Interactive Fiction
You are standing in an open field west of a white house, with a boarded front door. There is a small mailbox here.
Recent Posts
Standing Behind Mary Berry
On our way home from parents evening at our youngest’s school yesterday evening, the clock struck “can’t be bothered to cook anything” o’clock, so we stopped...
Home Alone
It’s heading towards midnight, the children are fast asleep in bed, and I’m sitting alone in the study typing up a blog post on the old desktop PC. I can hea...
Withdrawing
I walked away from Tumblr yesterday. Perhaps permanently this time. After posting to a Tumblr account more or less consistently since the platform launched b...
Returning To The Bullet Journal
Throughout the last few months of last year I tried out using a Bullet Journal for day-to-day tasks, notes, and so on. By the end of the year I convinced mys...
A Day To Forget
The day started so well. Up early, showered, dressed, breakfast with the children, coffee. A few moments after our eldest left for college the wheels started...
Rabbit Holes
Today feels like it has slipped through my fingers. I rolled out of bed a minute or so after the radio alarm clock erupted into life at 7am, and stomped off ...
The Invention Of Lying
After playing a spirited game of “Settlers of Catan” with the children last night, I sat down late in the evening with my other half and said “shall we watch...
Disconnecting
I’m not sure when this feeling started - maybe a few days ago, or a few weeks, or even a few months ago. It feels like I’m slowly disconnecting from the soci...
Saturday
The day began at 7am when the radio alarm clock burst into life, filling the bedroom with the local radio station. Nobody actually staffs the radio station a...