going out in that? What we say. You’ll be fine. What we want to say but don’t. You know how you’re dying? What...
