My mother taught me to drink it by the gallon, a flood of dirty brown the best accompaniment to tiredness boredom grief conversation the passage of time.   In case of shock, add sugar.   While some warm the pot and measure the leaves, I dunk bags bought by the hundred in a box of … More Tea

Dear Mr Hemingway

‘There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at your typewriter and bleed.’ Ernest Hemingway.   I try for blood but sometimes I can’t find the vein. Or I nick something and ooze green, as though I am descended of insect-kind and not a person at all. Some days writing is more … More Dear Mr Hemingway