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My stories

Return of the Sausage Roll Kid: Excerpt

The odd things that flutter into the wild and dyslexic mind of Jamie Spence in the intense seconds before he wakes. They always cause terror, sometimes genuine wonderment.

In Edinburgh

And there's a pink moon hanging over Waverley. Hide and seeking with a Scotched egg mist. The king of the castle has tumbled down, while dancing the Lothian twist.

On George Street

Earlier, and now. Inside, then outside, of this Edinburgh festival. In the steaming rain. You are my sunshine. The only sunshine. I’ll tell you this. Again and again.
Gold cherry

Latitude

I think of us fading. In that old house. Sometimes, listening to music, through silence. Van Morrison for me. A Prince for you. Tea, cigarettes. The occasional flicker.
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Inside

With you inside. This bed. Undressed. And the radio humming. We fit each other, as if new socks. Tight and taut. Our eyes then take a trip, coaxed by feel. We are nothing, but

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