The clouds are edged with gold as if someone has drawn around them with a highlighter pen, and in between them great gaping tears in the fabric with soft corners where the evening sun shines through, a portal to another place floating away from me inch by inch. I wish I could paint so I… Continue reading Clouds

Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood

Oryx and Crake. A strange title, right? It sounds like it’s from a made up language, originating on some distant planet in the far reaches of the galaxy. The sense of oddness only intensifies when you open the book and start reading about a strange being named Snowman, seemingly marooned on a desert island in… Continue reading Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood


There’s a long enduring stereotype that Americans don’t get irony. Like all sweeping generalisations this is quite obviously false and borderline insulting, but in my opinion, there is something to this that speaks for a real difference between the type of comedy that can be found on British television as opposed to American. I’ve long… Continue reading Uncle