Monday, April 13, 2015


A view that stretches maybe ten miles. Builders hammering on a nearby roof, their tinny radio singing something. It’s April, and sunny at last. In my head upcoming trips to Wales, Burnley and York, and why don’t I know the names of even the commonest birds, and when am I going to plant those wildflower seeds my son gave me for Christmas, and will they flower, and those friends I’m in danger of losing touch with, what am I going to do about that? Sipping tea. Everyone else has gone on a bike-ride, the roofers are hammering like someone knocking on a door, the view is unwinding into hazy distance, and it’s sunny at last.


Tom Saunders said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Tom Saunders said...

Second attempt at a comment.

Well, I'm an old friend you've lost touch with. We're now living in Norfolk in an old mill. Nothing much happening writing-wise. Two collections of short stories, a novel and a poetry collection gathering dust in cupboard and on Kindle. Flogging a dead nag scenario.


Mark Illis said...

Norfolk - that's the other place I could imagine living. Sorry about the dead nag - what can you do? As long as you enjoy it, keep flogging ...

Tom Saunders said...

Yeah, it's nice here. My oldest friend Richard is just over in Cambridgeshire and Glenn is an hour away. Glenn's bought a flat in Berlin. I think he'll be renting it out a good deal of the time. Only one bedroom, however.

I think I've retired from writing, but you never know something might occur to me. There's plenty of stuff for people to read if they're crazy enough to want to. There's another collection of stories nearly complete, but it could be posthumous publication. I'm quite happy being an old age pensioner at the moment. Never actually enjoyed the process of writing, more the "having written" thing. I've got a fabulous office at the top of the windmill, too, a real Ivory tower.

Anyway, hope you and the family are well. More power to your elbows.