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The Way Publishing Works
(Sorry for the three posts in as many days. I promise I'll calm it down a bit after this.)
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The Lost Valley
A very short account of a place where I used to try to live
More Corbel
A Very Pagan Walk And The Unavoidable Interface Between Walking And Writing
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My Dad And The Toad In His Shoe
Subscribe now It was 2011 and I had driven up from Norfolk to Nottinghamshire to see my mum and dad. Not long after I arrived, my dad took me to one side. “TOM, CAN I HAVE A WORD?” he said. When my dad says, “TOM, CAN I HAVE A WORD?
Some Photos From My Family's Archive And The Cult Low Budget Horror Films They Became
Dragon Cottage (1978) Bored out of their tiny brains after being transported against their will to a cottage on a Welsh mountainside by their vague and foppish parents, Philippa and her thug brother David find an old ouija board in a gap in a stone wall and begin to experiment
The Making Of A Cult Classic
RJ McKendree's amazing 'Wallflower' album, and how it became no longer fictional...
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Ghost
A brief record of a confusing and eerie thing that happened to me on a moor, from a couple of years ago
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Memories Of My Time Living In Edwardian Britain
(Reposted, free for everyone to read, because I prefer it that way.)
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Things About The Countryside That Make Me Angry, And Some Photographs I Have Taken Of Them
Subscribe now Autumn is possibly the time of year that makes me most furious when I’m in the countryside. It’s coming again soon, worse luck, and as always it will be disgusting and messy. Look at the state of this path I found a few autumns ago in
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Diary Notes, November, 2022: The Pleasure Garden
Subscribe now It is surprisingly easy to hypnotise yourself into a pre-World War II fantasy around here, especially at this tourism-unfriendly time of year. Most of the lanes behind our village don’t technically go anywhere, fading out to wild clematis and mud at lonely farms and dark cottages with
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Why I Am Here And Not There
Today I feel more tired of social media than ever before and more thankful for Substack than ever before. Yesterday I deleted my Twitter account, having been briefly drawn back there for the usual reason: the desire to give books I’ve put every ounce of myself into the best
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A Quarter Of A Hundred
On part-climbed mountains, two Welsh graves and the complex path to the 25th building I've resided in...