Tales From The Town #62: Weather Report

There was rain enough for weeks in little more than an hour. Lightning struck the grass until half the lawn was made of glass. The wind blew the salt off the sea straight into your eyes, then blew the tears in your eyes straight back out over the ocean.

None of this, of course, had anything to do with the arrival of the lodger. None of this had anything to do with anything except itself. But still it was talked about for quite some time after as if perhaps it did.



1. Written on May 11th, 2022

Tales From The Town: Pocket Editions (#13-15)

Some more Pocket Tales, to go with this year’s Pocket Tales (#10-#12), and last year’s Pocket Tales (#1-#4 / #5-#9).

Pocket Tales #13


It filled the air we breathed and the lungs we breathed it with.


It filled the air we breathed and the lungs we breathed it with.


It filled the air we breathed and the lungs we breathed it with.

The Fog Of Existence

It was everywhere
in everything there ever was

Pocket Tales #14


They stepped over it as if it wasn’t there.


Only the bravest dared to cross.


You could feel gravity here as if it was a real thing pulling you down in its grip.

A Dream Of The Moon Never Disappoints

There is enough there for everyone to see and do.

Pocket Tales #15 (Poetry Edition)

A Poem For The Cat

Why is she
so perfect
so perfectly unconcerned
with me?

A Poem For The Fish

Little fish
Big Fish
Swimming in a circle
in the corner of the room

Big Fish
Little Fish
Glowing in the gloom

A Poem For The Spider

All her spidery children
spread across the ceiling
Does she even remember them
or know what they’re feeling
Now they’ve left her web
for somewhere more appealing

A Poem For Mum

She doesn’t get angry
because she’s too sad
If only we were good
Instead of so bad

A Poem For Dad

He dreams of the sky
He dreams of the sea
He dreams of the mermaid
He dreams he was free
I think he’s forgotten
Who he used to be.

A Poem For The House

I can feel it
Is it dreaming
through me

I can feel it
Almost like a tree

Ae we the birds
in its branches?
Or its fruits
and its seeds?

A Poem For Me

Its okay
to not be seen

Its okay
to not be seen



1. Made between June 9th and June 12th, 2022

Tales From The Town: Pocket Editions (#10-#12)

Some more Pocket Tales, to go with last year’s Pocket Tales (#1-#4 / #5-#9).

Pocket Tales #10

The Kite

It is forbidden to speak of the kite anymore. It is mourned in silence.


He could not get back up no matter how hard he tried. He pretended instead that he was where he wanted to be.

Pocket Tales #11

(Even the crabs were sunburned)


The gravestone records the beginning and the end. What occurred in the moments between is of no lasting interest to history.


They rolled plates down the hill. There was nothing else to do.

Treasure Trove

No one knew it was there, or what it was. The grass had grown long around it. One day perhaps it would be found.

Pocket Tales #12


They hang from the trees and keep the fairies at bay.


The only known thing of infinite length is an unspooled taped unwinding in the breeze.


They had been listened to so often the sound had worn away. But in our minds we remembered.


1. Made between June 9th and June 12th, 2022
2. Although the words for Gravestone and Tradition come from earlier in the year.
3. Maybe even last year.
4. Also I don’t know why I forgot to do the middle pages in Pocket Tales #12
5. But I did
6. So that one’s shorter
7. Sorry

The Strange Folk

The pond at the end of my garden is a portal to another world.

I’ve seen them, the strange folk, climb into it at night, slip down deeper than they should, until they’re entirely submerged. I’ve waited for them to rise again, exploding up out of the depths in an ecstasy of joy, relief, taking in great chest bursting gulps of air, masses of water and moss and lily pads and water weeds dripping from their hair.

But they never do. The strange folk slip slowly in, do not ever return. Wherever it is it leads, this portal, it’s entrance only.

Maybe they emerge in other ponds, in other gardens, feet first, like spiders from a hole. Maybe they turn into fish, snails, tadpoles, toads. Maybe they just dissolve, become ripples on the surface, rainbows, moonbeams, seafoam, salt.

I still don’t know who the strange folk are, why they come here late at night, creeping between the trees to bathe in our pond. Where are they from? Why are there so many of them? Don’t they have anywhere else to go?

And will they take me with them, if I ask, take me with them to wherever it is they go.



1. Written on June 13th, 2022

Tales From The Town #61: Explanations Of Necessities

“But why, Mum?”

“What’s he doing here?”

“He’s the new lodger,” Agnes explained. “He’s moving into the new rooms.”

“We don’t want him.”

“We don’t need him.”

“But we do need his money,” Agnes said. “It’s sad but it’s true. Feeding all you kids doesn’t come cheap.”

“We aren’t that expensive!”

“We barely eat a thing!”

“Daniel eats nothing at all!”

“I eat apples from the apple tree,” Daniel said. “And drink water from the tap.”

“And ice creams from the ice cream van,” said Agnes, sighing slightly. “I’m sorry everyone, but we really do need a new lodger now Oya’s moved in with Anna.”

“But she hasn’t moved out!”

“She’s just moved upstairs!”

“I know, I know,” said Agnes. “But it’s not like I can continue charging them both now they share a single room, is it?”

“You could!” Claire said. “I would.”

“It just wouldn’t be fair,” said Agnes.

“Who cares about fair!” Claire grumped. “I hate him!”

“You hardly know him, Claire,” Agnes said. “How can you hate him?”

“He called me fat!”

“He did not,” Ethel said.

“He did!”


“He said you were a big girl,” Tina said. “I was there.”

“We were all there,” Ethel said. “Even Mum!”

“See!” Claire said. “It’s the same thing. I told you!”

“That’s not the same thing, Claire,” Agnes said. “I’m sure he was just trying to be nice.”

“He’s not nice at all,” Claire said. “He’s creepy. I don’t like his eyes. Or his smile. Or his name.”

“He’s got eyes like blueberry pies,” Daniel said.

“What’s wrong with his name?” Agnes said. “Christopher’s a nice name.”

“He’s got a name like a videogame,” Daniel suggested. It was the best he could do.

“It’s not even a little bit nice!” Claire said. “It’s an awful name and I hate it!”

“He’s got smiles like a crocodile’s!” Daniel added for good measure.

“No he doesn’t,” Claire said, spinning right round so she could refute Daniel’s allegations head on. “If he had a smile like a crocodile his smile would be nice and I’d like him but his smile is awful and I hate him so he doesn’t have a smile like a crocodile AT ALL.”

“Claire what’s gotten into you?” Agnes asked. “He’s not even moved in yet. You probably won’t even have to see him when he does. He’s very busy. He works in the city, you know?”

“Well maybe he should stay there!” Claire shouted, before suddenly slumping down on the settee.

It was all too much for her. She pulled a hairbrush out of her pocket and started running it furiously through her hair in an attempt to calm down. The cat pawed at her knees, then climbed up her leggings like they were a ladder. Everyone else drifted from the room like clouds.



1. Written on May 9th, 2022