I got as close as I could to him at the crucial point. The terminal zone. I recalled that as Henry hung up and mentioned his own parents. My father, although I’ve penned more than was strictly fair about his shortcomings, was a good friend to me, especially one-to-one. The…

It was a time period that was unfathomable to the living. The long breakfast of the soul-type event. We waited, Sink and I as the afterlife…

Direct Debit Keep it light. Good cliché. I thought about this as drizzle permeated layers of waterproof gear. It was a long hike with little purpose. The time passage between Giffnock and Paisley passed as quickly as my legs moved. It gave me plenty of time to reflect as the inky night…

Writing my name on the black water’s head The meeting. Eyes clenched shut seconds before he arrived. Dead eyes behind unimpressive sit-com sunglasses. A weird whistling sigh from his nostrils as he uttered a grudging welcome. It had been a long two year absence between conversational bouts. The bar was filling up and I suggested a coffee shop…

Useful obscenities I curse and swear heavily as I type. It’s a familiar ritual. After a short period of time, calm descends and I get on with the usual business of the hour. I don’t like hearing myself and I have recorded my voice to get some self-created feedback. I didn’t like…

Gently does it, lad The words leak out. I try to summon up the distaff side of my family. I always seemed to romanticise the Dexter, and always to my detriment. The charismatic often…

Within the bounds of old songs It was a painful nudge. I wanted to live within those bounds. All those hoary old lyrics reminding me of my mortality but the knowledge I’d never reach the summit that those that I gazed up to seemed to be on. It was only when I’d laid to rest many…

The drop zone The blackest hours were also the most fruitful. Struggle brought acceptance and a creative flow. Through the wooden blind slats, a sole beam of halogen reminds me I’m only fitfully asleep. The first beating was ritual as well as humiliating. As Sherlock Holmes in the human form of Basil Rathbone…

To turn out like Mont New light through a murky glass. Light that didn’t discriminate. Pure science, pure logic. Nick could barely see me through the glass door, but when I shouted through the letterbox, I was warmly welcomed, as per. His visual neuropathy had got pretty bad. …