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Reading Lord Peter Wimsey while listening to Stephen Fry reading Sherlock Holmes. You can have too much of good thing.

The book wins.

name to follow

I struggled with my soprano saxophone, Junko, so in the end I sold her.

Anyhow, a few months passed and I thought I’d get another one, and a new mouthpiece. Not sure of its name yet, but I tried him/her out tonight for the first time, and it was fun.

It’s much easier to play alto or tenor, but soprano is the one.

Junko: ex-sax.

Steve Lacy

I asked my girl Ruthie to do a taste test of my three favourite soprano saxophonists, to see which one she liked best.

So I started with Froy Aagre, who has been playing some wonderful choral stuff the last few years.

Then I then played some Branford Marsalis, who I think is probably the best ever technician of soprano sax, and who plays the most wonderful melodies.

Followed, finally, by Steve Lacy, who carried a lone flag for soprano sax for many many years.

‘That one’ she said, as soon as I began playing Steve Lacy, adding, ‘he’s got more.’

And she’s right. He’s got more.



There are stories I need to complete.

Better start.





They say it’s calmest in the eye of the storm. I dunno, but I’m feeling pretty chilled at the moment. Maybe, in a short while, I’ll be hurled outwards by some centrifugal force.

Urban Pastoral: free download

“a literary punch in the throat’ it says on the blurb.

Free download 20-24 September. Clink image for link, or search for it on Amazon.

Text Transformations: free download

A selection of well known stories retold and reimagined. Free download 14-18 September.

Click image for link:

short cut

I’m not one for ‘inspirational’ quotes, though they can be useful as a spark to light a fire, but I heard Peter Thiel say something along the lines of, ‘short cuts are good, but in a world where everyone is taking short cuts, perhaps you should consider taking the proper route.’

I tend to agree.

it’ll do til the mess gets here


September sends me back to my (very part-time) day job, but it means I’m getting up early again, writing again, though the writing itself is mostly junk. Maybe when I’ve thrown enough junk onto the page I might be able to grapple it into some sort of coherent shape.

Or maybe not. It doesn’t matter.

The thing is, I’m writing again.



Still my favourite line:

He went likeĀ that,” Spade said, “like a fist when you open your hand,”



The Flitcraft Parable, from the novel The Maltese Falcon, by Dashiell Hammett.