MARCH

Sunday 1st March 2026

Initially, I felt a bit anxious, but I’ve been doing okay without my mobile device. I won't see it again until I get home from Jen’s place tomorrow evening. We watched a good Victoria Wood documentary. Ate mixed veg with chicken nuggets. I'm very tired and should be in bed soon. OK. 11.33pm.

Monday 2nd March 2026

I haven't really missed not being online. I read a very short book about Bukowski. Most of it I knew from reading his work since I was nineteen years old. Got Greggs’ spicy wedges and a reduced to 72p Ginsters steak bake from Heron Foods. Went down to the post office at the other side of Gateshead with Jenni, then to an antique shop. They had a Toyah album, a Twisted Sister album, a big pile of ‘Vive le Rock’ magazines, and a pile of NMEs from the early eighties. I got one with Black Flag in it. Jenni bought three 12-inch storage boxes for fifteen quid. She cleaned them up pretty good. I had chicken curry, watched a couple of quiz shows, then headed home. Shaved, social media catch up. Pleased my workshop is already planned for tomorrow. 11.13pm.

Tuesday 3rd March 2026

Good workshop at Waddington Street Centre today. We did some adjective/noun/verb sentence stems. I read ‘In The Living Room of the Riled Poet’, which I wrote in 2010. We looked at ‘Write Anyplace’ by Natalie Goldberg. We talked about writer’s block. We used ‘How I Got Here’ as a simple five-minute prompt. Then I talked about morning pages. We read an essay called ‘Twelve Minutes’, then I set a stopwatch and told people to write what they liked. After readbacks, we wrote about what drives us. Tonight I went shopping. The buses were slow. Bed soon. 0K. 9.57pm.

Wednesday 4th March 2026

I've pretty much got a twenty-minute set for my headline gig at next Thursday’s King Ink in Sunderland. I've left a space for a new piece. I'm thinking of just taking a notebook and picking a work-in-progress on the day. I ran through the set a couple of times. I've done a bit of Poetry Jam publicity and spent about eight hours trawling through two years of Facebook posts for good photos to go in an album with poems for Mother's Day. I listened to Dog Man Star by Suede as I worked, then let Spotify do as it liked: Echo and the Bunnymen, Manic Street Preachers, House of Love, more Suede. Physio might have to wait until tomorrow. OK. 11.15pm.

Thursday 5th March 2026

Workmen were clattering and banging next door before eight. It didn't take them long to strip the roof. I edited a pile of photographs and hope to have a big album delivered from Amazon by tomorrow evening. I aim to be at Waddy on Saturday to do my printing. Poetry Jam was good. Lots of open floor readers. And great guests: Nicola Spain, Tony Gadd and Brogan Brannan. Waddy said it was okay not to return furniture to its regular layout after the gig, so I got home by eleven. It’s raining, and I've eaten too much cake. OK. 11.23pm.

Friday 6th March 2026

The workshop went well today. Ten people. Figurative language and more character sketches. The Furniture Game. We had a light-hearted beginning-middle-end mix-and-match story game to finish off. Had a chat with Alwyn Bathan afterwards about theatre and writing. Bought some food in Consett, then home to wait for the Amazon delivery. I unboxed the clothbound photo album this evening only to find dodgy streaks across the front and back. Amazon will issue a refund. Think I have another chest infection coming on. Bastard! 10.32pm.

Saturday 7th March 2026

Up at six. Did morning pages on the bus to Newcastle. Arrived at quarter to nine. Tried four shops before I found a decent photo album. Then got a bus to Durham to print the pics. Not sequenced yet, but it shouldn’t be too difficult. Feel a bit rough this evening. Been coughing a lot. Maybe I shouldn't go to the Rob Auton show tomorrow. Damn! 8.44pm.


Sunday 8th March 2026

Put a couple of pics in Mam's photo album this morning. Then found out she doesn't want any more books as presents. Felt rough until dinner time, then much better. Rob Auton’s CAN show was brilliant at The Stand in Newcastle this afternoon. Tony Gadd kindly gave me a lift home. Oxtail soup, then early to bed. OK. 9.45pm.

Monday 9th March 2026

Thirteen hours making up a run of fifty pages for a photo album to give to Mam for Mother's Day. Lots of good images and a bunch of cartoons Jenni made over a decade ago. Also, a few of Jenni's poems, a bunch of mine, some photos of siblings and other family members. I will deliver the album by hand later this week. I’m quite tired now. Just as well that tomorrow's session ideas aren’t difficult to put into practice. I want to do a few more rehearsals for my gig in Sunderland. I have monthly earnings to calculate. The rest of the time, I'll be chipping away at some manuscripts. OK. 11.55pm.


Tuesday 10th March 2026

Waddy session: Flash titles as prompts. Readbacks, then a look at the original flash fictions. We wrote six-sentence paragraphs with a tough constraint. No repeat words. Then experimented with different ways to start stories. This evening I rehearsed my set for King Ink and rewrote three new fragments just to have something new to read. I’m almost falling asleep at the page now. Time for bed. 11.03pm.


Wednesday 11th March 2026

Did a Facebook post for tomorrow's King Ink event, then printed out a dozen NaPoWriMo poems from a few different years that might be usable at some point. I got ready to visit Mam and Ernie. The one o'clock bus didn't show up – surprise, surprise! – so I didn't get to Durham till quarter to three. Then there wasn't a bus to Newton Aycliffe until half past three. I reached Woodham Village around half past four. It was good to have the day away and chat for a couple of hours. Ernie made a nice fry-up with bacon, eggs and sausage. I spoke briefly to Brother Mark on the phone. Then, when it was time to leave, Ernie insisted on giving me a lift home. Forty-five minutes. OK. 9.40pm.


Thursday 12th March 2026

Two hours and thirty-five minutes from my door to Park Lane Interchange, Sunderland. Pepperoni pizza and spicy fries for tea. In Greggs to get warm because the bus was freezing. Now drinking blackcurrant and soda in a pub opposite Pop Recs Ltd. Organiser Helen Wilko is here but hasn't seen me yet. The music playing is ELO and other standard 70s fare. The doctor this morning told me there's no way to measure the severity of my tinnitus. But I've seen several websites that have sound simulators designed to do just that. 5.55pm.

Later: a great night at Pop Recs Ltd for King Ink. Consistently good open floor. Very chuffed to do my 20-minute set and sell some books. Big thanks to Helen and James for inviting me. And people who braved horrid weather to be there. Big thanks to Aaron Wright for the ride to Chester-le-Street. Caught the 78 bus and now on my way to Consett. Big rest tomorrow. OK. 11.12pm.


Friday 13th March 2026

As anticipated, just too tired to do much today. Comedown from last night's gig. I put book stock away, then went food shopping. Chicken tikka masala and rice with naan and spicy wedges for tea. I've been asleep on the settee and have woken up with very cold legs. Think I'm done for the day. Still have lots to do. But no energy. So I'm going to turn in, I think. Tinnitus is very bad tonight. This morning I had an ace dream about a bunch of eccentric university students who all did really good side hustles and were ace at parkour, cake baking, stilt-walking, and generally looking like extras in an Emilie Autumn video or Alice in Wonderland. Great stuff. OK. 8.59pm.


Saturday 14th March 2026

Listened to a good edition of The Verb today: Alistair McGowan, Simon Armitage, and Joelle Taylor. Then voiced in some entries and made up a new morning pages notebook. Went to Newcastle for paper supplies, then to Jen's place. Very sleepy this evening. And cold. Ate lots of chicken and some oaty biscuits. OK. 10.25pm.


Sunday 15th March 2026

Big lie in then rambling morning pages. Jenni and I went out for supplies. Phone our mams, visited John and Hillary this afternoon. I’ve eaten a lot more chicken today. I ordered a pair of Phantom black ten-eyelet boots from EMP. Tonight we watched The Ballad of Wallis Island, a comedy starring Tim Key as a lottery-winner who pays his favourite musicians to play a private gig on a remote beach. Enjoyed it. OK. 11.30pm.


Monday 16th March 2026

Woke up with a tendon strain in my right leg. I was supposed to be going home this morning, but Jenni and I decided to go see Aaron Wright perform at Gateshead Library this afternoon. Then we went to a Helix Arts workshop. I’ve decided to stay another night. Jenni kindly took photos of my rarely worn Grinder boots and will try to sell the massive footwear on Vinted. I went through some of the writing exercises I'm setting at MAKING TRACKS in Newcastle on Thursday. The heating is on in the attic tonight. OK. 10.25pm.


THE REASON I DON’T WANT TO
SWITCH FROM TALKTALK TO BT

The man said it was easy-peasy
Just a few details and an engineer
Would come and rig me up to British Telecom
Said I'd save fortune without a landline
Super-fast high-fibre broadband

But I like the landline, I said
I like my bulky phone and large keypad
I don't want people ringing me on a mobile
I don't want to get a new router
I don't want to lose my email archive
Or pay a monstrous sum to retain it
I don't want to change my TalkTalk address
Or pay a monstrous sum to retain it
I like my landline, it's perfectly fine

GOD, he says, WHY DO PEOPLE HATE BT?

I don't hate British Telecom
I just hate change, even for the better
I'm a fuddy-duddy, set in my ways
Anxious enough without another headmash
Don't give me any more to worry about
I don't want your special offers
I don't want to use a mobile number
I don’t want to give it to anyone and everyone

Do you know how few calls I make?
I don't even know my own mobile number
And I don't want to get a new router
I'm not changing on your say-so
I want to stay with TalkTalk
Even though the broadband is crap

And with that, the sales rep left
Furious to be still working overtime
Trying to persuade this cantankerous sod
And getting absolutely nowhere


Tuesday 17th March 2026

Up and out very early this morning to get stuff for the workshop and dinner before catching the X21 bus from Gateshead to Durham. Spent two hours preparing for the Waddy session, then had lentil and bacon soup. I road-tested the MAKING TRACKS session that I'll be doing on Thursday in Newcastle. And pleased I did. I'm ditching Kennings and A2Z characters. I got through the exercises in the allotted forty-five minutes. Then repeated some NaPoWriMo prompts in the second hour. The bus home was packed. I had a steak dinner with veg. Got a headache so had to lie down for an hour. My right leg seems a lot better. And I've done a bit of physio on my arm. OK. 10.17pm.


Wednesday 18th March 2026

The computer was awfully slow for most of the evening, even after a big update from Microsoft, but I finally got Poetry Jam publicity out on Facebook. I've eaten a steak sandwich and a chicken sandwich. I’ve tweaked the MAKING TRACKS workshop a little and prepared material for Friday’s Arts Centre Washington session. Fingers crossed. 10.40pm.


Thursday 19th March 2026

Ten young participants for MAKING TRACKS today. Exercises fitted the allotted timeframe nicely. Some of the participants were a little reluctant, initially, but most put pen to paper. I read out words from some of the shy ones. The buses back from Newcastle to Moorside took ages. Almost two hours from Central Station to my house. Another steak and veg dinner, then songs by Twisted Sister. OK. 9.30pm.


Friday 20th March 2026

Today's workshop was good. I wasn't sure how it would go, but the journaling aspect seemed to work. Good feedback. Nicola Spain gave me a nice card saying thanks for asking her to read at Poetry Jam early this month. She says taking part helped her a lot. Had a good chat with Alwyn Bathan on the way back to Gateshead: dark farming literature and rowdy kids at the theatre. I had a great time at For Better or Verse. Sets from Tabitha McGowan and Cooper Robson were brilliant. Mint open floor people as well. I read ‘ScRaPs’ and ‘Family Anecdote’. Tesco shopping afterwards. OK. 11.52pm.


Saturday 21st March 2026

First trail ride down by the River Derwent on the Sonder Frontier adventure bike since I tore the bicep tendon in my left arm. I managed to tackle all the terrain I was riding there last year, but the left shoulder is aching this evening. I've slept quite a bit. Had another grilled beef steak and steamed veg dinner. Read some flash fiction and listen to eighties Queen. OK. 9.57pm.


Sunday 22nd March 2026

I'm at home in Moorside this weekend. Most of the day was spent going through NaPoWriMo files and recent notebooks in search of pieces to go in the next official full-length poetry collection. I now have over one hundred pieces to choose from. Yet another steak dinner and lots of peanuts. OK. 10.26pm.


Monday 23rd March 2026

Today was pretty good. I can't quite remember it all, but I seem to get a fair bit done. I enjoyed tweaking some of my poems for the next book. Chuffed to get a load of stuff sorted for the next couple of writing workshops. I enjoyed listening to an edition of The Verb from a couple of years ago featuring Jackie Kay, Amelia Coburn, Rowan McCabe, and oral storyteller Danyah Miller. The host, Ian McMillan, was on good form as usual, and the show was recorded live in Hebden Bridge. Amelia sang Wuthering Heights and her own Dublin Serenade. Tonight I watched the 'Until the Light Takes Us' black metal documentary. Then a twenty-minute Rollins Band live TV studio performance followed by the Classic Albums: Nirvana – Nevermind documentary. Great stuff. OK. 11.43pm.


Tuesday 24th March 2024

Today’s session at Waddy was good. Take Three Nouns. An episode of The Verb, another look at submissions for our next anthology, plus Guilty Pleasures to finish off. I put up Poetry Jam posters around the building. Back home for chicken dinner, Facebook reels, then physio and supper. OK. 10.20pm.


Wednesday 25th March 2026

My new Phantom boots arrived. Much better fitting than the Grinders from 2023 which Jenni sold on Vinted last week. Canny turnout at the Red Squirrel Press 20th Anniversary event at Newcastle Lit and Phil. Edwin Stockdale read from his new collection Winter Wolf. Pauline Plummer was launching Each Man is a Half-Open Door, a new collection of short stories. David Costello had strong poems about bereavement. Tom Kelly read from his new poetry and prose collection These Are My Bounds. Nice to see fellow Red Squirrel Press poets and of course Sheila Wakefield. Jenni stayed back long after the main event, but I caught the ten past ten X45 back to Consett. OK. 11.59pm.


Thursday 26th March 2026

Today, I will put comfy insoles into my brand-new Phantom boots because they are wide and high, unlike my work boots or Doc Martens from 2017. Today I will eat more dry-roasted peanuts and risk a weight increase that makes yesterday's black jeans redundant. Today I will use toilet paper to stem the flow of water from my nose, because although it's April next week, we aren't out of the woods yet.

Today I will have curried butternut squash soup and a tuna and red pepper sandwich for lunch. Today I will try to complete the current round of anthology updates on the big computer. Today I will probably fail to achieve much of what I set out to do. Today I will try to break down the contents of a book published seven years ago to help me sequence my next official poetry paperback. Today I will try to read more and scroll less.

My machine is on charge. I want to see Fury play at Trillians tonight, but I know my ears will not forgive me for the punishment.

It's a nice blue sky morning, but the temperature is low. I feel like I'm treading water at present. I'm almost at the point where I consider giving up on the morning pages, but I know that I won't.

I made a big list a few days ago of all the stuff I have to do to stay on track. It's getting harder and harder every year. You have to put the effort in.

I talked to Tom Kelly last night about my knackered left arm. How much physio is too much? When does healthy motion become obsession? Tom said in later life his parents sat in armchairs and found it difficult to move.

I am becoming more stationary. Dull. Uninspired. Ready to say: fuck it all.

Creativity sometimes feels like a treadwheel to me. Will my next triumph fulfil me? There is an obsession with logging the moment, creating content good or bad, to feel relevant, to feel active, to feel productive, to justify existence and forward motion.

It just seems like there's always a cycle of struggle to produce good material, anxiety over its development and publication, and slog to make it land with impact. Only to crave another success when the buzz wears off.

Of course, creativity should be play, but so much of it feels like slog. I'm never content for long. Trying to do good feels like wading through sludge. A lot of the time, I just want to say: No, stop! And be able to just potter on without the nagging anxiety of obligation. Of course, I could take a week off to do housework, wash clothes and go for walks - but would soon get the fear that some important commitment was falling by the wayside.

People often tell me that I do a lot and that my output is quite remarkable. But a lot of the time I feel like I'm just faking it and worrying about stuff. I feel the need to reside in a bubble without external influences on my autonomy. If I get involved with lots of people for too long, I feel like I'm starting to suffocate.

These pages every morning are a chore; a lack of bright ideas forces me to double down on my dark stultification and ruminate, expressing thoughts and feelings that otherwise might just come and go without too much trouble.

Putting words on paper makes you focus. Sometimes there is exaggeration or just repetition. Sometimes I get too meta. I waffle for a few sentences. I ramble and often think, For Fuck's Sake, not another blank page – was the quarter of a million words of shit last year not enough?

Today I will eat steak with fresh veg. Today I will get annoyed about not going to see the heavy rock band Fury play in Newcastle. Today I will try to read some of Tom Kelly's poems and maybe one of Pauline Plummer's short stories.

Last night I didn't feel like I had much to say at the 20th anniversary Red Squirrel Press event. There was a good turnout. And 20 years and over 300 books published by Sheila Wakefield is an amazing achievement – she has helped so many poets over the years.

People are always nice and ask me what I'm up to. But often I don’t feel very sociable. I tend to switch off a lot. I notice myself doing it, but sometimes lack the energy or maybe the social skills to be present with people.

I am tired. I didn't get home until midnight. I didn't turn out the bedside light until after one o'clock. I was awake before eight.

Today I will sit at the desktop computer. Today I will consider cleaning the gunk out of my bike bag on the handlebar of the old Specialized Rockhopper. Today I will wash some underwear.

Today I will eat oranges, bananas, tuna, shallots, and sultanas. Today I will pine for a full-length paperback of my best journal extracts. Today, today, today... Time is ticking. I'm getting irritable and irritating.

Jenni is going to a poetry Salon event in Tynemouth tonight. She's going to Washington tomorrow to look at the moon.

 
Could I go to see Fury tonight?
Could I go to Quillseekers in Hexham tomorrow?

I don't have to plan a workshop for next week.
But still feel up against it all. OK. 9.45am.

LATER: So today turned out okay. I did most of what I said I do. And I went to see Fury at Trillians tonight. They were blistering. Really good. I knew most of the songs. And they played a bunch of my favourites, including Breakdown and Road Warrior. Bass player Becky Baldwin was at the admission desk when I arrived. I gave her the thumbs up. Later, I bought a skeletal patch of her face. I got a really good nook to the left side of the stage where the sound wasn't too overpowering. A lot of the crowd were into it. I got the new album, Interceptor, and a DVD, and another patch. I'm now on the x45 bus approaching Ebchester. The bus voice was really loud and high-pitched right above my head. I had to move to another seat. Now the engine drone is in my left ear. Hopefully, I'll be okay tomorrow. 11.22pm.


Friday 27th March 2026

Major tinnitus spike in my right ear this morning. A headwind made this afternoon’s ninety minutes on the Rockhopper bike somewhat arduous. ‘Quillseekers’ spoken word night isn't on this week. So this evening, I tried to stir myself to work, but I've done nothing. I will go to bed early and hopefully get a better start tomorrow. The tinnitus is about equal in both ears at present, but louder than before the Fury gig. I ate steak sandwiches and oxtail soup. Lethargic. 8.45pm.


Saturday 28th March 2026

Got quite a bit of work done for Ann Porro's pamphlet. Sorted some anthology stuff as well. I listened to Fury and did some quick checks of various Darkthrone album track-listings. Walked to Consett and got supplies, then bused to Jen's place. Read some of Tom Kelly's new book. These Are My Bounds. Watched Britain's Got Talent. Played Jen some Queen cover versions by Marc Marcel. Ate cold hot cross buns and a corned beef and potato pasty. OK. 10.50pm.


Sunday 29th March 2026

Big write-up in morning pages of latest book shenanigans after being awake until three. Out to Gateshead for supplies. Read up on the whereabouts of musician Emilie Autumn, which was quite sad. Tonight, at Tyneside Cinema, Jenni and I saw ‘Orwell 2+2=5’. It uses extracts from his writings narrated by Damien Lewis, with footage, old and recent, showing the accuracy of his 1984 speculations. OK. 11.24pm.


Monday 30th March 2026

I had toast and cake and chatted with Jenni, then went to Newcastle to buy cardstock for Ann Porro’s pamphlet. Looked round the revamped HMV then fell asleep on the bus to Consett. The Poetry Jam pics are up on Facebook. I’ve listened to a couple of Darkthrone albums. Ate cold hot cross buns then a Red Leicester and tomato sandwich. OK. 10.57pm.


Tuesday 31st March 2026

Today’s workshop at Waddy was A2Z word banks from which we made prose trinkets. Then we did a Poetry Jam style readaround of anthology submissions in hopes of discovering connections and were pleasantly surprised with the results. I showed the group a few sonnets at the end and let them have a go at their own. Tonight another steak dinner. No music. No doom scrolling. NaPoWriMo starts tomorrow. Will I take up the challenge? I stuck with it a few years ago. But bailed after a few days in 2024. I aim to have this blog online by midnight. OK. 10.26pm.

FEBRUARY

Sunday 1st February 2026

Strange being in Consett on a Sunday. I pulled together ideas for the next Waddy session, had lentil and bacon soup, then attended Lorraine Weightman's “Good Company” book launch. She introduced herself and the novel very well. The cafe was packed. I read twenty or thirty pages this evening. If the temperature is okay tomorrow I might get out on the bike. 11.42pm.


Monday 2nd February 2026

Productive day. Sorted my set lists for the Meet the Author gigs coming up mid-month. I prepped a visual translation exercise for Waddington Street Centre and gathered materials for a visual display of recent writing in Carmen’s and Josie’s “Change the Story” sessions for Wednesday. I've read a little bit more of Lorraine's “Good Company”. I'm a bit tired because I stayed up till one this morning reading “The Glorious Heresies” by Lisa McInerney. This evening the Loop Experience 2 earplugs arrived. Fingers crossed they are good enough to prevent further tinnitus damage at the Suede concert next weekend. I've done physio, had my chicken dinner, and doom scrolled. Maybe I should have called Tuppenny Chinwag DOOM SCROLLER. Anyway, I'm almost done. OK. 10.37pm.


Tuesday 3rd February 2026

Missed my chance on Sunday to get a bike ride. I'm busy pretty much all this week. Really enjoyed the workshop today. Did thumbs down and thumbs up, gratitude lists, love and hate, reshaping free verse, and visual translation of poems from a foreign language. Three people in with me. The bus to Gateshead was too loud. Too snotty. And a bit chilly. I bought some black jeans from a charity shop for a mere 75p. A few white specs on the left leg, which I blotted out with a marker pen, but otherwise okay. Me and Jenni went to see 'Is This Thing On?' at Vue Cinema tonight. It’s a comedy loosely based on the early stand-up journey of John Bishop. Quite good, but I would have preferred less on the relationship and more on the comedy. Steak pie and nuts. Watched Richmond the Goth in IT Crowd. Very warm in the attic. OK. 11.33pm.


Wednesday 4th February 2026

Up quite early. Jenni kindly sorted more updates on my mobile device. I got a £7.50 ticket and two buses to Durham. I replenished handouts and sorted stuff for Carmen’s and Josie’s “Change the Story” workshop. I made a few changes to my poem. But found the art room just too noisy to concentrate in. I’m not very good at working around chatter. I had a tiresome bus journey home. Baked potato with tuna and BBQ beans for tea. And a sweet mince pie. I found more colour images tonight for Friday’s workshop. Then I doom scrolled for a while. I’m concerned about work being carried out on the roof of the adjoining property. I can’t really afford to get a new roof. I wonder how bad mine is. I’ve been here over three decades. I listened to a bit of Jarboe tonight. OK. 10.21pm.


Thursday 5th February 2026

Didn't get much done this morning. Hung around waiting for someone to pick up a consent form for building work taking place next door that might affect my property. I got the 1.15pm bus to Waddy. Rehearsed all the poems for the two Meet the Author gigs I'm doing later this month. I've ditched a couple of pieces that are no longer needed for continuity. I'm adding Abracadabra to set two. I'm chuffed with the way it's going. I need to pull another workshop together for next Tuesday but I'm okay. Great Poetry Jam. Top open floor people and great sets from Ross Punton, Helen Wilko and Andy Willoughby. Andy asked five open floor poets to be backing vocalists on his final poem. Ross is getting more confident. Helen did well to overcome technical issues and read a poem about me. I'm still at Waddy. About to eat a Pot Noodle then run for the last bus. OK. 10.51pm.


Friday 6th February 2026

Hardly any sleep last night. Didn't get to bed till after twelve and woke again by half six. Quick pages then porridge. Out the house by twenty past eight. Roadworks in Stanley knocked me back by about fifteen minutes. So I was late getting to Chester-le-Street. Then I needed the toilet and had to buy something for lunch, so I missed a connection to Washington. The workshop went really well. Nine people in and the translation exercise was a winner. I asked Nicola Spain if she'd like to take the opening guest slot at Poetry Jam next month. I’m delighted she said yes. Thanks to Alwyn Bathan for the lift to Metro Centre. Me and Jenni watched Michael McIntyre show and Inside No 9. Jen made some spice bags for tea/supper. I read some Rachel Hewitt essays online. OK. 10.32pm.


Saturday 7th February 2026

Seventy-minute walk in the pissing rain looking for the Barbican Centre in York. Suede were great. I stood by the back wall for a while then moved forward. Great mix of old and new songs. No ‘Wild Ones’ but they played 'It Starts and Ends with You'. Also excellent 'She Still Leads Me On'. Brett Anderson is really energetic. Great crowd. Back at the train station by eleven. 11.17pm.


Sunday 8th February 2026

Slight increase in buzzing in ears this morning, which should go back to how it was before in due course. Great to see so much footage from last night’s gig on Facebook today. I’ve been back in Moorside since two this afternoon and haven’t felt able to do anything productive. But a very busy week ahead, preparing stock for the library gigs on 16th and 17th. OK. 11.45pm.

Monday 9th February 2026

Started off feeling a bit knackered. Started off not wanting to do anything at all. But it turned out to be a canny productive day. I got some of my 2023 pamphlet stock replenished. I’ve printed out my set lists large for next week. Had enquiries for two workshops. Started Ann Porro’s pamphlet. It currently runs to 36 pages. My computer is being a pain. Outlook out of action and everything super slow with internet running. Spotify started working again tonight so I listened to three Suede albums back to back. I’m finding the tinnitus level has gone up despite no distorted hearing after the gig. If it stays as it is, I won’t be going to any more rock concerts. Computer being a pain, not letting me close pop ups. Hate it. 11.55pm.


Tuesday 10th February 2026

Slept in slightly after a fourteen-and-a-half-hour shift yesterday. Didn’t get to Waddy until midday. Not much to set up. Got some flyers printed but probably won’t use many. I left a copy of Unruly Eyebrow at Waddy for Josie, who does the graphics for Change the Story workshops with Carmen. My workshop went well this afternoon. The group did over forty pieces of writing in total. I managed ten new drafts. Got the X21 to Gateshead. Me and Jenni stayed in tonight. Greatly enjoyed the new McKenzie Crook series Small Prophets. The story is a bit far-fetched – about a guy who grows homunculi in his garden shed so he can ask them what happened to his girlfriend who went missing seven years ago – but the characters are brilliant. Then we watched a couple of episodes of the IT Crowd. I ate chicken sandwiches, pork pies and oranges. OK. 10.52pm.


Wednesday 11th February 2026

Shitty day. Bus didn’t turn up, so I didn’t get back to Consett before midday, which meant I had to reschedule a meeting and stay in Wetherspoons, avoiding the pissing rain till two o’clock. Then the fucking bus app lied. 3.10pm. didn’t materialise. I should have been home from Gateshead by one o’clock. Instead, it was fucking four. But I’ve written it up a lot better in my phone messages to Tony Gadd and Jenni. Tonight I ate BBQ beans, mushrooms, baked potatoes and beef steak. I bought Jenni a load of sweet stuff for Saturday. I listen to The Beautiful Ones compilation album from Suede and a bit of Amelia Coburn. I did some promo work and responded to Ann Porro about her pamphlet, which I’ll be making this year. Then it was The Living Dead by Suede live from York. Superb. 11.50pm.


Thursday 12th February 2026

Trimmed the replenished pamphlet stock. Inked up more Thirteen Days in May, and sewed up So Much for the Sunshine. Did a session plan tonight for next Tuesday. Been asleep for a while as well. Jenni sent an updated version of my Coming Back to This poster, but Facebook wouldn’t let me replace the original on my recent post, so now it just has two dates but no pic showing what they are for. I’ve uploaded the new pic as a separate post. Stupid tech. I’ve had curried butternut squash soup and a good chilli with baked potato. Now I’m going to have my last Thornton’s toffee. I tried to read The Glorious Heresies by Lisa McInerney, but fell asleep. 11.17pm.


Friday 13th February 2026

Another bookmaking day. Got a few covers glued on So Much for the Sunshine and made up some copies of Final. A roofing company rep asked me if I’d like a no obligation quote for a new roof but there’s no way I can afford it. I had a bit of a gristly steak for tea. The bus to Jen’s place was freezing. But I’ve had a canny couple of days. I’m chuffed to do work on the books. I hope to get a decent turnout for the gigs next week. The Last Leg is on. Political. I’m struggling to stay awake. Gonna knock off soon. OK. 10.54pm.


Saturday 14th February 2026

Happy Valentine’s Day. Jenni got me a Gavin and Stacey book. And I got her a box of assorted cakes, chocolates and puddings. Jenni went to see Punk Rock Factory at NX in Newcastle. I went to see Amelia Coburn at the Common Room in the Mining Institute down the road. We enjoyed our gigs and met up afterwards to get supplies at Tesco. OK. 11.17pm.


Sunday 15th February 2026

Big lie in. Morning Pages. Than a lazy day – scrolling social media and watching vintage game shows on television. Jenni made spice bags for tea: coconut rice, chilli pepper, tomatoes, chicken nuggets – very nice. I came home early to rehearse again for tomorrow’s Bowburn gig. If I go off script, the adlibs are a bit long, but I’m sure it will all be okay on the day. 11.08pm.


Monday 16th February 2026

Up at half six to get ready for my Local Author Festival gig. I was at Waddy just after eleven. I was back in Durham bus station by one. And in Bowburn library by two. Took less than half an hour to set up. Very low turnout. Four people. Two of them had been on my writing courses over a decade ago. One was published in our 2008 Waddy Writers anthology. And the other attended a Claypath Library course in 2013. It was good to adlib anecdotes between readings and talk at length about bookmaking. OK. 10.40pm.


Tuesday 17th February 2026

Today was great. The buses were on time. I had one of the best turnouts for a Waddy workshop since I left New College Durham. Exercises I made up last week flowed well and people enjoyed them. I dropped my bags off in Consett Library, then went to Barry’s Bargain Superstore for some cheap cakes, butternut squash soup and chilli. I ate a 72p Walls sausage roll with Greggs spicy wedges for tea whilst standing at a pillar in the Derwent Centre near Boyes. Then I set up my gig at the library. The Lego club was just finishing. My name was on flyers on the table. A woman asked if I was the author. I showed her a handmade hardback copy of Anomalies. She bought Laughter to Split Glass. The gig went well. People asked good questions and I sold £65 of stock. Martin Weston kindly gave me a lift home. Today was great. 11.35pm.


Wednesday 18th February 2026

Not a great day. Probably just comedown off last night. I’ve prepped my workshop handouts for Friday and pulled together a Waddy session for next Tuesday. I went out for an hour on the bike this afternoon. I had chilli and rice for tea then did physio. Tonight I read a few pages of the Gavin and Stacy book that Jenni bought me. Told Jenni about last night’s gig. It would be good to do full shows a couple of times every week. I’m cold now. Tired and irritable. I hope things work out OK for me. 11.30pm.


Thursday 19th February 2026

A bloke tried to sell me a new roof today. He stood on the landing and shone his phone light into the attic hatch and said the wooden beams are knackered, and the roofing lining is shot. He stood in the back garden and said the chimney has no mortar keeping it together. The house is over 50 years old. Do I have to pay £8,900 for a new roof? I’m a scribbler, not a bank manager. “Okay”, he said, “How about £7,000 on a spring deal?” If nearly a quarter of the original price can be ditched in two minutes, was it worth the best part of nine grand in the first place? I have rarely earned more than seven grand in a year. I’ve never spent more than eight hundred in one go. I am not commercially viable. Not many writers are. Not one of my best days. OK. 10.55pm.


Friday 20th February 2026

Today was canny. The buses were all on time. The writing session was very well attended. Ten participants, with some of the regulars absent. I repeated Tuesday’s Waddy session. One-minute sentences, poem cut-ups, character sketches, kennings. I ate cold pasta for lunch and a banana. Alwyn Bathan and I exchanged writing gripes on the ride to Gateshead. Later in Consett, I bought fruit, veg and meat. My house was freezing when I got back. I’m still concerned about the roof. I don’t know if I should be. It doesn’t sag. And any leak it had was due to a knackered ridge tile long since repaired. No tiles are missing. Sure, it looks grotty, but so fuck. I wear grotty clothes. My silver Rockhopper bike is 20 years old. Just because the council upgrades others, does it mean I have to? Maybe I should get an opinion from someone with no skin in the game. OK. 11.52pm.


Saturday 21st February 2026

Bit of a lie in this morning, then a porridge breakfast and change into bike clothes for a little ride on the old Rockhopper. Most of the off-road route was okay but some bits were extremely muddy. I rode down the wood to Allensford and along to the pumphouse, uphill to the top of the slag heaps, then across to Knitsley, back over to Rowley, then home. I’ve eaten a lot of reduced-price chicken. Me and Jenni watched Britain’s Got Talent. OK. 11.05pm.


Sunday 22nd February 2026

Big lazy day at Jen’s. We listened to Paddy McGuinness, then the woman sitting in for Elaine Paige. Tonight we watched Year of the Rabbit – which is hilarious – and the snooker final. Now Gogglebox. I’ve eaten too much food this month. Need to get back to the diet. Big work ahead. OK. 10.47pm.


Monday 23rd February 2026

Energy level is low tonight. Didn’t get as much done as I’d have liked. I got the materials ready for tomorrow’s Waddy session. Sometimes it only takes a few minutes to sequence a list of activities on paper, but up to two hours to find items and duplicate them for handouts. During the search I often discover other stuff suitable for subsequent sessions. I made myself an ace chicken dinner tonight. First time using leeks. I am still eating sweet mince pies. I’ve put on a few pounds. My left arm is aching again. I fell asleep on the settee. OK. 11.52pm.


Tuesday 24th February 2026

Go North East gave us a decent bus with good seats. Nothing rattled. I sat upstairs reading a journaling handbook from 1990. At lunchtime I sat in the Waddy staff kitchen and listened to some political discussions about grassroots Labour and how the party is difficult to vote for these days. I won’t be voting for them. I’m getting more cynical about it all. Each party just seems to be playing from the same big corporation songbook. My workshop went well this afternoon. I anticipated an early finish, so I came up with a little cut-up exercise to finish off with, using lines we wrote at the start of the session, bringing it all full circle. I got more supplies at Tesco and Barry’s this afternoon. Then home for another big chicken dinner. Had some doorstep confusion from a BT representative. I don’t like change and will stick with TalkTalk. OK. 10.07pm.


Wednesday 25th February 2026

Procrastination. Awful. Little done. Booked a guest for the April edition of Poetry Jam. Was booked to perform at an acoustic music event in May, which I'm looking forward to. Been watching biketrial clips, extreme parkour, and little bits of wellbeing interviews on Facebook reels. I read a bit more of Defying Gravity – Jordan’s Story, ate baked potatoes with mushrooms, curry beans and tuna, drank loads of apple and blackcurrant squash, and have been out in the twelve degrees sunshine on the old Rockhopper bike. But now I feel a bit of a sniffle coming on. The Wi-Fi went a bit dodgy this evening, but it's okay now. Jenni is raving about last night's Peter Capaldi music gig at The Cluny. I'm pleased she had a good time. I've got a few bookings. Need to rehearse new material. OK. 10.37pm.


Thursday 26th February 2026

Up quite early. Greatly entertained by connoisseur of the meat takeaway, Kyle Vs Food, on Facebook reels this morning. My pages are brighter than usual. I edited a lot of entries on the mobile and did some work for Washington writers but got a stinking headache towards the end of it. Had a chicken dinner and a long lie down. Then read Defying Gravity for an hour. I've been snacking on nuts and sultanas a lot. I'm behind in my work. But things are getting better with the milder temperatures. Another month and I should be firing on all cylinders. I need to up the protein intake. I need more meat. I wanted to read some of Clive Barker's Books of Blood this winter. I wanted to read lots of books. I should stay off the mobile device. I've just had cheese on toast. 0K. 11.37pm.


Friday 27th February 2026

Ten minutes to do my evening page or the world might end! Well, not really. It's been a busy day. Negotiating house repairs, working on a Waddington Street Writers pamphlet, and making up a preliminary copy of Ann Porro's forthcoming pamphlet. And of course the Green Party won a by-election. And the fascists are seething. Poor little Nazi boys. Fuck off! I'm feeling pretty good. Jenni haggled a good price on a commercial-use license for a typewriter font for me this evening. And Ann is pleased with the pics I sent of her pamphlet. It's early days and there are always teething problems and tech issues, but we’ll get there. I would like to see the Michael Monroe band at Northumbria Uni tomorrow night, but my ears can't really take it. I've not got much else to say. Just chuffed to be feeling good today. 11.53pm.


Saturday 28th February 2026

I cheated today. I've been awake for about three hours. I picked up the mobile device just to check the temperature, but got distracted and decided to go back over the last year of posts on my Facebook feed. Lots of great things I'd forgotten about – gigs, dialogues, poetry happenings, lovely supportive comments from friends... It's good to take time to reflect on the positives, instead of doom scrolling and spewing negatives.

Today is a fair bit cooler than yesterday. Last night I had my sleeves rolled up and was busy with bookmaking activities till about nine o'clock. Then I took a walk up to The Grove convenience store to post a preliminary pamphlet to Ann Porro. £3.60 first class. £2.00 second class.

Old-school hard-copy small press activity in the nineties was slow but affordable. A few pound coins sellotaped into a card wallet for the latest issue of Scratch or Headlock magazine. The internet is good for lots of things, but has made snail mail ridiculously expensive.
 
I'm cheating today. I'll be posting my blog long before I do an evening page. Last day of the month. The clocks get set forward an hour in March. Hopefully I'll be able to bike more. I wanted to get out today but there isn't time. I'm not going to Jen’s until tomorrow. I need to be home first thing Tuesday to speak to another man about a roof. It seems you don't have to pay through the nose after all.

Some kid is screeching and mithering in the street and it's aggravating the fuck out of me. How women cope I don't know. I just don't have the patience. I have tolerance for very little...

Yesterday I pulled out a dozen workshop notebooks from last year. A dozen. And that wasn't including January and February. I've got 24 morning pages books plus my evening diary, work log, and gratitude journal. I write far too many words that won't make it into print.

I thought about putting together a hard-copy photo album with captions, bits of poetry and some of Jenni’s witticisms. Poems as well.

I looked through the C2C album earlier. I like it. I think I did okay visually documenting the ride. I also read some of my 'Longer Days and Lighter Nights' pieces written during lockdown. The challenge was to go out for a walk about half an hour before dusk each evening, observing and writing about the surroundings, avoiding any first-person pronouns. I did about eighty nights from the day after the clocks went forward an hour to the longest day in June. I took photographs each day and wrote an A7 page of notes. I posted a few online each week. A whole book of it might be too much. But there are some good image captures and turns of phrase that might make it into print at some point.

I need to plan a workshop for Tuesday. Or, I might just repeat something from a couple of years ago. I've had Wednesday to Friday at home but don't seem to have done much. I keep thinking of new things to work on. I wish I'd had the savvy to publish personal annuals from 2000 onwards. I will never get all the work published. The next official poetry collection will be something of a New and Selected, really. 'Laughter to Split Glass' spanned over a decade of creativity.

I don't think I should bother with breakfast today. It's going to be nearly eleven before I'm back in the kitchen. I usually have dinner around half twelve.

I want to read more of Jordan Mooney’s/Cathi Unsworth’s Defying Gravity book. And some Clive Barker. I want to get out on the bike. It was a good move going to Tesco after posting the pamphlet last night. Enough grub to keep me going till Tuesday.

Busy week next week. Need to get something sorted soon for Mother's Day. Need to prepare a new set for King Ink. I'm thinking of taking the one I used at 'For Better or Verse' last autumn as a starting point, and gradually replacing pieces till I get a new flow. I want to include more prose. Well, more prose-ier than some of my poetry, haha!

The sky looks quite heavy this morning. But not cold enough for snow. Oh and I must remember to make up a new morning pages notebook for March. I'll see how loud the empty can rattles next month.

Anyway, this has been a better month than January. And the next one should see me with increased momentum.

Thanks for reading this far. Have a good one. OK. 10.45am.

HAPPY NEW YEAR

Thursday 1st January 2026

Loaded with cold. Snotty beak and a bit of a cough. Sore throat before breakfast, but that eased by mid-morning. Went into town for more supplies. Had lentil and bacon soup with a tin of tuna in it. Jenni stayed in bed to beat the cold and watch telly. I feel rotten. I should have stayed in Consett. Jenni wanted me to be here for New Year. But not a great way to start. I read the opening chapters of How Saints Die by Carmen Marcus. I made notes, otherwise I'd forget what I'd read. Literary, visual vignettes from a Saltburn poet. I ate hot dogs for tea. This evening, after Day of the Triffids, after Aladdin, some game shows and Gogglebox. Now it’s The Salt Path Exposed documentary. If only they'd deemed it autofiction. Hope my snottiness goes away soon. OK. 11.33pm.

Friday 2nd January 2026

Another snotty day. Went back out to Gateshead. Tempted to buy new joggers, but didn't. Got lots more supplies for the next couple of days. My nose is really fucking sore. Sick of snotting on. Had Beecham's hot lemon a couple of times. Really tired now. Hope I feel better soon or I’ll have to cancel next week's appointments. Surely I'll be okay by next Friday, my only paid gig of the week. I earn fuck-all these days. Shocking really. OK. 11.16pm.


Saturday 3rd January 2026

Better day. Cough seems to be easing a bit. Me and Jenni watched The Coffee Table this afternoon. A really dark so-called comedy, worth checking out. This evening BBC Newcastle broadcast my chat with Emma Millen for Upload. It was well edited and I came across okay. Game shows and music videos this evening. Lots of food and the heating is on. OK. 10.55pm.


Sunday 4th January 2026

Still a bit snotty but heating on in Jen's place all day. I made a big pottage with mushrooms and baked potatoes but Jenni didn't want any. We watched Bowie Final Act. Very good. Very moving. Black Star ending. I read quite a bit of How Saints Die, but I haven't made notes so won't remember much. Sorted my Christmas stuff out back in cellar twelve. Absolutely freezing. OK. 10.17pm.


Monday 5th January 2026

Too fucking cold to function. I've been heating a water bottle every hour to keep my hands warm enough to type. I didn't want to spend a lot of time in town buying supplies, so spent lots of money in the convenience store around the corner instead. My head feels a little bit numb. I want to read but the books are like ice. I won't stay up beyond nine o'clock at my place. I got some of the front room tidied up. Selected a lot of stuff for tomorrow's workshop. I'm not good at present. Struggling to answer emails. I hate having the desktop computer on. I need to be at Waddington Street Centre to edit stuff because it's just too cold at home. I fucking hate winter now. I got out on the bike for an hour and that was okay but the house is total misery. I did physio, but now struggle to hold a pen. Pleased I got shaved earlier. Hope tomorrow is better. OK. 8.28pm.


Tuesday 6th January 2026

Tough day. Tried to pack for the Waddy workshop. Hot and cold flushes, headache. I tried again, but in the end thought it best just to ring in and tell them I’ve still got a head cold or flu. I still had to go out this afternoon for food supplies. And I think there is something wrong with the water tank overflow pipe at the side of the house. One more thing to be anxious about. I was in Lloyds bank about forty minutes waiting to make my National Insurance Contributions payment. I could hardly walk and felt totally drained. When I eventually got home after a bus no show, I had chicken jalfrezi and rice for tea. Then watched Saint Maud. It's a good film about religious obsession and mental illness. Initially I fell asleep and had to put it on a third time after I watched all the extras. A warm evening wrapped up on the couch. I hope the house is okay this winter. 11.14pm.


Wednesday 7th January 2026

Have cancelled the rest of the week. Coughing quite a lot at night, I spent most of the day reading How Saints Die by Carmen Marcus. Chicken dinner with veg at teatime. Out of date Christmas pudding with custard so no need for supper. Watched a Joy Division documentary this evening. Then the Lemmy documentary. Possibly nodded off but stayed warm. Did physio. OK. 11.10pm.

Thursday 8th January 2026

I'm looking forward to the end of this week when the temperature is forecast to rise considerably. I will be at Jen's place for a couple of days and will monitor how my feelings change. Mornings are worst. Aches and pains, coughing up phlegm. Fatigue despite eight hours sleep. On the plus side, I was offered a paid workshop in Newcastle, so that's something for late March. I tried to read this afternoon but kept falling asleep. This evening I watched Stephen King’s ‘Salem's Lot’ starring David Soul and James Mason. I've seen it a couple of times before. It's three hours long. Enjoyable lightweight material with the main vampire cast in the Nosferatu image. Hope I get a comfortable sleep. OK. 11.30pm.


Friday 9th January 2026

Another day just stuck in the house. I cleaned the stair carpet and that was enough to wipe me out for the rest of the day. Too tired to read. I slept till teatime. My tuna, beans and baked potato tasted foul and I couldn't finish it. I watched Black Phone on DVD this evening - a canny little horror set in 70s Denver. Ethan Hawke as the grabber who abducts kids from the local estate. Trapped in a basement shit. Great leading roles from the youngsters. Hawke wore a mask for most of the film. Not enough time to watch another full-length feature, I just stuck a Pistols documentary on for an hour. I am looking forward to reading Defying Gravity – Jordan’s story. But at present my physical health is at rock bottom. Hopefully a rise in temperature next week might help me shrug off the lurgy. OK. 11.12pm.


Saturday 10th January 2026

Up around nine. Usually I do morning pages before breakfast, but they've been very difficult this week. I had porridge before writing. I felt okay for a few hours and did a little housework. Took ages to get to Bensham. Had to double back from Consett because I thought I'd left my front door unlocked. Very tearful when I got to Jen's. Just feel totally burnt out. She got me some lentil and bacon soup. We watched some commentary on Psychoville. Then a Ray Bradbury short story adaptation. OK. 10.18pm.


Sunday 11th January 2026

Managed to get into town with Jenni this afternoon for supplies. Bitterly cold. Then it was fun seeing Jenni turn her room upside down in search of a hiking boot. Later, we went to Tyneside Cinema to see the old classic Theatre of Blood starring Vincent Price. Most people there, if not all, knew the film. It was just a treat to see it on the big screen. I felt a bit better today. Hopefully a lot warmer tomorrow. I have to go back to Consett, I think. Not sure. Watched some Masters snooker tonight. OK. 10.27pm.


Monday 12th January 2026

Up quite early with a lot of energy. The temperature considerably higher than yesterday. I got the eleven o’clock bus to Consett, checked payment dates for my earnings, bought chicken and beef steaks and other bits and pieces, then went to Moorside to wait for cousin Gordon the plumber to fit a new valve in the attic water tank. The job took about forty-five minutes and I'm grateful that a 74-year-old man would risk climbing into the attic of a freezing cold house. My coughing intensified greatly back home and I've had to concede that I need some sort of heat in the place or I’ll die an early death. Got the bus back to Bensham. Jenni prepared leek quiche with potato croquettes and Branston beans. We watched the first part of a documentary about Edgar Allan Poe. I still don't know if I'll make it to Waddington Street Centre tomorrow. I'm concerned more about other people's health than mine. OK. 11.23pm.


Tuesday 13th January 2026

Felt a lot better today. Up by eight and showered. Had banana on toast for breakfast then did some morning pages. Got a shave then packed for Waddy. Good to get there without coughing my guts up. The session went well but was basically just a little warm up: first times, origins of writing journeys, etc. it was good to see the Waddy Writers and the staff. Bus back to Gateshead was a bit slow. Tried to read more of Carmen Marcus's novel. Back in Gateshead, the cold air had me coughing my guts up again. This evening we watched the rest of the Edgar Allan Poe documentary and a couple of episodes of Minder. OK. 11.21pm.


Wednesday 14th January 2026

Today was disappointing. I had some laughs with Jenni this morning but found the rest of the day to be draining. I didn't really engage well with the workshop at Waddington Street Centre. Josie and Carmen were lovely, but I found translating random words into collaged postcard designs quite difficult. I've been coughing my guts up again. The cold air in the cold house is to blame. I will probably have to bite the bullet and buy a portable heater. I had a chat with Waddy staff. Basically, I just can't follow anyone's lead. My brain shuts down. I've had over three decades of living alone. And twenty-five years with no boss. And I fucking hate 90% of lifelong chores as well. I can't see me ever going back to a proper job. I watched Stephen King's 'Misery' tonight. Excellent! 11.29pm.


Thursday 15th January 2026

Better day. Huge lie-in till after ten. Wrote some horrible morning pages that I resisted posting online. I might use them in a book at some point. Ate fruit salad porridge for breakfast. Made up a new morning pages book for the second half of this month. After oxtail soup, I read about one hundred pages of How Saints Die. Some lovely poetic vignettes and dramatic narrative. I still have about twenty-five pages to read but needed to take a breather. I listened to the BBC Radio 6 programme ‘David Bowie Forever’ in which Lauren Laverne and Henry Rollins discussed the impact of Bowie’s music on their lives. Some great tracks including Gail Ann Darcy dueting on Under Pressure. Also some Iggy and Lou Reed collaborations, and ending on I Can't Give Everything Away from the Black Star album. I saw Hank do spoken word in Newcastle when Bowie died. He retold the 2007 Bowie lunch story on the radio. OK. 11.45pm.


Friday 16th January 2026

A lot of prose poetry seeped out of my pen this morning. I tidied up the best bits and posted them online this afternoon. Slow burn. The stuff of mine I like the most is the confessional stuff, not the throw away cartoonish verse that makes people laugh. Tonight I played back Bristol Flash Fiction Festival’s epic three-hour Kathy Fish workshop from last July. So chuffed with the feedback she gave me. I've made more notes and printed out the key texts from the session and will do a version of it next week at Waddington Street Centre. I mean, why not, it cost me fifty quid, plus travel and accommodation. I've held up quite well today. About fourteen hours. OK. 11.30pm.


Saturday 17th January 2026

Good to get some notebooks up to date and a load of workshop material ready for next week. Good shave with my last blade. Then a walk into town. Me and Jenni watched Judd trump and John Higgins in a Masters snooker semi-final. Then Kyren Wilson against Wu Yize in the other semi. Wilson took it without Wu even getting a single point in the final frame. OK. 11.20pm.


Sunday 18th January 2026

Big lie-in till ten o'clock. Morning pages. Banana on toast. Then a walk into Gateshead for supplies. Much of today spent watching the Masters snooker final on television live from Ally Pally. John Higgins struggled to keep up with Kyren Wilson and lost out by a few frames. Jenny is watching Schindler's List. A good reminder of what utter cunts the Nazis were. And all those who think like them today. 10.54pm.


Monday 19th January 2026

Another big lie-in because me and Jenni stayed up till quarter to two watching the truly chilling Schindler's List. I've seen it a few times now and it seems more hard-hitting in light of recent world events. But you still probably couldn't convince me to fire a gun at a foreigner coz some politician told me to. I'm more likely to shoot the person forcing me to pick up the gun. I've always hated war mentality. But then again, humans are pathetically overrated as a species anyway; you’d think people would have grown out of international conflict by now. Fuck WWIII. And all those salivating at the thought of it. Me and Jenni watched Little House on the Prairie and The Waltons. I slept on the bus back to Consett. Chicken Jalfrezi and rice for tea. This evening I did final prep for tomorrow's workshop then read a little bit of ‘Defying Gravity’ - Jordan Mooney's story co-authored by Cathi Unsworth. Bed early. OK. 10.25pm.


Tuesday 20th January 2026

The workshop was okay but only two writers in. I used some KM Elkes flash fiction and four exercises from the Kathy Fish workshop from last July’s Bristol Flash Fiction Festival. Breathless paragraphs, anaphora - a lot of it is like poetry to me. Some days I get tired of trying to tease a good poem or vignette from my brain. Most of my best pieces are flukes. I never know what I'm going to end up with, and can't replicate the process to get another good result. I might get one good piece from an exercise, then with each subsequent attempt the result seems diluted, contrived, and utterly disposable. Most days I feel like a fraud. A lot of days this year I've wanted to jack it all in but I've got nothing to fall back on. I mainly use writing as catharsis and often can't be arsed to go beyond my (dis) comfort zone. 10.46pm.


Wednesday 21st January 2026

Another long day of feeling useless. Another reminder that I know fuck all about fiction. Too self-absorbed. Too lacking in interest in others. Not enough empathy. I came away from Carmen’s workshop feeling totally impotent as a writer. It made me want to jack in writing altogether. I am a one-trick pony who thought the grass was greener on the other side, and it isn’t. I don’t know why I keep trying to be other than what I am. Currently, I just spew whatever comes naturally and pick the bones out of it. Teacher? Facilitator? Talk about shooting yourself in the foot. Talk about professional suicide. If I stop writing, I’m just a spent old man staring into the abyss. Today made me want to stop writing, stop facilitating and stop hosting Poetry Jam. Carmen was great. I am not. 11.20pm.


Thursday 22nd January 2026

Good to get Poetry Jam publicity out today. I wrote a letter to Waddy coz I was asked how yesterday went for me. The letter was cathartic. But might set off alarm bells about my state of mind. Tonight I listened to Suede’s ‘Antidepressants’ album and a bit of ‘Autofiction’. I read a bunch of Damian Dressick’s short stories from ‘Fables of the Deconstruction’ – which he signed for me after his workshop in Bristol last year. I’ve eaten steamed potatoes, carrots and broccoli, with mushrooms and a beef medallion steak. Shaved. Knocked off at the desktop computer by quarter to ten. I need to be up very early to get out for the Washington workshop. I hope it goes well. Basically a repeat of exercises I did on Tuesday. I remembered to do physio tonight. OK. 9.53pm.


Friday 23rd January 2026

Today was better. Session at Washington went well. And why shouldn’t it? All the exercises were shown to me at Bristol Flash Fiction Festival last summer. Big thanks to the writers for engaging. Big thanks to Alwyn Bathan for the lift to Metro Centre. I didn’t want to go home because I didn’t trust buses to get me back out again tonight, so I just hung around in The Works and HMV then went to Consett for steak pie and chips, which I ate in a cold doorway as the rain came slanting down. Then I sat in Wetherspoons, going over material for tonight’s open mic. For Better or Verse was great. First time I’ve seen the brilliant Cat Bell perform. Open mic was good. Aaron Wright had all his props and anarchy poetry to close the night after kindly talking me through formatting for print-on-demand paperbacks. Thanks Mel and Steve Wood. OK. 11.25pm.


Saturday 24th January 2026

Took till midday to sort the bag-pack for a weekend in Gateshead. Left Consett at quarter past three. Slept quite a while on the bus. Me and Jenni watched the new Nuremberg film. Good riddance fucking Nazi scum. I’m a bit tired. Raging tinnitus. But I’m warm in the attic at the big house and Jenni is lovely company. OK. 11.26pm.


Sunday 25th January 2026

Guess who’s fifty-six. Jenni bought me a new mobile device, Rob Auton tickets, a calendar, a Withnail & I script book, and a Wednesday Adams keyring. Jenni made a lush curry for dinner. We watched an ace Sean Hughes tribute gig online, in which his celeb mates read his poems and prose to a pub basement audience. Jen’s mam and John got me stationery, chocolates and nuts. Mam and Ernie sent a lovely card and cheque. Thanks to all my Facebook friends who got in touch with well wishes. Me and Jenni watched a music documentary on 70s rockers Argent (Kiss covered their God Gave Rock and Roll to You). OK. 10.17pm.


Monday 26th January 2026

Just got sick of all the bastard clutter so piles of workshop handouts from last year are now in the wheelie bin. I’ll get rid of more later in the week. If it’s not in a notebook or a folder, it’s going in the bin! I have about twenty years of clutter to get rid of. The desktop computer’s Outlook email system won’t fucking open. But at least I got train tickets to York and back booked for next month and can access via the new mobile device that Jenni bought and set up for me. Tonight I keyed in some Waddy writers’ poems. Enough stuff for a 40-page pamphlet anthology. OK. 11.30pm.


Tuesday 27th January 2026

Ratty mood this morning and the weather didn’t help. Pools of water on the bus to Durham. I read through a bunch of 2019 writing marathon pieces and liked a lot of them. There may be potential for a series of vignettes in the September Scrapbook format. Had a chat with Waddy staff about mental health and creativity, then photocopied pages of poems for a potential new anthology. Workshop after dinner went quite well. We had a new participant, so I did a standard taster session. This evening me and Jenni saw Bill Bailey in conversation with Dave Johns for Desert Island Flicks. Quite a few bizarre choices from Bill that we’d like to check out. Walked back from Tyneside Cinema to get supplies in Gateshead Tesco. Banana on peshwari for supper. Then watched brilliant North-East comedian Louise Young totally storming it on Live at the Apollo. OK. 11.01pm.


Wednesday 28th January 2026

Good day. Up early at Jen’s place. Did my pages and checked the buses. Set off just before ten from Bensham then got X21 to Durham. Keyed in some flash fiction stuff from marathon books and chatted with a volunteer facilitator about music. He is going to see Suede in Newcastle. I’m going to see them the week before in York (fingers crossed with Pro earplugs). Carmen and Josie’s workshop was good. An advanced version of an I Am poem. Discussions about process and graphics, and help to come up with a visual presentation of my latest words. Tonight I had a chicken dinner then fell asleep. I read some Kathy Fish flash fiction then watched a video of her doing a mini workshop. (I remember/I don’t remember/tomorrow... with random feed-in words and phrases). Kathy read a great story about a grocery store hold-up. I did my physio and will be in bed around midnight. 11.51pm.


Thursday 29th January 2026

Pleased to be able to edit a load of prose on the new mobile device via Word. It’s much better in winter to be able to use a handheld device rather than be tied to the desktop computer. One degree here in Moorside. I should have bought the heater, but I’ve felt okay for a week now, as far as temperature goes. This morning I did a stocktake of the 2023 pamphlets. I’m mostly down to ones and twos and need to replenish. I tried watching some DVDs this evening but the player wouldn’t read anything properly. My ears are ringing. I haven’t bought proper concert plugs yet. I keep feeling anxious about everything. I’m fearful of how things might be next year. I feel useless a lot of the time. 10.39pm.


Friday 30th January 2026

Winter is making work really difficult. I don’t seem to be making much progress. The house is a mess, I’m tired all the time, and feel a bit lost. Today I was out at the funeral of an ex-neighbour from Bridgehill. George Devanney was a good man and loved by many. I spoke briefly to Peter and Joan after the service but didn’t stay long. Tonight, after failing to purchase good ear plugs, I mostly scrolled social media, watched bike videos and live Suede tracks. I’m hoping to see Suede in York next weekend. This winter is really messing me up. Low motivation. Must try harder tomorrow. 10.55pm.


Saturday 31st January 2026

Okay, last one, then we can say Good Riddance to this awful month.
   I tried to keep a little fictional thread running yesterday morning, but it just reads at best like autobiography displaced to third person, and at worst like very loose jottings towards a narrative that doesn’t really go anywhere. Three pages could be summed up by saying: the character reluctantly goes out in the rain to catch a bus, thumbs a free newspaper onboard, anxiously needs the toilet, and goes to Wetherspoons before posting an important document. Three pages. That’s literally all that happens.
   When I try to write long form, it comes out like I’m trying to emulate Samuel Beckett’s novel style – even though I don’t read Samuel Beckett these days because I don’t have to - having seen three generations of Urwin living like Beckett characters out of necessity, not artistic choice.
   I might try reading Franz Kafka and Paul Auster again. But in terms of my own writing, it’s probably best to just stick with the mini vignettes, free verse and journal entries.
   I tried to get concert-quality earplugs at Boots in Eldon Square yesterday, but was told they only sell them online. A guy in HMV said Loop are the best brand. They cut out seventeen decibels of noise. Hopefully enough to allow me to enjoy the Suede gig in York next Saturday without further damage. I’ll order some when I put the desktop computer on this afternoon.
   Tomorrow afternoon, I aim to be at the Together Lounge in Consett for Lorraine Weightman’s book launch. Her debut novel is called Good Company. The event starts at 2.00pm.
   I don’t know if I’m going to Jen’s. I still have a Washington workshop to prep for next Friday, but could possibly sort it on Thursday. I need to tweak my set-lists for next month’s library readings in Bowburn and Consett.
   I’ve struggled to do much this last couple of weeks. I just seem to be looking forward to better days. I didn’t do physio last night, so I should get it out of the way this morning.
   I need to recharge batteries for the pocket camcorder. Jenni says the new mobile has an ace camera on it - but I don’t want to use it for Poetry Jam. I like my old Kodak grainy archive-looking stills from video. But they take ages to edit and upload.
   I keep having moments when I can’t be bothered to attempt anything. My personal motivation is at an all-time low.
   I think I’ve got too much backlog. I should just work through my notebooks and publish the best of what I’ve produced in the last fifteen to twenty years.
   I’ve already had banana on toast for breakfast, so now I suppose I should just crack on. 9.27am.

DECEMBER

Monday 1st December 2025

Cold downstairs today, but warm upstairs this evening. I didn't use last week's prepared workshop, so I've got that for tomorrow. My P45 arrived in the post from New College Durham. Saying yes to working for them was one of the smartest moves I made. Resigning before things got unmanageable was also one of the smartest moves I made. This morning, I upped the weight on my physio by 125%. I managed the reps, but reckon I'm overdoing it and should ease back to about 60% increase and stay with it till Christmas… There are dozens of gaps to fill in my diary. Fingers crossed, I can find all the stray entries in notebooks and the time to copy them up. Big protein intake today. About 120 grams. Tuna and chicken. 11.33pm.


Tuesday 2nd December 2025

Today's Waddington Street Centre writing workshop went well. We used unexpected starts to stories, letters to strangers, and read a poem called 'Chewed Mittens' by Dorothy Nelson with analysis by Alison Chisholm. We wrote absurd character sketches based on the NaPoWriMo exercise Burt Reynolds. Mine was about Raffles AKA Anthony Valentine… I bought groceries in Durham and was home by quarter to five. I had baked beans and hot salad with grilled beef steak… Tonight I uploaded Poetry Jam pics and made a promo photo album for Joan Johnston's pamphlet, The Lay-by. I finished the night with shoulder exercises. More weight than last week, but not as much as I tried yesterday. One heavier exercise is okay. But not a full session. OK. 11.53pm.


Wednesday 3rd December 2025

A day off to buy stuff online for other people and ride the bike. I went down by the River Derwent, along to the pump house, up the gravel path towards Stinky Burn, then over the old slag heaps. I crossed the main road and carried on, made a right turn on the cycle path then over the Hownsgill viaduct. I kept going past Rowley and out near Castleside. Further on, I took another right, down a steep hill, and up the other side through the woods to Muggleswick, then on to Edmundbyers. I missed out the Derwent Reservoir, rode down the A68 to Allensford, then through woods to the pump house, and up to Consett for two jars of pickled shallots from Barry’s Bargain Superstore… I ate chicken and curried beans with baked potato for tea… I ordered a ticket to see Jarboe (ex-Swans) next May. I hope it’s a better set than last time… I bought some Christmas presents and some toner cartridges. I printed out a Jessie Lynn McMain's zine. Ate lots of peanuts and sultanas. 11.42pm.


Thursday 4th December 2025

Really tired. Didn't want to do much of anything. Didn't get out of the house until half two. Bus was late. Got to Durham about 20 to 4 this afternoon. Went into town for sweet mince pies for Poetry Jam. Bought some tuna as well. A new boiler is being installed in the Waddy kitchen, so Dave Boyd showed me how to use the temporary alternative. Took about 40 minutes to set up the room. Managed to lift chairs okay with dodgy bicep, but aching a bit afterwards. We had over 20 people in the lounge tonight. All the guests were great, all could have been headliners. Annie Moir had some flirty food poetry and well-wishes for bookish souls. Gary the Hat addressed the rights and wrongs of the world in punk rhyme. Elaine Cusack did new poems from her University course. She graduates tomorrow. Great open floor readers: Tony Gadd, Aaron Wright, Ian Martin, Ian Hart, Ivy Hudson, amongst others. Took me over an hour to clear up afterwards. I'm still at Waddy now. No bus till after eleven. OK. 10.55pm.

Friday 5th December 2025

Woke up feeling okay and chuffed to see a decent forecast for the day right up until dusk. I did morning pages and physio, then rang Waddy about the cash tin keys, which I accidentally left in my pocket. I was told there are spares so it’s okay just to return on Tuesday. Yet another absent-minded episode. My memory is shit. I remember very little incoming data. But can spew out my own self-generated bile quite easily… This afternoon I rode the Rockhopper bike along some gloopy trails, then over to High Spen via Chopwell. Then back to Consett via the Derwent Walk… Tonight I got my work log and gratitude journals up to date, but my main diary has over 100 blanks to copy up from stray notebooks. I'll have to do four a day to complete the book by Christmas. 11.18pm.


Saturday 6th December 2025

Mornings are difficult these days. It's about eleven before I finish exercises, physical and mental, to keep me feeling reasonably okay. I went out at midday to start Christmas shopping and get food supplies. Eight and a half hours later, I put away the last of my tinned goods. Then tallied the financial damage. I'm spending over twice as much on food as five years ago. Arms aching from lugging stuff about. Pleased to be done with it for today. OK. 11.24pm.

Sunday 7th December 2025

Wrote a new eight-page poem this morning called December. I'll hold it back for a few months at least. Might release it as a limited-edition monograph. This afternoon, I made up notebooks for Tuesday's writing half-marathon. All the prompts are ready. Must buy new biros tomorrow. Ate a lot of chicken today. Stayed up later than intended. OK. 11.16pm.


Monday 8th December 2025

Today I got out on the bike for about an hour and a half, then got ready to go into Newcastle for festive shopping. It was surprisingly quiet. I got quite a lot done without getting stressed. I didn't get home till half seven. Had a big chicken and hot salad curry meal again. I've eaten way too many peanuts and sultanas… My left arm has been giving me jip all day. I'm considering getting back in touch with the physiotherapist. I think I've pulled or torn something else in my shoulder. I might leave it a couple of days… Today I bought a copy of "The Shit Ov God" by Polish extreme metal band Behemoth in a two-CDs-for-16-quid offer with an Alice Cooper Christmas gift purchase. 11.39pm.


Tuesday 9th December 2025

The weather was canny rotten this morning, so I'm chuffed that people made it down to Waddy for the half-marathon. We got through ten rounds of writing. It flowed well and everyone got some good stuff. I came straight home afterwards. I had a big beef steak with baked potato and pottage for tea. Then selected pamphlets for a little version of Jolabokaflod for the Friday writers. I did some copy-ups as well. Then watched A DARK SONG. A two-hander horror film recommended by Stephen Clark. It's about a woman seeking revenge for the murder of her son. She employs an occultist to help her perform the Abramelin ritual to invoke her guardian angel. It's quite slow, sinister, and very well done. Nothing like a Hollywood big-budget horror. Enjoyed it even more than Hereditary. 11.43pm.


Wednesday 10th December 2025

Out the house ten hours and only managed to buy three gifts for Christmas. Not really pleased with any of my purchases. The bus from Consett was late tonight, so I didn't get home till well after seven. I intended to do a lot of work. I intended to be home by about five. Good intentions shot to shit. I don't like December. I don't want to participate in the festive season ever again. I told Jenni this, and she seems to think the same. She bought us tickets to see Bill Bailey talk about his favourite films at Tyneside Cinema next January. I am keen to see more films in a similar vein to A Dark Song, which I thought was excellent. I saw lots of things I'd like to buy today. But nothing suitable for relatives. 11.29pm.


Thursday 11th December 2025

I don't like using telephones. I script my words for important calls. This morning, I was all set to speak when, to my annoyance, I found the landline to be dead. Luckily, after a bit of panic, I was able to go and deal with things in person. I bought a new phone, but the line is still dead – yet the internet works fine. I've been too busy to report a fault. I'll do it next week. I don't like using telephones. I mostly communicate via the internet. I got an email from Durham County Libraries inviting me to read at next year's Local Author Festival. I am well up for that. I will check my availability and get back to them early next week. Meanwhile, my final 2025 session with Washington Writers is all prepped. Half Marathon plus gifts and mince pies. Should be good. I'm all packed up, I've shaved, just need a good sleep. Hope tomorrow goes well. OK.10.53pm.


Friday 12th December 2025

Good turnout at Arts Centre Washington this lunchtime for our final writing workshop. A half-marathon. All the writers produced good stuff. Thanks to Kay and Alwyn for the Christmas gifts. I had a good time after the session at Waddington Street Centre for the party in the lounge. The buffet was amazing. I did karaoke on four songs with staff: Bo-Rap, 500 miles, Don't Stop Believin' and Hallelujah. Tony Gadd dropped by and kindly gave me a lift to Consett for the final "For Better Or Verse". No headliners this month but lots of open floor stuff. James Oates, Tony Gadd, Jenni Pascoe, Lorraine Weightman, David Rutherford, and lots more. Enjoyed lots of food. Thanks to Steve Wood and Melanie Bowman. I'm going to have to starve myself for the next few days. I need to get my landline sorted soon. I'm very tired now. Don't want to do much tomorrow. OK. 11.53pm.


Saturday 13th December 2025

Awake before eight. Listened to a few versions of Hallelujah after murdering it on karaoke last night at Waddington Street Centre. Rode for three hours on the old Rockhopper bike this afternoon: down the Derwent Walk to Rowlands Gill, up by Tesco on Station Road, then through High Spen and Chopwell. Then home via Ebchester and Shotley Bridge, and through the Grove wood. Admin for work, physio, then out to Jen's. OK. 10.52pm.


Sunday 14th December 2025

Up early to get stuff together for this afternoon’s ‘Quite Quiet’ gig at Tiny Toad in Heaton with Jonjo, Pabs and Co. Jenni came along and did a couple of poems as well. Tonight, we watched ‘The Holdover’ – a film set in an early seventies American private school over the Christmas holidays. Jenny ordered a big pizza with chips and onion rings. Now there's a ‘Thirty Best Ronnie Corbett Moments’ programme on TV. OK. 10.03pm.


Monday 15th December 2025

Listened to Vernon Kay Show on Radio 2 with Jenni. Shaved, got stuff together and out to Newcastle. I bought more fancy biscuits to give as gifts. I managed to get a few more things in Consett Tesco. Ate tuna and curried beans with baked potato for tea. Made up a new morning pages notebook and wrapped up a couple of things for Waddy. Only four cards to write for tomorrow. Ate lots of peanuts today. No Over Fifties exercises for nearly a week. I'll be pleased when Christmas is over. OK. 11.10pm.


Tuesday 16th December 2025

Pleased to reach the end of my workshops. Repeated a few things from earlier in the year. We did daisy chains. We did 30 one-liners, like Joe Brainard. We did 10 images from the last 24 hours in 10 minutes. We did readarounds of Marathon work. And we looked at research tips for haunted-house writing (ghosts of Christmas and all). On the way home, I stopped off at Tesco for more Christmas presents, then I had a lush hot chicken salad with baked potato. Checked the presents, then back out to Consett for more. I did my Over Fifties exercise. Will do physio just before bed. OK. 11.33pm.


Wednesday 17th December 2025

A long day in which I got little done. I copied up some gaps in the diary, but lots more to do. Spoke to Mam on the phone. Then went out to town this afternoon. Spent another fifty-five quid or so. Think I've got all the stuff needed for family. I wanted to read this evening but fell asleep on the couch for an hour. Increased the weight on my physio exercises by a mere 100 grams. Bigger increments aggravate tendons. OK. 11.00pm.

Thursday 18th December 2025

Morning pages are getting harder and harder to write these days. Still eating tuna, banana, pickled shallots and sultanas for breakfast. But don't do physio until late evening. Today I had a short ride up to Blackhill and Consett, then through Knitsley and back to Castleside via the back roads. Took things easy. Didn't break a sweat. Enjoyed it. This afternoon I started the Christmas wrapping. Six hours for 17 or 18 presents and still have tags to put on them. Scrolled vid clips - politics, biketrial, The Cure, The Cult, The Mission, Motorhead, Saxon, The Banshees. Then my Over Fifties basic exercises. I'd like to read in bed but will probably just fall asleep. 10.02pm.


Friday 19th December 2025

Tagged Mam and Ernie's presents. Posted a couple of cards. Accepted BBC Upload invitation to talk in the studio on Monday. After dinner, I was out in Consett getting some supplies and a couple more presents. I talked to Jen on the phone this evening. Printed out notes for the interview and made a copy of ‘Failed Rock Star’ pamphlet for my archive. I ordered a copy of the novel How Saints Die by Carmen Marcus, who is running a Change The Story course at Waddington Street Centre next year. Oh, and I've been booked to do two gigs for the Festival of Local Authors tour in Bowburn and Consett libraries. OK. 10.46pm.


Saturday 20th December 2025

Tagged and packed Jen's presents, then went out on the Rockhopper. Tried to get a copy of Shotley Bridge Murders by Bobby Cussens at Wotnots in Shotley Bridge, but it’s sold out. Will try again after Christmas. Had baked potato with tuna and beans for tea. Walked to Consett bus station, then got a 47-bus to Jen's. Had nice spicy chips and watched the game shows. OK. 10.45pm.


Sunday 21st December 2025

In Gateshead this morning for Christmas supplies for the big house. Me and Jen had pie, mash and broccoli for a late dinner. Lebkuchen as well. Poems and karaoke tonight at Little Buildings for Cooper Robson's ‘Poetmas’ event. A good gathering of NE poets. I read Fail Satan. Me and Jen tried Barbie Girl. I wrecked Sinead O’Connor’s version of I Am Stretched on Your Grave. Jenni did an ace All That Jazz. OK. 10.43pm.


Monday 22nd December 2025

Had a good time being interviewed by Emma Millen for BBC Upload this afternoon. It was meant to be 10 minutes, but I babbled a lot, so it was closer to half an hour. She asked how I got into writing, got me to read three poems – The Dark House, Snow and Fail Satan – and talk about workshops. Afterwards, I went to HMV, Waterstones and Damaged Society. Then back to Jen’s for an hour. Fell asleep. Busy bus home – stuffed full. Discovered Ernie's birthday card, which I wrote out and placed with his present a few days ago, has disappeared. Will buy another and post it. Did physio and copy-ups. Ready for bed. 11.28pm.


Tuesday 23rd December 2025

Mam and Ernie visited today. We all went to my sister's house to deliver presents. Then I packed a big case for tomorrow’s journey to Jen’s. My guts are rumbling. Full of trapped wind. I did my Over Fifties exercises early this evening. I started to watch a horror film called ‘Saint Maud’ but fell asleep. I did, however, manage to wake up in time to see the last minute, thus spoiling it for next time. If I can get rid of this hot air, I might be able to do physio before bed. I hope the buses are running well tomorrow. OK.11.42pm.


Wednesday 24th December 2025

Woke about six. Up before seven and downstairs to do morning pages. Had my usual tuna and banana with pickled shallots and sultanas. Then out on the old Rockhopper hybrid bike. Rode over the slack heaps then back along the lane to Lydgetts Junction and along the cycle path to Rowley and home. I did some physio and extra shoulder exercises. The buses to Gateshead were fairly quiet. Got to Jen's place quite early. Dropped off some stuff then back out to Newcastle: HMV, Damaged Society and Waterstones. Bought some reduced-price bread in Heron Foods and a few things in Tesco on the way back. Watched a good Doctor Who spin-off about water pollution. Very warm tonight. 11.25pm.


Thursday 25th December 2025

It was good to just wander around Eldon Square yesterday afternoon. I'd arrived in Gateshead before two, much to Jenni 's surprise: "WHAAAAT! I've not started wrapping yet. There may be things in the room you shouldn't see." So I just went out for a few hours. The shops were open till five. Some of them, Heron Foods and Tesco, even later. So there were plenty of places to go. I checked out the horror DVDs in HMV. Still no more of the fifteen films recommended by Fangoria magazine. I reckon it'll take me a year to work through that list. And even longer for all the books I have lined up.
   HOW SAINTS DIE the novel by Carmen Marcus arrived five days early. It was hanging out the letterbox, over the doormat, when I got back from my little bike ride yesterday.
   I'm enjoying the winter cycling a lot more than I thought I would. It's actually more about just having the discipline to stick to the routine of getting into the bike clothes on a cold morning and getting the bike outside and rolling away from Moorside. The rides don't have to be epic. They just have to be regular. I managed a full physio session as well. I think the left shoulder is going to ache in cold weather now no matter what I do.
   On Tuesday, Ernie was wearing a wrist splint for driving due to arthritis. Mam says she has to wear them in bed. I dread to think what I'll need should I reach 80 years plus. I can't see it myself though.
   I had another look at Julia Cameron's Write for Life book. I am tempted, but I reckon a lot of it will be the same as The Artist's Way and The Right to Write. I'll look again before the new year starts.
   How Saints Die by Carmen Marcus will be my first attempt at reading a novel for a long time, but I’ll try to stick with it coz I want to familiarise myself with some of her work while she's facilitating with Josie Brookes at Waddington Street Centre for six weeks.
   One of the things they are focusing on is junk journals – which are pretty close to perzines. So I'll be sure to take Julia Eff, Jessie Lynn McMains and Trace Ramsay publications to the first session, which is the day after my first workshop of the year with Waddy writers.
   I think I'll use some ‘personal zine’ examples in my workshop. And maybe a few pages from Henry Rollins Talks which is the book that got me into journaling in the first place. I could gather all my 2025 notebooks and photograph the pile. I could photograph the 12 pamphlets in 12 months from 2023. And I could take the opening pages from Post Office by Charles Bukowski and some poems from Burning in Water, Drowning in Flame, as well as a couple of vignettes by Joolz Denby, and Holiday on Death Row by Roger McGough. I will take a bunch of warm-up exercises and look at the format of a perzine, including fodder graphics. I'd like to show how zine culture has permeated conventional publishing. I should have taken photos of the recipe spreads in the little kids' witchcraft book I bought for Jen's mam. I'm sure I can find other examples. The cover of Black Coffee Blues by Rollins in the Virgin Books edition, perhaps. I might take in my deluxe Anomalies as well. All of this for the first session back? And I could take my first handmade book There Are Easier Ways of Living than Bleeding to Death. And Exile magazine that contains The Milk Bottle, my first ever published piece. That magazine, coincidentally, was based in Saltburn where Carmen lives.
   The big house is very quiet. I went downstairs to fill the five-litre water bottle for the day and couldn't hear any movement on the middle or ground floors. When I passed through the huge living room to the kitchen, all the bags of presents from around the tree had gone. Jen said people were heading out early. As I write this, sat on a black drawstring bag on the attic landing, I think I can hear voices from the floor below. For some, the big day hasn't yet started in the big house. Jenni is still asleep. I am in the mood to go out for a walk around the block for ten minutes or so.
   Many years ago, when I was very focused on biketrial, I did a stretch of one hundred and eighteen days without fail on my Saracen MAD trials bike. Even on Christmas morning, staying at my mam's house in Bishop Auckland, I was up before dawn and dressed to ride. I went down to the town centre and hopped about on some huge concrete blocks edging a car park off the main high street.
   A few weeks later, after months of sub-zero morning training sessions, my MAD frame cracked at the seat stays. Luckily, my Zoo Pitbull frame and fork were on the way.
   I loved those early starts on the bike. Now, I wake with multiple aches. But can still get out on local trails. I can still form sentences on paper. I am fairly optimistic about the future.
   Have a good one. OK. 9.42am.


Friday 26th December 2025

I read most of ‘Get Over Yourself’ poems by Leanne Moden this morning. Me and Jenni had spicy chips in pitta bread pockets. Only a couple of shops were open this afternoon. Bought a few supplies in Tesco but forgot the peanuts. We had Christmas pudding with vanilla custard for tea. Spoke to Mam and Ernie on the phone. Watched Big Fat Quiz of the Year and other game shows. Cheese and crackers for snacks. Then banana on toast for supper. Hope I haven't gained much weight. Tomorrow I might buy a new diary. OK. 11.24pm.


Saturday 27th December 2025

Me and Jenni took another walk into town this afternoon. Got a decent black t-shirt for £1.50. Replenished the peanut supplies. We were going to watch some episodes of Hammer House of Horror this evening. But the Elvis film came on, and we got interested in it. Very engaging. Gave me a better opinion of him as a recording artist. Then two Christmas episodes of Inside No 9. OK. 11.25pm.


Sunday 28th December 2025

Me and Jenni listened to Paddy McGuiness on Radio Two then Elaine Paige. Had a mega Sunday dinner delivered then I got the 47-bus back to Consett. More supplies in Tesco then a walk to Moorside. Copy-ups and key-ins. Read a load of Motorhead tributes and ate fruit salad porridge. Did a bit of physio and will try to read in bed. 9.22pm.

Monday 29th December 2025

At the desktop computer most of the day trying to clear the backlog. Major stotting headache. Sickly stomach. Migraine, I reckon. Had to knock off and lie down for an hour this evening. Today was my first full day back in the fridge in Moorside after the substantial warmth of Jen’s Den in the attic in Bensham. Two thermal tops. Two fleeces. Three pairs of trousers and a skullcap. Plus a hot water bottle, reheated every hour, to put on my lap and keep the fingers functioning at the keyboard. Been listening to Motorhead albums back-to-back: Overkill, Ace of Spades, Iron Fist, Another Perfect Day, Orgasmatron, Kiss of Death and Bad Magic. I posted the lyrics to Orgasmatron on Facebook using Lemmy’s full Sunday name. I’m off to bed soon, with hopes of getting out on a bike for a couple of hours tomorrow before doing the tax return. 9.41pm.

Tuesday 30th December 2025

First winter ride in the rain this morning. Only a bit of drizzle really. And it wasn’t bad for long. Just an hour over the slag heaps and around by Knitsley. Made up a new morning pages notebook and spent a few hours number crunching for my self-assessment tax return. This evening, I watched a Motorhead documentary. Part of me just wants to jack everything in and hibernate till springtime. What do I want right now? I’d like the strength and energy of my mid-thirties. But those days aren’t coming back. Oh well, enough for today. OK. 10.21pm.

Wednesday 31st December 2025

Since infancy, I’ve preferred my own company. I remember going into the bathroom back in Bridgehill and thinking, I could live in a space not much bigger than this. Ironically, it’s my girlfriend Jenni who lives in a single room while I reside in a two-up, two-down with my stuff scattered all over the place.
   Right now, I’m downstairs before daylight. Used rolls of wrapping paper still litter the floor. Scores of books are stacked against the side of the settee. Rows of DVDs line one wall, either side of a broken stereo that I’ve owned for over three decades. A big music fan, but no great sound system.
   I don’t really have a lot to say. December is always a hard month. With or without workshops, just getting through the festivities unscathed is a major feat. I feel a bit run-down. Every year, I say never again. I don’t like being forced to do things against my will. The body rebels. Tells me to tell the world to leave the fuck alone. I’m lucky, I seem to get my own way a lot of the time.
   As the year draws to a close, I wonder if I’m doing things right. I wonder if biking is worth the hernia and the torn bicep. I wonder if hours at the computer are worth the eyestrain. I wonder if all the sacrifices made to put pen to paper have been in vain. Then I think about getting up at half past six, five days a week, to go to a grey concrete-floored breezeblock building for over a decade and ending up in a psychiatric ward. Half a lifetime ago. Do I want to go back to the straight blue-collar world of fetch me, carry me? Do I think my damaged brain could cope with eight-hour days in a busy office? The answer to both is, of course, no. 

   I do what I can. I’ve helped some people along the way, made use of my skills – crafting, organising, inspiring – but I’m not really a people person. I don’t do well in group situations. Not for long anyway.
   Some of these words are written in a contrived way. I want to finish the blog before I go out for the day. I have to make myself presentable again. I often forget to check the mirror. I languish in layers way past their best. No-one visits cellar twelve. And why would they? Who wants to sit in a cold box with no television, no conversation? Jenni and I get along well, spark off each other. But with most people, I run out of steam in about five minutes. I don’t have a lot to say. I write about a quarter of a million words a year. I share less than about forty thousand. Only a fraction of those are worth the journey. So I’m always chuffed to get responses to my blog posts. I don’t set out to write full essays for Scribbles from the Brink of Inertia. I take the word Blog literally. Short for web log. An online logbook, not a beautifully crafted piece of prose. Just clipped reportage most of the time. Self-indulgent. It serves its purpose.
   I have quite a bit to look forward to in 2026: celebrity talks about cinema; the history of witchcraft; a BBC Upload interview with Emma Millen recorded on 23rd December goes out on Saturday 3rd January; a couple of acoustic concerts from one of my favourite stage performers whose records I first heard in childhood... I’ve got a couple of Meet the Author gigs with Durham Libraries booked for February. I’m making a couple of anthologies for Washington Writers and Waddington Street Writers. And I have four book projects of my own to grapple with. 

   But today I am a bit slow.
   In a little while, I’ll get my tuna and banana with pickled shallots and sultanas for breakfast. I’ll boot up the desktop computer and upload my final post of 2025 to social media. Connecting with the world from a safe distance. I don’t have a lot to say. And yet here we are. The empty can rattles the most, said a famous heavy metal vocalist. But me, I’m running out of steam.
   I’m not really making any New Year's resolutions. Recently I’ve been drawn once again to dark fantasy fiction and film. I have a couple of lists of horror films I’d like to see in 2026, if possible. And the amount of stuff I’d like to read is ridiculous. I’m still doing my physio and other physical exercises and hope the left arm holds up so I can go trail-trundling in local woods on my Sonder Frontier adventure bike come springtime. But there are no plans to do any multi-day road rides over the next twelve months. I might do daytrips to places of local historical interest. Myths and folklore – I’ll probably be engaging with that sort of stuff. And I’d like to devour all the flash fiction bought at the Bristol festival last July.
   I’m running out of space now. I’ve had a good year, despite a few setbacks. Hope the next one is okay.
   All the best in your endeavours for 2026. Thanks for reading. OK. 7.28am.