OCTOBER

Thursday 1st October 2026

About a dozen people were at the Durham Clayport Library gig this afternoon. Jenni and I did head-to-head poems, then invited others to read. Later, I set up at Waddington Street Centre for Poetry Jam. We had about twenty people there. Really enjoyed Stuart Rochester's set. Dark, lyrical, drenched in emotional bleakness. One of the finest first-guest sets, in my opinion, of any Jam over the last seventeen years. Joan Johnston did a career-spanning set and was on good form, including work from Orange for the Sun, An Overtaking, and her new pamphlet The Lay-By. Tom Kelly's set was shorter than previous visits, possibly because we were running late. I read my little Wonder poem, and dedicated ‘Fail Satan’ to VENOM’s Conrad ‘Cronos’ Lant, whose death was announced on social media late this afternoon. Tributes to the Geordie metaller have been flowing in across social media. Rest in Power, Conrad. OK. 11.34pm.

Friday 2nd October 2026

I wrote setlist notes in morning pages for tonight's gig. I really wanted to ride the bike today but had to go into town to buy food supplies. Cheap bread to fill the new freezer compartments, plus a load of fruit and veg. Pleased I phoned Mam and Ernie; they are going on holiday tomorrow for a fortnight. Too tired on the bus to Tyneside to read Kate Ireland’s ADAPTIVE STRATEGIES FOR A SENSITIVE SYSTEM poetry collection but will try again in a day or two. I enjoyed my set at Station East tonight. The event was hosted by Mel Chilekwa with some excellent turns, including Penny Blackburn, Thom Robson, Jenni Pascoe, Aaron Wright and several musical performers new to me. Jenni and I got quite wet walking back to Bensham. OK. 11.50pm.


Saturday 3rd October 2026

Wrote about one hundred lines for morning pages. I read some bits of Kate Ireland's ADAPTIVE STRATEGIES FOR A SENSITIVE SYSTEM. I've been really knackered and eaten scraps for meals because we didn't go out today. Watched a few TV game shows, but that's all. Ready for bed. OK. 10.48pm.


Sunday 4th October 2026

Had a big dream that seemed like a full narrative arc. But written down, the prose appeared vague and open-ended. Jenni and I went out to buy food, then watched television. Ate four pork pies, a couple of apple rounds, and some country slices. Read more Kate Ireland poetry on the 47 bus back to Consett. OK. 10.22pm.


Monday 5th October 2026

Ticked off most of the tasks on my to-do list by nine this evening. I've tweaked the Failed Rock Star and The Perfect Opportunity files in hopes that standard margins top and bottom will work on the new Waddy printer. Listened to Calm Before The Storm by Venom featuring Jim Clare from Consett on guitar. Then I watched a few Venom documentaries. I’ve been very lethargic of late. Didn't get out on the bike. And probably won't until Wednesday or Thursday. I need to focus on my book and the Washington Anthology. I might try to come up with cover designs in the next few days. I have lots to do before my hernia operation on 21st October. 11.10pm.


Tuesday 6th October 2026

Pleased to get a canny turnout for the Waddy workshop this afternoon; a good run through the new package of exercises which I will use again at Washington next month. I watched quite a lot of Simon Armitage footage on YouTube this evening. He is very fastidious about making poems. I don't think all poets work the way he does. My best stuff comes when it wants, not when I labour over it for days on end. Most of my successes are flukes. Anyway, I listened to Pit Pony ahead of their gig in Byker this Friday, then saw some alarming stuff on socials from Trump stating that if Iran bombed California or San Diego, it would be a small price to pay. As a species, we're on the way out. OK. 11.03pm.


Wednesday 7th October 2026

Cousin Gordon was here first thing, making sure we're good to go ahead with draining off the hot water tank, radiators and sealing off pipes until I can replace the boiler. Today I got out on the Sonder bike. A little light rain and the tree roots became treacherous: I think my tyres were too hard; I didn’t ride well. Tonight I tweaked the Washington Anthology again. Almost there, but I might have to reduce the size of the text to make the pages a fair bit smaller than A5. I checked out horror writer Stephen Laws today. OK. 11.40pm.

Thursday 8th October 2026

Today was mainly taken up with the pre-op assessment at the hospital. I've been okay with the hernia for a year but will soon be out of action for up to six weeks. Fucking great. I did quite a bit of editing for the Washington Anthology. I hope to be okay in a fortnight, not six fucking weeks. OK. 10.44pm.


Friday 9th October 2026

Didn't sleep well last night. Up early to go to Arts Centre Washington. Three buses, two hours and twenty minutes, door to door. We had thirteen people in the workshop this afternoon. I'm pleased I took a full bag of tricks. We got through lots of material: warm-ups, journaling prompts, read-throughs of little poems and prose drafts; plus simile circles, mini character sketches and microfiction. Big thanks to Alwyn Bathan for the lift to Metro Centre. On the bus to Bensham, I started an online chat with Jenni and ended up in Newcastle by mistake, so I took the opportunity to buy chicken in Heron Foods. Jenni and I poked fun at Midsomer Murders for a couple of hours. Even with Jenni’s ace travel logistics, I still got lost in Byker before seeing Pit Pony at The Grove tonight. The gig was a bit disappointing. Some shows take a couple of songs for the sound levels to get evened out. Tonight's took about half the set. I was going to leave, but the second half sounded much better. I didn’t know the songs well enough to remember them. Walked back to Jen's afterwards. OK. 11.48pm.

Saturday 10th October 2026

Struggled with pages, then sat around reading bits and pieces. Had chicken and barbecue beans for dinner. I went into Gateshead this afternoon. Saw Alice Cooper's memoir 'Devil on My Shoulder' in Tesco. I bought a Halloween edition of SFX magazine and a Goth edition of Vive le Rock magazine. Fell asleep a lot this evening. OK. 10.58pm.


Sunday 11th October 2026

I seem to be writing a lot more in morning pages these days. Up to 1,250 words per entry. I'm confident I can stitch some publishable narratives together in the coming months. Jenni and I saw the Neil Tennant Q&A at Tyneside Cinema with screenings of It Couldn't Happen Here and Battleship Potemkin, the latter with a score by the Pet Shop Boys. OK. 10.46pm.


Monday 12th October 2026

Bought a new wheelie case and a pair of slippers on the way home this morning, in case I need to stay overnight in hospital next week – only to be informed that my operation can't go ahead. Apologies, and we hope to reschedule in the not-too-distant future. It took a few hours to calm down before I could get on with my workshop prep, so I ended up working past eleven this evening, making handouts of the stories I'll be using in a free workshop at Waddington Street Centre tomorrow afternoon. I expected to be proofreading for Washington Writers this evening, but I’ll have to make more time on Wednesday and Thursday. I don't think I'll be given a new surgery date before the second week of December. I don’t want to miss Poetry Jam events and the Sex Pistols with Frank Carter gig. I've waited fourteen months for the hernia op. Hate being messed about. OK. 11.07pm.


Tuesday 13th October 2026

I woke up too early. But managed to deliver a pretty good workshop this afternoon: Take Three Nouns, Tricubes, Beginnings and Endings of Stories, Beginning-Middle-Ending exercise, Narrative Expansion. Sold three copies of The Perfect Opportunity by Waddy Writers. Only one copy left until I can find time to make more. Stupidly, I took the longer bus ride back to Consett via Sacriston and Stanley this afternoon. Ninety minutes. I bought a cheap boombox to play CDs and old audio cassettes. The tapes sound better than the discs. I listened to TV Smith's 'Handwriting' album, Behemoth's 'Shit Ov God' album, and Pit Pony's ‘World To Me’ album, then finished off with the classic Venom track 'In League With Satan'. It's the first time I've just sat and listened to music at home for a long time. Oh, there's a new date for my hernia operation: two days later than the original one, so fingers crossed it goes ahead next week. Ate lots of beef steak today. OK. 10.42pm.


Wednesday 14th October 2026

I DON'T REALLY KNOW a great deal about anything. Perhaps a little bit about rock music and bicycle stunt riding. Maybe a bit about domestic violence. I can certainly scare the shit out of people by reciting rhythmical anecdotes from a troubled childhood.
   I know next to nothing about the sciences, religion, history and geography. I can barely spin a simple fictional story. But I'm a fastidious, pedantic, stubborn twat. And sometimes get really irate, trying to wade this way and that through half-baked manuscripts by individuals far more world-wise than I'll ever be. I can agonise over a line or three. Feel a migraine coming on while screaming SEMI-FUCKING-COLON!!
   My mind is somewhat broken and quite often fails to retain anything. I was once told by a kind, theatrical soul – post-breakdown – that I'm a good builder of prose. Yet countless clipped paragraphs and public utterances outside of free verse would suggest otherwise. Scribbles ... indeed.
   I've spent about seven hours trying to proofread – nay, line-edit – today. How anyone can do it as a full-time endeavour in the service of others is beyond me. OK. 11.25pm.


Thursday 15th October 2026

Long day of work on the Washington Anthology. Pages of proofing, then made up two draft copies for tomorrow’s editing workshop. I also photocopied double-page spreads for contributors to read from. Poetry Jam admin only took half an hour this evening because the poster was made a few weeks ago. Besides the anthology, my main work for the next month is my own book and prep for the big gig in Hexham in late November. Cousin Gordon was unable to do the pipework on the house today due to a family emergency. I did some bicep physio tonight after a long layoff. There doesn't seem to be much point until after the hernia surgery and recovery. I hope I get an afternoon appointment. OK. 10.42pm.


Friday 16th October 2026

Good turnout for the Washington Anthology editing session. Lots of eyes on lines and sentences. But we only got through half the pages. Thanks to Alwyn Bathan for a lift to Metro Centre afterwards. Good to chat about work and health issues. Back in Consett, I splashed out on not one but two heaters. Mainly for worst winter temperatures; for Jenni, who will be staying at my place for a few days after my hernia operation; also to warm paper stock and equipment when bookmaking.... Awake from three this morning. I was a bit more scatterbrained than usual in this afternoon’s Washington session. This evening, I've mainly been buying food for the post-surgery recovery: custard, rice pudding, applesauce, bananas.... It's going to be all sorts of fun. 9.00pm.


Saturday 17th October 2026

Up early to rant onto morning pages. Then out on the Sonder Frontier bike, mostly riding sections by the riverside. All good until a stupid fucking dog owner let their precious pet piss all over my backpack, which was next to the bike while I took a breather. I found a few new trail possibilities and aim to 'modify' some of them over the Winter.... I did some copy-ups and listened to Hands Off Gretel this afternoon, then out to Jen's place for an evening of retro Coronation Street and chips with curry sauce. 10.36pm.


Sunday 18th October 2026

Canny afternoon in Newcastle. Resisted the temptation to buy a couple of books. Checked out logo T-shirts and heavy metal CDs in HMV. Also, great shirt designs and other merch at Damaged Society.… Bought a cheap dressing gown for the hospital visit. Ate a reduced-price Tesco Finest pork, Wilshire ham and chicken pie (with apple jelly) minus 80% of the pastry. It was canny, but I certainly wouldn't pay the full price of £4.50.… This evening there was more classic Corrie: Brian Tilsley's murder, Alec Gilroy's tax return, Vera Duckworth's external wall cladding. Fish finger sandwich for supper. OK. 11.00pm.


Monday 19th October 2026

I should probably stay away from social media at present: riots, conscription, racism. Pick a side or die. FUCK OFF! Scrolled for an hour this morning. Chatted with Jenni, then back to Consett. Bought a few supplies. Ate grilled beef steak and baked potato. I edited the Poetry Jam pictures tonight. The computer tiles were fine; images were easily found for upload. I won't use the desktop computer again for over a week. Chuffed to get invoices sent/paid. Chuffed to have a session for Waddy writers tomorrow. I still have a lot to sort out before I go to hospital. I hope things go well. I wrote a three-page piece this morning about the threat of war, without using 'I' once. OK. 11.46pm.


Tuesday 20th October 2026

I filled half a small notebook in the Waddy workshop. I put posters up for Poetry Jam and had a good conversation with staff about what things will be like for me after the hernia operation. I'm not looking forward to being out of action. Cousin Gordon was here early evening with gear for tomorrow’s plumbing work. I will be home all day. Gordon gave me a lift to Consett. It's been heavily pissing down for much of the evening. The trails will be muddy. But I say that every time it rains. And speaking of every time it rains, I saw a great career-spanning Kate Bush MOJO magazine in Tesco. Next week I will be reading quite a bit. Jenni and I will watch a lot of television this weekend. OK. 10.55pm.

Wednesday 21st October 2026

Cousin Gordon was here until about half-one, draining the attic water tank, radiators, and pipes, so they shouldn't freeze this winter. I can use electric heaters in the kitchen and on the landing for a couple of hours when the temperature drops below zero. I didn't get much writing/editing done, despite being awake since four o'clock this morning. I fell asleep this evening during a YouTube screening of 'Hellraiser II: Hellbound'. The best thing about it was Clare Higgins reprising her role as Julia from the first film. The original Cenobites didn't feature very much. The story couldn't keep me awake. Earlier, I skimmed through about two hundred reviews of ‘The Consumer and Other Stories’ by Michael Gira (Swans). Dark, depraved, amazing, brilliantly written; juvenile, boring, poorly written, brutal, sick, repugnant, amateurish, etc. Most readers didn't like it, including several Swans fans. Even MG has disowned it and won't let the book be republished in its entirety. I loved ‘The Consumer…’ in the nineties, but don't think I could read it all now. OK. 11.12pm.


Thursday 22nd October 2026

Didn't get out for a bus till ten. It didn't turn up. I returned home. Twenty-five minutes later, an old friend's mam was at the bus stop for the next one. She was going to the dentist. We exchanged ailments, and I checked connecting buses, but the next one from Consett would get her to the surgery too early. I bought another load of food. I don't know when I'll be able to carry much after today. I need to be at the hospital by 7:30am tomorrow. Poor weather could make travelling from Jen's place a bit of a pain. It's getting late now, and I'm not ready yet, so I'll risk getting the 5.43am bus from Moorside to Durham tomorrow. This afternoon I had my final Sonder Frontier riverside ride of the year. I might get some road rides on the old Rockhopper bike by December…. Wes Streeting says we all need to be aware of the dangers looming. World War Three? Or some other scaremongering shit to make people acquiesce? OK. 9.08pm.


Friday 23rd October 2026

Given that I've ridden bikes for over a year with a double hernia (groin) and no real discomfort, I can only assume that there isn't any serious risk of it becoming strangulated; otherwise, having waited in hospital for five hours after getting up at 4.00am for a 6.45am arrival today, my rescheduled surgery wouldn't have been CANCELLED. I won't be cancelling any of my remaining 2026 schedule for anything. I really thought I was gonna lose my temper in the hospital today. I scared myself. I've been full of hell all afternoon and evening. I was fully prepared and had involved other people who changed their routines. Then I was let down. I've slept for a couple of hours since and eaten a lot of catch-up food. An early night is required. Hopefully I'll feel more civilised tomorrow. OK. 9.13pm.

Saturday 24th October 2026

Good night's sleep. Feel a lot better than I did yesterday. Out to Consett at ten for a few supplies, then a 47 bus to Jen’s. Onboard distractions scuppered my reading plans; I got through a few flash fictions but had to go over them a couple of times. I reached Bensham just as the rain got heavier. Jenni and I watched a few episodes of 'Carrie' this afternoon. I've probably eaten far too much chocolate, chicken and fruit loaf. OK. 11.36pm.


Sunday 25th October 2026

Hellish windy overnight. I went out this morning for supplies. Steak pie with sweet potato mash and marrowfat peas. Jenni had fishcake. We watched five episodes of 'Carrie'. The last one seemed a bit laboured. A few characters seemed unnecessary for this new adaptation. Later, we watched the 1976 original film. Pretty good. Better ending. Then the 2013 remake featuring Julianne Moore as Carrie's mother. Quite faithful to the original for the most part. And the ending was canny. OK. 11.46pm.


Monday 26th October 2026

I don't know where today went. I was up around half-nine and spent an hour writing over one hundred lines across three morning pages. I nipped out for milk for Jenni. Then read an article from SFX magazine about the new 'Carrie' eight-part series that we watched over the weekend. We watched a classic Corrie storyline across several episodes in which Mary and Norris parody Stephen King's MISERY thriller. It was very funny. I left at four and got an X71 bus from the Teams A184 Slip Road to Consett. Bought more supplies and a rerelease 'Carrie' paperback. Ate cheese-and-tomato pasta with baked potatoes, then tried to read 'Carrie' in bed but fell asleep. Woke up and wrote this. I haven't scrolled Facebook since Friday and feel better for it. OK. 9.56pm.

Tuesday 27th October 2026

I’m only checking Facebook notifications this week, not scrolling the newsfeed. I still don’t seem to be getting much work done. I tried to read ‘Carrie’ this evening but fell asleep twice. I’m pleased I don’t have to go anywhere until Saturday. I typed and edited with the band MuddiBrooke live at Monster Fest on repeat today, but the songs aren’t sticking. OK. 10.12pm.


Wednesday 28th October 2026

Today was pretty bloody mint. Saw a great Ray Bradbury lecture online and edited some prose. I got out on the Sonder this afternoon and hit my favourite technical lines by the River Derwent. I tackled some fairly sketchy stuff: a nice little step up between two trees and a perfect clean line up off the bridge at Shotley onto the road. This evening I had a lush chicken dinner and a chat online with Jenni ahead of her night out at Reece Shearsmith's book show in Newcastle. Then a couple of hours playing songs by MuddiBrooke and Courtney Hadwin. So chuffed I'll get to see them play live on Saturday. OK. 11.52pm.

Thursday 29th October 2026

Difficult day. Lots of doubts about writing. I'm basically a confessional free verse scribbler; if it isn’t autobiographical, it isn’t happening. I've studied story structure on and off for decades. I just don't seem to be wired up for sustained fiction. Snapshots, emotional outpourings, rants and reportage – that's me. Character interaction and plot – not so much. I read over 50 pages of Stephen King's ‘Carrie’ this afternoon. I had steak with a big baked potato, cheese, leeks, mushrooms, tomatoes, and curried beans for tea. Then out to Consett Empire for a screening of The Exorcist. The last time I saw it on the big screen, I laughed at the number of times the power of Christ compels you was repeated. On this occasion, I thought it was a pretty good film. I bought a few supplies on the way home. Haven't really done much this week. Needed time out. 10.53pm.


Friday 30th October 2026

I’m struggling to focus on editing. I have days when I fucking hate doing anything at all. I listened to more music this evening – mostly Courtney Hadwin. Think Janis Joplin, James Brown, Little Richard and bits of the best female pop-rock singers of the last two decades. I’m going to bed early in hopes of waking up a bit brighter. OK. 9.40pm.


Saturday 31st October 2026

It seems sunny and bright. Nothing besides the date suggests anything sinister. So I’m going to put Cradle of Filth doing Cliff Richard’s ‘Devil Woman’ on Facebook.
   I’ve managed to avoid doomscrolling sessions for over a week, but don’t feel in the time away I’ve achieved a great deal. 

   October didn’t quite go as planned. I’d psyched myself up for the hernia operation and spent a lot of time preparing the house, assuming that post-surgery I’d be unable to lift much more than a kettle of water for a while, so a lot of my regular activity went out the window. After the operation was cancelled, I felt out of kilter for a couple of days.
   But the fine weather after the storm allowed me another riverside ride on my Sonder adventure bike. 

   I hoped to get out again yesterday, but the desktop computer revealed itself to be a stealer of media. To my annoyance, I discovered that all the files I thought the machine was saving as videos were nowhere to be seen. About twenty-seven Poetry Jam feature sets are lost. I don’t always go back and watch all the footage after it’s archived; I don’t remember much of what I record. But I’m annoyed that I can’t retrieve it from the machine. I certainly can’t retrieve it from my brain.
   I’ve been playing MuddiBrooke and Courtney Hadwin songs on repeat for days now and trying to recall melody, lyric, riff is like grasping for invisible objects in a blackened room, with just a whisper or a slight chuckle for your efforts. I needed a lot more time to build up layer upon layer; each listen merely dropping another pebble in a deep well, hoping to eventually raise the distant water level for surface access. But I will try to enjoy the bands in the moment and hope there is a bit of familiarity as the songs are played in a County Durham social club this evening.
   It’s Saturday, and already next week seems mapped out: prep on Monday for two workshops; deliver one on Tuesday; a short bike ride and group anthology editing on Wednesday; prep and Poetry Jam on Thursday; and an eight-hour round trip for a two-hour workshop at Arts Centre Washington on Friday. I will earn about seventy quid.
   I’m currently sitting at my old drop-leaf table wearing double layers, top and bottom. The condensation has almost cleared from the living room window.
   Happy Halloween. Have a good weekend.
   Thanks for reading. 8.37am.

SPREADING MYSELF TOO THINLY

Tuesday 1st September 2026

Good first WRITE Festival session at The Word in South Shields today. Marisse Whittaker is highly knowledgeable about crime thrillers and talked the group through various genres, including cosy crime, psychological thriller, police procedural, etc. We made mood boards using pictures and fragments of magazine text. Today I considered getting a ticket for Pistols and Frank Carter, who are playing Newcastle in December. 11.15pm.


Wednesday 2nd September 2026

I'm onto my sixteenth little A6 volume of Gratitude Journal. I've been keeping one daily since 2012. I've knocked up another batch of Waddington Street Writers The Perfect Opportunity anthology for tomorrow’s Poetry Jam. This evening I worked on the Washington Writers anthology and responded to recent emails from contributors. I listened to Handwriting by TV Smith. I might read in bed but will probably just fall asleep. 11.50pm.


Thursday 3rd September 2026

Got the Sonder Frontier back from Bits4Bikes today. Shaun has fitted new brake pads and adjusted the bash guard. I took the scenic route home and rode down the grassy heaps. I spotted some good little step-ups but wasn't fit enough to ride them. Back home, I selected poems for Poetry Jam and wrapped a birthday present. I tried to read on the bus to Durham but fell asleep. I set up for the gig, then had beef steak with salad and baked potato. I wrote notes for the evening, then opened at seven. Great turnout. Excellent sets from Sharon Milley, David Rutherford and Cat Bell. Great contributions from a variety of new and familiar voices: Stephen Watson, Kevin Robson, Chris Short, Ivy Hudson... I read She Says the Curtains… and Let’s Get Together This Winter from the forthcoming book. Stayed back till nearly eleven to tidy up. Only four people on last bus out of Durham. I should be home by midnight. 11.17pm.


Friday 4th September 2026

Long day. I struggled to get motivated. I think I was a wee bit distracted by the fact that the Sex Pistols with Frank Carter gig didn't sell out in the pre-sale, and I thought about it for ages before I bought a ticket. Very expensive, but it's a one-off and the chance of Matlock, Jones and Cook playing together in Newcastle on the 50th anniversary of their original cancelled City Hall booking was too good to miss. I got a lesson plan sorted this afternoon and rehashed the running order of my set for Lit and Phil with Joan Johnston and friends on the 24th of September. Tonight's For Better Or Verse was great. Lovely to see a very animated Pip McDonald using the full floor. Blackhill Club is perfect for her kind of performance. Kevin Robson did a nice mix of silly and serious. I was surprised to see Jenni and her mam there. We're now on the bus back to Newcastle. OK. 10.25pm.


Saturday 5th September 2026

Good to hear Kym Deyn and Rishi Dastidar talk at WRITE festival with total transparency about the various jobs of a writer and what it takes to make headway. The session before theirs featured fantasy writers talking about getting published and the benefits of a good working relationship with an editor. OK. 10.20pm.


Sunday 6th September 2026

Jenni and I enjoyed seeing punk band Slalom D and TV Smith at The Globe in Newcastle this afternoon. Tim Smith signed a copy of his Handwriting album for me. I asked him about working with Rollins. He told me the Nashville project is a punk museum. He played a few new songs, including Apparently Not, and old favourites such as Expensive Being Poor, One Chord Wonders and, of course, Gary Gilmore's Eyes. Totally brilliant gig. OK. 11.46pm.

Monday 7th September 2026

Contents of the new book have been spread across the living room floor for over a month. Sequencing has stalled at page twelve. As per usual, my personal creativity goes to the back of the queue. I need to sort workshop plans. The reason I'm going to several WRITE Festival workshops is to get my mojo back and see some packaged approaches to writing facilitation and compare them with my own. Tonight I heard the hardcore band Gallows for the first time. Pretty fucking brutal. Mr Carter is considerably more mellow now, fronting Sex Pistols. John Lydon can still perform with PIL but isn't energetic enough to deliver Never Mind the Bollocks. 10.22pm.


Tuesday 8th September 2026

Good little writing session at Waddington Street Centre this afternoon. I used a Raymond Carver story and some flash fiction from the Bristol anthology. Then off to Gateshead on the X21. Some annoying twat playing loud music on his phone deserved a fucking axe through his skull. No public decorum. Thankfully, I kept mine. Writing for wellbeing with Helen Aitchison was canny. I wrote about the above incident to the prompt of 'fracture'. Helen told me to send it to one of the publishers she recommended. I read some of Clive Barker's novella The Hellbound Heart on the bus today. Over halfway. Tonight, on the way back, I made a quick pit stop to buy food. Got home at ten to find the freezer making grating noises. I unplugged it, completely defrosted it as suggested online, then plugged it in and switched it on again, but that didn't rectify the situation. Another major financial outlay. No meat or cheese for Stevie. OK. 11.45pm.


Wednesday 9th September 2026

Following the demise of the fridge freezer, the lawnmower decided to cut out after about twenty minutes this morning. This happens pretty much every time I use it, but today it wouldn't restart. Not after 15 minutes. Not after 30. Not after 45 minutes of rest. I was just about to go to town for a new one but gave it one last try. Hey-ho, it's off to grass we mow. This afternoon I caught up on some admin. Reshuffled and inserted more poems for the Washington Anthology. Hope to get it signed off soon. 9.28pm.


Thursday 10th September 2026

Up just after five to do swift morning pages then have a shave and out on the 6.37am bus to Consett. The X70 to Gateshead didn't show up at seven, so the journey was two hours and twenty minutes from my front door to Gateshead Interchange. I got to South Shields by half past nine. The First Spark to Publication novel workshop was more of a lecture with a seemingly endless series of slides covering all the usual elements. My right wrist was in an uproar after a few hours of note-taking. A few people were expecting some generative exercises, as was I. Five hours is a long time to have theory mostly read out to you. But all the information was sound. It's just that it had the adverse effect of putting me off ever attempting to write a novel. I read the end of Clive Barker's The Hellbound Heart. Then some poems from Bukowski’s posthumous Storm for the Living and the Dead. His best since The Roominghouse Madrigals. OK. 9.45pm.


Friday 11th September 2026

Another long day. Out at quarter past eight. Bus journeys were okay. But I had a stressful morning. I got to Arts Centre Washington in good time, but due to an electrical fault in The Granary, we had to use the Lower Barn instead. The session was a repeat of Tuesday: trinkets, mind maps, stepping stones, Carver story analysis, and a look at flash fiction. Good chat with Alwyn Bathan about writing and publishing in the car on the way back to Metro Centre. Grateful for the lift. Then a pit-stop at Jen’s place, before going out to The Word for TM Logan's book talk. Three million book sales in the UK. Several TV adaptations. Thirty-three people in the audience. Only four of which were blokes, for a male author. Interesting, but I didn't buy a book. Back at Jen's after a Tesco food haul. Titanic, Would I Lie to You, then Mrs Brown's Boys. I'm tired and have eaten a lot of pastry, sandwiches, and chocolate. OK. 9.52pm.


Saturday 12th September 2026

Up early to ensure prompt arrival for the Helen Aitchison novel writing workshop at The Word WRITE Festival in South Shields. Some good advice, more instructive than generative. A lot of the sessions have been do's and don'ts, but not much actual creative writing. This afternoon's non-fiction panel was better, but I forget the contributors’ names. Then over to The White Room in Stanley, County Durham, to see Tom Waits For No Man, who were sensational. Got a signed CD. OK. 10.58pm.

Sunday 13th September 2026

Back pain at its worst early morning. I wanted to read and write today but couldn't settle on a single novel or short story. My annoyance at rules of structure, plot and pacing put me off my own work – so I watched footage of Sex Pistols at Dallas Longhorn Ballroom, then had a pie and veg tea. I'm still without a fridge freezer until after next weekend. I hope tomorrow is a better day. OK. 10.37pm.


Monday 14th September 2026

My spine eased a bit quicker today. Tomorrow I might walk around for a while before doing pages. Walking seems to ease the ache a fair bit. By late afternoon I was able to work on a short run of Failed Rock Star to take with me to Morecambe this weekend. I came up with a tagline for the thriller/horror mood board from last week’s workshop at The Word. It’s opened up a space in my head that might take in some sort of story. 10.37pm.


Tuesday 15th September 2026

Got to Waddy at twenty-five to twelve. I photocopied a few things, set up in the seminar room, then had oxtail soup upstairs. Only a couple of people came this afternoon. But we had a crack at Absurd Words, American Sentences, Haiku, Tanka and Rondelet. This evening I cleaned out the dead fridge because the door was starting to get mould on it. I tidied the kitchen, then made a colour cut-and-paste meme about the Carter-fronted Pistols detractors. My back isn't so bad today. I'm super busy for the next week, so I took things easy this evening. It was a warm day. I wish I could have been down by the River Derwent on my Sonder Frontier bike. Anyway, I'm expecting to get Poetry Jam publicity done tomorrow. OK. 11.05pm.


Wednesday 16th September 2026

The Poetry Jam publicity took a while this morning. But I think it came out okay. The bios balanced up nicely. I selected about twenty poems for Morecambe. I read through them on the way to Tynemouth. Jenni was the featured guest at The Performance Menagerie. She did a great set as usual. She always reads the room well. Her new Macca-packer poem was well received. She had Monty monographs for those interested. I spoke to Christine Fowler about her book. I read a few things from my Morecambe set. We think it will be about eighteen to twenty minutes each on Saturday afternoon. I've eaten quite a lot today. And will probably eat too much at Morecambe over the weekend. OK. 11.19pm.


Thursday 17th September 2026

Windy evening in Morecambe. Jenni and I arrived about half-seven, then wheeled our cases towards town and along the seafront at dusk. All sorted at The Shipping Lanes B&B: clothes hung up, bits and pieces laid out. It's been a long day. I attended the killer thriller crime writing workshop at The Word in South Shields this afternoon. I'm not really warming to the work-in-pairs approach to novel writing, but Marisse knows her stuff, and I'm clueless so I did as best I could. The trains to Morecambe were fine. We saw Tony and Roz Gadd outside The Bath venue. We are off to the King’s Arms to catch Peter Buckley Hill and Fall in Green. My memory is letting me down a bit. I forgot my wheelie case when I left The Word and had to go back. Then thought I'd left a bag of supplies in Carlisle. I anticipate a lot of gratuitous calorific intake over the weekend. But hey, it's only once a year. OK. 8.32pm.


Friday 18th September 2026

Rainy day in Lancaster. I bought a steak and Stilton pasty from Greggs and didn't like it. The smell after one bite was an insult, but the fucking taste was unbelievably bad. Jenni assured me that Greggs were still doing a deal where, if you didn't like it, you could exchange it for something else, so I went back and politely said, this is fucking crap. Actually, I just looked at her like an infant who’d had an accident in his pants and said I don't like this. And she said, okay, no problem. She looked over to her colleague and said, That's FIVE. How many more people will hate it? They gave me a regular steak bake. I’d already bought spicy wedges. Jenni and I had a wet walk to Lancaster Castle, the biggest we've been to. We passed a soaked Robin Ince on the way back to the train station. We had pot noodles for tea. Tonight we saw John Cooper Clarke, who several people thought was somewhat average. Trystan Lewis, who opened, was better. And of course, now here we are at the King's Arms. A super packed full house. Thick Richard has just blown the fucking roof off. Near the knuckle? He nearly put a knife through his hand onstage. But a really good gig. OK. 11.42pm.


Saturday 19th September 2026

Loads of great poets at the King's Arms this afternoon. Particularly Kate Ireland, who riffed on her grandma being a revolutionary. Also enjoyed Tim Barlow from Hastings. Me, Jenni and Donald Jenkins had great sets for our Geordie takeover. Jenni felt wiped out and went back to the B&B. I saw a good set from Henry Normal and enjoyed quite a lot of Selena Godden's poems. I walked back to the B&B straight after. OK. 10.46pm.


Sunday 20th September 2026

Great day at the festival. Best one of the weekend. Jackie Kay was ace. Elvis McGonagall was outstanding. I was surprisingly impressed by Luke Wright's full-length emotive show about adoption. Nothing like his usual stuff. Also enjoyed Kate Fox with a Sycamore Gap show set to music by Staid. Attila the Stockbroker was canny. Brian Bilston was mint. Now at King's Arms with Jenni, listening to Newtown Neurotics. OK. 11.52pm.


Monday 21st September 2026

Final Shipping Lanes B&B breakfast was continental: lots of fruit, cereal, cheese and ham. Jenni and I had a walk around Morecambe, including the pier bookshop. Saw a Harry Crews collection and a signed Giles Brandreth diary. After checking out charity shops with tempting suede Doc Martens and military jackets, we had three plates for a tenner in the local Spoons. Trains back to Newcastle via Lancaster, Penrith and Carlisle. Jenni is still very ill with some kind of bronchial Black Death and did well to engage with most of the festival sets over the weekend. I have eaten way too much food and will need to have a week of tuna and fresh fruit, and hopefully a couple of bike rides to reset the body. I've slept a lot, sometimes nodding off during shows this weekend. But I had a good time. I don't know if I'll be able to attend next year. I aim to be at WRITE Festival in South Shields again tomorrow. OK. 10.41pm.

Tuesday 22nd September 2026

Today’s ‘Business of Writing’ sessions from the Business & IP Centre at The Word were great. Elaine Cusack invited me to pitch in from the audience with insights relating to poetry. I'm pleased she showed the slide that states the average income for a writer in the UK is £7,000. And that £7,000 includes talks, workshops, readings, broadcasts - not just the physical writing of a book. I used to earn more than that in 2012. Not anymore. Nowhere close. Crime fiction author Glynis Drew said she spent a couple of thousand just advertising her first novel. Add to that Criminology courses and professional editing. And she spent twenty years getting from first idea to where she is now, several books into her career. This evening I watched TV with Jenni, then got the bus back to Consett. NHS letters on the doormat informed me of the date for my hernia operation: Wednesday 21st October. With a preliminary assessment on the 8th – a day before the Pit Pony gig. I'll need to cancel a few workshops. Oh well, can't be helped. OK. 11.54pm.


Wednesday 23rd September 2026

First ride on the Sonder Frontier bike for nearly three weeks. Back pain from gardening kept me off it for a fortnight then being away at the Morecambe Poetry Festival. I didn't get out until about four o'clock this afternoon. Really lethargic. But I ended up having a good ride. The bike rode nicely, and the trails are still hard and dry. Even after recent rain. I didn't really ride well but was grateful just to be out. My computer is being an utter cunt and won't display thumbnail photo files just blank tiles so uploading pics to Facebook tonight has been very taxing. And I'm sick of all the do your duty and die for your country coming from that stupid fucking anachronistic streak of piss. Send your family to the front if you're so fucking dutiful. I've done a few runs through my little set for Joan Johnston's Lit and Phil gig. OK. 11.38pm.


Thursday 24th September 2026

A lot of time has been spent on the conundrum of the fridge freezer. Before I buy, I have to be sure it will be installable, but the cooker needs disconnecting from the gas valve so it can be moved to clear a path for removal of the old fridge freezer and installation of a new one. Cousin Gordon is going to help me out next week. I copied up notes then packed for another visit to Jen's place. Tonight I took part in a reading at the Literary and Philosophical Society in Newcastle with Ellen Pheathean, Joan Johnston, Ali May, Pippa Little, Catherine Ayres, Kathleen Kenny and Nev Clay. We did about 8 to 10 minutes each. Nev did a couple of songs. I enjoyed reading. I would have preferred not to use a mic, but the room is quite large and there was a good turnout. I got back to Jen’s by half nine. Gogglebox is on telly. The National Poetry Day gig info is up on social media. OK. 10.48pm.

Friday 25th September 2026

Smartly dressed in Bensham by ten to ten and in Arts Centre Washington an hour later. We wrote short poems and looked at the near-final version of our anthology. Writing exercises today were: Absurd Words, 26-word stories, American Sentences, Haiku, Tanka and Rondelet. Then we made mini-zine templates. It was a good two-hour session. Many thanks to Alwyn Bathan for the lift to Metro Centre, where I bought some supplies for tea. Jenni and I watched a lot of telly. Dragons' Den always pisses me off; it annoys me that stupid schemes can win favour – not with Dragons, but with the public. I suppose you have to be a bit thick-skinned and audacious to be in business. I am not a businessman; I am a scribbler who happens to be published. Jenni and I are going to The Word is Murder event at WRITE Festival tomorrow. OK. 9.41pm.

Saturday 26th September 2026

Early rise and out to South Shields with Jenni for The Word is Murder - the final event of WRITE Festival. We arrived just five minutes before the start. Gill Main from Washington Writers was there. We listened to about nine or ten authors, including a great opening panel discussing their personal ill health and the therapeutic benefits of writing. A few panels weren't so hot, but Mark Billingham's closer was highly entertaining. Tonight we watched a lot of standard Saturday night TV. I ate lots of chicken. OK. 10.17pm.

Sunday 27th September 2026

Selected a lot of potential poems for the National Poetry Day library gig. Some are loosely connected to the theme of wonder; most aren’t. Watched the Porridge spin-off Going Straight. Then Jesus Christ Superstar. Followed by the full series of Catterick. Jenni prepared fishcakes, chips and beans. I read a lot of Lydia Davis short vignettes on the bus back to Consett. Canny weekend. OK. 10.17pm.


Monday 28th September 2026

Big thanks to Cousin Gordon for helping me out by uncoupling the gas pipe from the cooker and getting the old freezer over the carpet so we could lift it outside. I've sent a couple of invoices today; one will just about cover the cost of a new freezer, which is being delivered on Wednesday. This afternoon, I made posters for November and December's Poetry Jams on Publisher before Microsoft makes the software obsolete mid-week. I haven't had time to get to grips with a new package yet. I made a lot of colour blog plates to take me to the end of next February. Tomorrow's workshop is prepped and good to go. I listened to Newcastle band Pit Pony this evening. I'm going to see them in Byker a week on Friday. I did some physio and had marmalade on toast for supper. 11.00pm.

Tuesday 29th September 2026

Only two people at the Waddy workshop today. If I were still doing sessions for the college, I’d need at least eight. So it’s just as well I’m doing them for free, coz there’s no way I could still jump through bureaucratic hoops these days. Two decades was more than enough to tip me over the edge. Sentence Stems, Story Circles and Mini-Zines. The theme of Wonder kind of got lost along the way. Tonight I lost two hours listening to an excruciating Henry Rollins interview. He very graciously stayed on topic for well over an hour before subtly suggesting a change of direction, but the interviewer kept pressing on and on. I don’t go to a Rollins interview for an extended geopolitics lesson. Ask him about the forthcoming memoir, for fuck’s sake! Or the Nashville project. There’s still another hour to go – but not for me tonight. I have a pretend Pot Noodle waiting for me. And a day of editing ahead of me. Goodnight! 11.18pm.


Wednesday 30th September 2026

I couldn’t sleep last night, so I listened to the final hour of the mega long Rollins interview. Mercifully, a few changes of topic. Hank touched on ‘the horror’ from Apocalypse Now and how PTSD still throws him over thirty-five years after the murder of his best friend. I saw him talk about Joe Cole onstage a few feet away from me in Glasgow in 1992, and it was a very moving experience. Today I stayed home for the delivery of a new fridge-freezer. I got a black one. It should last me for the rest of my days. The old one was thirty-five years old. I doubt I’ll still be here in 2061. I’ve just trawled through a month of morning pages, intending to include a couple of entries in the blog, but have decided not to. Tomorrow is National Poetry Day. I have a gig with Jenni Pascoe at Durham Clayport Library at 2.00pm. There’ll be an open mic session as well. Then there’s the Poetry Jam at Waddington Street Centre at 7.00pm. Thanks for reading. Cheers! 3.45pm.

AUGUST

Saturday 1st August 2026

Most of today has been spent trying to get rid of more pieces of paper and trying to rearrange boxes of stuff so the back room can be accessed when Jenni comes over. I've been busy all evening going through papers. It's very tedious, hardly a noteworthy way to start the month, but the living room looks pretty good. I'm expecting Jenni soon. OK. 10.39pm.


Sunday 2nd August 2026

Jenni has installed new desktop publishing software on my computer in advance of Publisher being discontinued by Microsoft this October. We've had some nice chilli and baked potatoes. Watched Operation Mincemeat and a few episodes of Still Game. I've done some physio and a bit more filing. I'll be off to bed soon. OK. 11.44pm.


Monday 3rd August 2026

I did a bit more paper sorting this morning. The Collected Poems of Geoff Hattersley arrived. I already own most of the content, but there's a new set of about nineteen poems at the end. This afternoon, Jenni and I went for a walk through the woods to Allensford. Out about two hours. Baked potatoes with chilli and salad for tea. This evening we watched a few more episodes of Still Game. OK. 11.01pm.


Tuesday 4th August 2026

I got two copies of Joan Johnston's pamphlet printed. I'm going to knock one up and send it to her or myself and see if it survives being in a heavy bag or sack before I do a full second printing. Anything that stays in my bag for a week tends to shed its toner and leave marks on facing pages. Session at Waddy was based on a prompt from The Moth card set. We did two hours of writing and read-backs. Some stunning vignettes produced by the participants. Tonight I listened to Forgotten Sons by Marillion. One of the best anti-war songs ever. Fish was a great lyricist. OK. 10.30pm.


Wednesday 5th August 2026

Short ride on the Sonder Frontier spoiled by the amount of dog shit on the trails. Four lumps embedded in my lovely front Vittoria tyre. When riding on new terrain, it is often necessary to dismount and read the line to gauge the best way of getting through the section: wheel placement; which rocks to ride over, which to avoid; how to stay upright. But a rider shouldn't be expected to get off the bike every five minutes to check favourite trails for dog excrement. Just because it's the countryside, some people think it’s okay to leave pet-shit behind. I got home at twelve, had chicken salad, fell asleep. Then got ready to go to Tyneside to join Jenni for an evening in Ouseburn celebrating the debut poetry collection SPOKEN by Tahmina Ali. Fantastic turnout. Great support from Rowan McCabe and Chandri Chopra. Excellently hosted by Wajid Hussain. Tahmina was brilliant. I got two copies of the book. Lovely food too. I had chicken bites and two crafted cakes provided by Fazal's cake shop. Best book launch by miles. OK. 10.55pm.


Thursday 6th August 2026

Buying tickets for The Word WRITE festival in South Shields took ages. Cheaper in person, but I still had to order one set online afterwards. Then some cheeky dog off its leash in the town centre nosed into my bag and knocked my chicken tikka sandwich onto the pavement. "AYE! YOU CAN EAT IT NOW, YOU CUNT!" I shouted. The dog owner did not approach me. Back in Newcastle, I bought more paper and card in Details Art Supplies for the second run of Joan Johnston's "The Lay-By". I also need to make a second run of the new Waddy anthology “The Perfect Opportunity” coz the last seven copies sold at Poetry Jam tonight. A great gig. Nice to see a mixed bag of free verse and rhyming couplets from Christopher Short. Top quality selections from various anthologies in Penny Blackburn's set. Short and sweet was Steve Lancaster's approach; his headline set included the hilarious Craft Fair. Top stuff from a bunch of open floor readers too. Big thanks also to Gary the Hat for the Poetical Outlaws podcast. I didn't leave Waddy till eleven; I get flustered if I rush. I'm now on the X15 to Moorside. I've eaten four wagon wheels. I'm ready for bed. 11.17pm.


Friday 7th August 2026

Didn't get to bed till about one o'clock and didn't get a good sleep, so have been a bit sluggish today. I did some journal type-ups, then crashed out. Was going to try reading but got the bus to Jen's place instead. We watched Play for Today – about the final tenant to reluctantly leave a block of flats. He ends up in jail for attempted murder. Next up, a bit of comedy. Been scrolling on Facebook, and I've watched the Poetical Outlaws podcast again. OK. 11.10pm.

Saturday 8th August 2026

Even with a three-inch cube book of writing prompts, I struggle to get started. I still think that "I remember...", Begin Where You Are and Absurd Words – maybe Take Three Nouns, or Ten Images In Ten Minutes From Your Previous Twenty-Four Hours – are the best ways to warm up.
   I remember leaving the house, remarking silently to myself that the grass hasn't grown more than a couple of centimetres since the last cut a few weeks ago; random green spikes amid parched yellow deadness.
   Momentarily, I think of summer holidays from my teen years. Not package holidays, just the six weeks away from school. I remember the skateboard evenings, Chinese whispers in friends' garages and outhouses, walks in the woods, scraping copper coins together for something from the ice cream van. But I don't remember turning the key in the front door when I leave for the weekend. A minute later, imagining I'm being watched and pretending to have forgotten to check something around the side of the house, I return and make a move past the blue and green wheelie bins with a brick on top of each. Then, as I turn to come back to the street, I go to my front door to check that I locked it. This is something I do regularly. Most of the time, the door is indeed locked, but not always. Far rather check again now, before I reach the end of the street, before I reach the bus stop and see the only bus for an hour approaching. Sometimes, the churning panic in my stomach doesn't start until I'm miles from home, when a return is impossible - or at least will ruin my plans. Several times it has ruined my plans. Because if I don't go back, I won't be able to concentrate on what I'm supposed to be looking forward to. So I might as well just return to the house to kill the anxiety.
   I don't remember when this problem with forgetting the basics began. But it happens so often now. Unless I stand at my front door and chant to myself as the key turns, "I am locking the door, I am locking the door," by the time I’ve reached the end of the street, I will be doubting myself. And self-doubt isn't something I like to entertain or have time to worry about.
   But here we are. This is why it takes me an hour to lock up at Waddington Street Centre after Poetry Jam. What seemingly used to take a staff member about fifteen minutes back in the day is a major operation for my stricken brain. So last Thursday, with all the people gone by twenty to ten, I knew I wouldn't be done by ten past, in time for the bus home. I knew it would take an hour to sort everything out and I'd have to get the last bus at ten past eleven. The monthly Poetry Jam makes for a long Thursday.
   Yesterday I was too tired to do much. All I managed was a few pages of copy-ups and a few phone calls regarding my condemned back boiler that I am unable to afford a replacement for. I tried to read but fell asleep. I ate remains rather than go to the shops. I doomscrolled until my packeted wholegrain rice and packeted chilli non carne were ready. The rice neutralised the taste of the chilli, making it a dull affair barely worthy of the three minutes of microwave electricity to heat.
   This winter there will be little heat. If I don't find a good solution for the boiler problem, I run the risk of burst pipes or damp and mouldy walls. But I've been in this position for the last five or six winters. Why, when I still had the option of central heating, didn't the risk bother me? It is only now, living with a boiler I can no longer use, that I concern myself. I often think my luck is going to run out, and I don't want it to be down to a burst pipe due to lack of central heating. But it should be okay; I've been told by my cousin Gordon, a professional plumber, that the temperature has to be minus six for a solid six or seven hours before an interior pipe will freeze. He says since I won't be getting hot water from a tap, he can drain the attic tank coz I'll only be using cold water, which enters the house below the kitchen window. If I'm cold, I can buy a heater for the room I sit in. This has been my thinking since the hellish flu of last January. I really thought that might be my last. Jenni thought I had pneumonia. Every summer I think, oh, the winter is not so bad. I brace myself from the back end of October, when the indoor hat-wearing and full-time long sleeves begin for the duration. Five months of brutal existentialism.
   "You need to treat yourself kinder," says the plumber. "You aren't getting any younger."
   Of that I am fully aware.
   I remember teenage nights out on the town, coatless, while pavements glistened with frost. I remember sleeping in doorways after rock concerts in cities too far away for a last bus home. I remember this time last year, gearing up for an attempt at the C2C bike ride, not knowing that I was about to discover a hernia. I remember thinking, with enough weight training I'd be able to scoop my big 27.5-inch-wheeled Sonder Frontier bike up onto the boulder by the drain cover at Watergate Forest Park – and then having a full bicep tear, a popeye muscle and my ambitions wrecked.
   So yes, things can turn for the worse at any time. Fingers crossed, I'm okay for a good while yet. I don't remember how I started out thinking all this, but I'm pleased that I wrote it down. 11.35am.

LATER: Jenni and I watched a load of skateboarding this afternoon, then some Red Bull Hard-Line downhill mountain biking from Tasmania. And some urban downhill as well, from Spain, I think. Tonight: game shows and a televised Paul Heaton gig. OK. 10.30pm.


Sunday 9th August 2026

Good day at Jen's. Lots of radio listening. Paddy McGuinness was gutted about the demise of Raleigh bicycles. People phoning in about their shopper bikes, Grifters, Tomahawks… I had a Burner then an Aero Pro Burner. Me and Jenni watched four episodes of Ann Droid. It’s very funny. Sue, Sue, Sue! Then later tonight: Song Sung Blue – about a Neil Diamond tribute act, starring Hugh Jackman and Kate Hudson. Buses home unavailable from Gateshead due to street vandalism. OK. 11.23pm.


Monday 10th August 2026

Today has been a good day, and I'm telling you about it with an old gel pen I found under the bed whilst tidying up last week. A black and silver one, before the design was duffed to a pale grey. Today has been a good day because the X70 bus came on time, and I got a block of cheddar cheese in Heron Foods for £2.25. Today has been a good day because I found example poems and prose for tomorrow's workshop quite easily, and the house was cool enough to make oxtail soup seem a sensible choice. Today was a good day because the creeping ice in the freezer only took twenty minutes to remove using a dinner knife, pliers, and a hairdryer. Today was a good day because I colour-coded all the poems for possible inclusion in my new official book by categories such as length, well received, previously published, openers, and others. Today was a good day because it began in a warm bed with Jenni. OK. 11.26pm.

Tuesday 11th August 2026

The workshop today was good: poetic images, free verse, dialogue fleshed out with action. I used some Geoff Hattersley poems and flash fiction from a national anthology. Unfortunately, the very expensive paper I bought for Joan's reprints doesn't work on the Waddy laser printer. We may need to go lightweight or risk using the same as last year. This evening, I chatted a lot online with Jenni who ended up in Consett by mistake. I didn’t see her. She had to get back to Gateshead. I bought one of her birthday presents. And my weekly shopping. I will have to get over to Newcastle soon to buy more things. I've been scrolling bike stuff tonight; hopefully I’ll be out on one tomorrow afternoon or evening. OK. 10.23pm.


Wednesday 12th August 2026

Only managed to select the first seven pages of poems for the new book. It's going to be a really slow process. And the first sequence probably won't be any good. I went to Consett this afternoon. Another bus broke down. The heat was quite intense onboard. I needed a lie down when I got home. Then I read a couple of Geoff Hattersley poems before making a chicken and baked potato salad. I had an ace ride on the Sonder Frontier bike tonight. I cleaned a couple of technical trail sections. Did some awkward hill climbs. Jenni posted a couple of pics of the solar eclipse. I was in the woods when it happened. Pretty dark for a while. I've been indulging in peanuts and choc ices. I'm a little overweight. This time last year I was around eleven stone. I'm closer to twelve at present. I'm currently listening to a live Behemoth extreme metal show from last month. OK. 10.13pm.


Thursday 13th August 2026

Progress on my new book sequencing is very slow. I'm doubting every few pages, and for two days' work, all I've done is add and remove pieces, resulting in a mere twelve pages in place so far. And these are subject to change. Also, strange smells emanating from the old unused gas fire directly in front of where I was working on the carpet made me feel lightheaded. Seems an unventilated, disused, blocked-off chimney can retain some toxins that are stronger in hot weather, so says Google. I read a revised version of Henry Rollins Talks, which I've read several times before. And some info about the re-issue Rob Roskopp ‘Face’ cruiser skateboard that I am far too old and fragile to ride. I have two longboards that I should sell. The house was like a furnace this evening. I hope tomorrow is a more productive day for me. OK. 11.12pm.


Friday 14th August 2026

This evening's Sonder ride down by the River Derwent was quite satisfying. The dry weather has baked the trails hard; streams that are usually treacherous with wet, mossy rocks today were safe to ride in the dry bed. I rode a quite good trials section upstream with rocky steps, no dabs. Best thing I've done on a bike this year. Not bad considering five or ten minutes earlier I thought I'd sprained my right wrist and pulled something in my back. Much of what I do wouldn't look spectacular onscreen. But I get a buzz, and that's fine by me. I'm no further forward with my book sequencing. But thankfully, the Washington Writers Anthology is starting to take shape. Joan Johnston was in touch to say go with 120gsm paper for her second printing of “The Lay-By”. OK. 9.41pm.


Saturday 15th August 2026

Out by seven for a bus to Durham. Big thanks to Peter at Waddy for help with all technology today. Reprints of “Failed Rock Star”, “The Lay-By” and “The Perfect Opportunity”. I was done by half ten but stayed to print some birthday stuff for Jenni. Left at three and had my ears blasted by a loud couple on the X21 bus to Gateshead. Bought Jenni a T-shirt and Jakeman’s sweets. We watched Smoggy Queens. Hilarious. 11.07pm.


Sunday 16th August 2026

Up at half eight. Three pages of micro vignettes in a similar vein to those in 2023's September Scrapbook. Me and Jenni watch the film Weapons, then a biopic of Ted Bundy. And later this evening, a History of Hammer Horror documentary. I've eaten some tuna sandwiches, a few bananas and oranges. Jenni was freaked out by some black gunk in my orange. Very funny. OK. 10.28pm.

Monday 17th August 2026

Early morning pages, then eight o'clock bus to Consett. I bought the final bits and pieces for Jen's birthday. Spent a canny chunk of the morning and afternoon making up a folder for her WRITE Festival events info and tickets and wrapping up other stuff for Wednesday. I've eaten two steak meals today. My left shoulder hasn't been too good over the weekend. I'm a bit concerned about it. I did quite a bit of prep on the bus this morning for a workshop, but opted to do other things for the one I'm hosting at Waddy tomorrow. It's going to be based around NaPoWriMo poems that are published in Laughter to Split Glass and some of my other books. I've pulled together the setlist for next Saturday’s Mowbray Park gig. It's basically a ‘best of’ with favourites from this year's sets. I'm hoping to bike before Waddy tomorrow. OK. 10.07pm.


Tuesday 18th August 2026

I got up super early to ride the bike for a while, but outside was still quite wet, so I stayed in and did some copy-ups. I got the half-nine bus to Waddy. I did a run-through of my set for the Sunderland gig. It was twenty-two minutes long and worked well. I then photocopied twenty copies of David Rutherford's new monograph. The paper was quite thin; some of it jammed a bit, but we got there. I had quite a busy workshop using NaPoWriMo stuff. I got home about quarter to five, ate steak and a baked potato. Then I got the bus to Consett and off to Jen's place ahead of her birthday. She has been out with friends at Microbus pub. I fell asleep during a documentary about a Birmingham stalker. Jenni woke me up with chat and chips. Sky Arts intellectualised goth culture. Then a bunch of people said, I'm Spartacus. It will soon be bedtime. 11.29pm.


Wednesday 19th August 2026

Woke up about half seven. Jenni was up about nine o'clock. She enjoyed opening her presents. We had a lazy morning, then went out to town for supplies. I bought a black garment in each of four charity shops. I intend to sew a music band logo patch to each of the plain black zip-up hoodies I own. Later this afternoon, we went out to a restaurant with John and Hilary to celebrate Jen's birthday. Big chicken curry with rice. Very hot. Lovely. After that we went to Station East. Jenni enjoyed chatting with her friends. Hilary played the piano. I talked to John about music and printing. Jenni stayed out, but I returned to the attic around ten o'clock. 0K. 11.03pm.


Thursday 20th August 2026

Back out on the attic landing. Chilly bare arms and legs. Super-loud tinnitus. An aeroplane going overhead...
   Jenni returned to her room around four o'clock this morning after a little drink downstairs with Janet, her landlady. Jenni was very loud, making singing videos to send to a friend, but soon fell asleep. Her snoring lasted about three hours. I don't expect her to surface till at least midday. It might be later.
   I aim to be off home late afternoon as I have Poetry Jam event publicity to do. It's another grey, dreary, wet day and I reckon the riverside trails will be a mess now. Even though they were baked hard as concrete this time last week when the temperature was thirty-one degrees.
   My left shoulder isn't great. I will try to take things easy. I need to make up some copies of “Failed Rock Star” just in case I need any for Saturday's gig in Sunderland at Mowbray Park. I think I'm going to ditch Lessons From The Voice Of Experience from the set in favour of maybe Cigarettes or one of the untried pieces from the new book.
   Last night, John told me about his days as a printer. Huge metal lithograph plates. Five-day stretches of baked beans labels. A horror story about a bloke losing both hands whilst servicing a guillotine.
   Jenni's local, The Station East, where we have performed our poems many times, is like the bar in TV sitcom Cheers. It was good to see people being friendly to one another and buying Jenni birthday drinks. John and Hilary were tired by half nine and left for the bus back to Bensham soon after. I left about ten. Jenni stayed out to have last orders at the Microbus pub a little further down the road.
   I am trying to avoid all the nastiness online about people who don't work because of their health conditions - and the delight some critics take in demonising and humiliating people who are in a position that know-it-all elites clearly, by their comments, know very little about. The trouble with Facebook algorithms is that the more you look at in the feed, the more of the same will be fed to you. I am trying to avoid it.
   So, today will be Poetry Jam admin. And tomorrow will be Failed Rock Star, another rehearsal, and some work for Washington Writers. I hope to get the bulk of their anthology done next week. Along with twenty-five copies of Joan Johnston's pamphlet, "The Lay-By". I also need to make up twenty-five copies of "The Perfect Opportunity" for Waddington Street Centre.
   I hope to get a bike ride next week. I will try to get one tomorrow evening.
   I think I will be going to Sunderland from Consett on Saturday. But maybe I should return to Bensham and travel in with Jenni on the Metro.
   Mister Henry Rollins has an official announcement about his memoir "Dog Bait Boy" on his Facebook page. He says it took him years to write and doesn't think he'll be able to write anything like it again. The cover is by artist Raymond Pettibon, who came up with all the Black Flag flyers. It's a black and white image of a young boy brandishing a cigarette lighter. The book is published in America and UK next March. All being well, if I survive the winter, I will be reading it the week it comes out. It will be interesting to see how it’s written. Lengthy chapters in standard narrative prose? Or shorter vignettes? Something to look forward to next spring anyway.
   Often when I'm doing morning pages, I wonder why I bother. But it's good to be able to get reportage, dreams, ideas and work plans out on paper. It's good to be able to choose words more slowly than in conversation. And it gives me a record of my days and a wealth of material to draw upon. It helps me to organise my thoughts, to rehearse what I might need to say to someone, so I don't get my facts wrong. It allows me to repeatedly focus on a single topic over a few days and get the definitive version of how I want to present information. I often surprise myself. I find that neater handwriting slows me right down to a meditative state, or at least a more relaxed and carefully considered state, from which to compose. When the words are scrawled, they are usually from a frantic or aggressive state.
   Today I am tired. I didn't sleep well. I only have next week before I am busy again. Out and about. There is a bunch of writing workshops to attend in hopes of gleaning ideas I can pass on to my own workshop participants. And it's good to sit on the other side of the desk for a change to get a feel for how challenging writing to order can be. Sometimes I enjoy it. Most of the time it leaves me feeling stressed. Sometimes it makes me question my credibility.
   I'd be lying if I said all this latest shit from the pig-headed wishing to win the next general election didn't bother me. My bipolar condition is likely to keep me far from conventional full-time 9-5 work for the rest of my days. A lot of people have made reassuring comments regarding welfare cuts, saying that it's just political point-scoring theatre; ill-conceived, and those demanding change will never win a general election anyway.
   I have strived for over two decades with workshops and making books for other authors. But none of that will wash with thugs and vindictive voters who want to dictate what is and isn’t deemed proper work. But fuck it. I am what I am. On the way to sixty, body somewhat decrepit.
   The best way I can be of service to any community is to continue doing what I'm good at. I don't always enjoy preparing and delivering creative writing sessions, but I'm pretty good at it. I've been of service to Arts on Prescription from the NHS, provided evening classes to an FE College, and motivational generative workshops for several mental health organisations. If that isn't good enough to satisfy the new political monsters then shoot me. OK. 10.00am.

LATER: Jenni got up around one o'clock this afternoon. I washed some dishes, replaced a poem in my Sunderland set, then the electricity went off. Jenni boiled water on the hob downstairs for noodles and a cup of tea. I ate a cold steak pie. Landlady Janet sorted the leccy later this afternoon. I stayed at Jen's till seven, then caught the X72/A bus to Consett. Then the X15. Two buses took less than an hour from Gateshead to Moorside. Tonight I had another run through the Sunderland set. It's still comes in around twenty-two minutes. Seven of the pieces are in the FAILED ROCK STAR sampler pamphlet. Three of them will be in the next official poetry collection. I'm going to do a bit of physio, then try to get to bed before eleven. I might read a bit of Geoff Hattersley for a while. OK. 10.30pm.

Friday 21st August 2026

Got up to find that I already have enough copies of Failed Rock Star to take to the Sunderland gig tomorrow, so no need to assemble any of the recently printed. The weather forecast wasn't great for this afternoon, so I went out this morning on the Sonder Frontier bike for a mild ride by the riverside. The ground isn’t as solid as last week. Bits of mud on the tyres. I did a stream crossing and almost cleaned a trail section, but nothing too adventurous these days. The left arm can't take it. I'd still like to get down to Watergate Forest Park again at some point. I did Poetry Jam publicity this afternoon and re-sequenced the Washington Anthology file. I will get more done next week. The tinnitus seems really bad today. Luckily, I am able to tolerate it. And I found TV Smith tickets for next month. OK. 10.27pm.


Saturday 22nd August 2026

Up at half six and out just an hour later to Consett and over to Gateshead before travelling onto Sunderland for the day at Mowbray Park, reading poems with AJ McKenna Pip McDonald, James Whitman, David Rutherford and others. I went on about half past two. Then Jenni at three. And Aaron Wright closed the event in great style with site-specific rhymes and bubbles. Jenni and I got tasty wraps at a new food place in Gateshead called Levant. Tonight we watched the Voice and Gameshows. OK. 10.16pm.

Sunday 23rd August 2026

Me and Jenni had food at Norma's flat. Kirstin and Caroline were visiting from Edinburgh. Then an afternoon walk through Saltwell Park, and Jenni showed me how to get to and from the bus stop for the X71 bus. Later, the 47 to Consett was full of football fans. I intended to work at home this evening but felt a bit wiped out. Off to bed soon. OK. 10.56pm.

Monday 24th August 2026

Slow progress on plans for the Waddy workshop. Nine hours, and that's before the seven- or eight-hour day tomorrow: travelling, photocopying, setting up, delivering, and aftermath. Sometimes the activities require few resources. Sometimes there are loads of printed handouts. I took a break around half past five for food, then went out on the Sonder Frontier bike for a couple of hours. I met my cousin Gordon halfway along a trail and chatted for a while. I found some bits of technical trail really tricky tonight. But I'm pleased the weather held up, and I was able to clear my head a bit. Back home, I read through all the papers for tomorrow and discovered that I needed a couple more things copied – so, another hour. But it's what I signed up for over two decades ago. I am a bit short on food. Just enough left till I get to the shops tomorrow evening. I'm tired now and will soon be horizontal. 0K. 11.22pm.


Tuesday 25th August 2026

Only two people in today for the workshop. I was going to save this session I'd spent ten hours planning for a bigger group, but decided to just run with it and was pleased that I did. Memoir, fiction, poetry, microfiction, expansion, scene focus. It was a good first run. I'll be using it again next month in Washington. I got a load of groceries at Consett later this afternoon. Sad to hear of the death of Dolly Parton. Tonight I played a couple of her songs. I uploaded recent Poetry Jam photos and ate a lot of chicken. I switched off the desktop PC as soon as I finished the work. Tomorrow I'll be home all day making up pamphlets for Joan Johnston. OK. 11.25pm.


Wednesday 26th August 2026

The month is flying by, and I am way behind on my admin. Today I made up 25 copies of John Johnston's “The Lay-By” pamphlet. It took me about six hours. I hope to get them delivered by the end of the month. This evening I went out on the Sonder Frontier again. I didn't complete any sections without putting a foot down. I fell off the bike when it was stationary, which is usually the way it goes. I fell backwards when stalled on a dirt mound and slammed into the road. I got up okay, but a few hours later my backside hurts like hell. I wrapped up Joan's pamphlets, then watched some short biking videos. My ears are ringing, and my phone is pinging. And I need a good night's sleep. I don't need to be up early, and I think it's going to rain anyway. OK. 11.02pm.


Thursday 27th August 2026

The desktop computer was excruciatingly slow this morning. Took me over two hours to amend the Poetry Jam poster with a lineup change and do some other updates. By mid-afternoon, all I wanted to do was sleep. This evening I watched a couple of superb mountain bike videos featuring e-bikers riding off-road across Wales. Also, an Aleister Crowley documentary and some eighties and nineties footage of the band Swans. 0K. 10.25pm.


Friday 28th August 2026

Pleased to get a good stab at the blog and the Washington Anthology today. My main soundtrack was Handwriting, the latest studio album by TV Smith (I’m looking forward to seeing him play a Sunday matinee show at The Globe in Newcastle next month). The anthology, even though quite small, is a lot of work. Getting poems to sit balanced on double-page spreads can be tricky, but it’s coming together. I wish I could say the same for my next solo collection. The poems have been spread out on the living room floor since the second week of this month. I’ve only managed two or three sessions at it so far. I only have about a dozen pages of about fifty-six in place. I will probably be shivering on the stone floor this winter, still trying to solve the puzzle. I put in about fifteen hours today, playing with words, mine and others. Knackered. OK. 11.50pm.

Saturday 29th August 2026

Cleaned the Sonder Frontier and took it to Bits4Bikes to have new brake pads fitted, the cassette checked and the bash guard adjusted. First shop maintenance of the year, I think. I had pasta and chips on a bench then bought supplies. I typed and edited all afternoon. Got to Jen's place, via Durham for a change, by half eleven. She's not here. Probably won't see her until tomorrow. OK. 11.40pm.

Sunday 30th August 2026

Didn't sleep so well. This morning I met up with Joan Johnston to give her a run of pamphlets. We chatted about publishing, different kinds of workshops - critique and generative - and sequencing collections of work. This afternoon Jenni and I watched a mint documentary about the history of Irish downhill mountain biking. There was a great version of Leonard Cohen's 'Tower of Song' from Tom Jones on a replay of The Voice. This evening, some episodes of Chewing the Fat. OK. 11.00pm.

Monday 31st August 2026

Most of my writing is just reportage and responses to adversity. I cherry pick the bits that I wish to share and think might make it as book content. Diary, poetry, micro-memoir, whatever. I have no great imaginative fictional ability. 

   My earliest writing influences were the anger, introspection and dirty realism of American counter culture figures such as Rollins, Lunch and Bukowski, with a few European voices in translation to even things out a bit. 

   I wasn't too keen on the UK small press poetry scene initially, but I'm pleased I stuck with it. I'm now more likely to read Geoff Hattersley than Charles Bukowski. And feel more aligned with David Gaffney's flash fiction than the early brutal prose and verse fragments of Henry Rollins. But it's all good. 

   If I could retain more of what I read post-mental breakdown, I'd probably have answered Poetical Outlaws podcast questions differently when asked about favourite poets, lyricists and comedians. 

   Autumn is coming. My tastes change with the seasons. In another month I'll probably switch to my gothic horror phase for a while. I know very little about metaphysics and the supernatural - but I can enjoy the darkness for a while before winter makes things difficult. 

   I wasn't going to use anything from today's morning pages, but this is probably a good way to end the blog. 

   Back to school for kids this week. Back to service with a smile. 

   I'm lucky and grateful to still get to host writing workshops, given how insular my own personal approach to creativity often actually is. But I'm sure there'll be useful stuff to pass on to people over the coming months.

   Thanks for reading. OK. 10.03am. 

   

JULY

Wednesday 1st July 2026

Finally got a bike ride. A nice tailwind made for a fairly swift climb to Parkhead Station first thing this morning. Then I sped back down in a high gear. Felt good. T-shirt, shorts, no backpack. The rest of the day has been devoted to the Waddington Street Writers’ anthology. Corrections are marked up. I still have page margins to fix. It should all be pretty good to print by Saturday. Then I’ll need a couple of days next week to assemble and trim. I should prep the next Washington workshop soon so I can devote the rest of my time to pulling stuff together for Waddy. I've eaten a fair amount of roast chicken today. I feel a bit knackered now. I hope to get all the work done. It takes so long to pull things together. OK. 10.59pm.

Thursday 2nd July 2026

Another long day. I keep waking up super early. I printed and assembled a few copies of my July 2023 pamphlet 'Soon Will Come Thunder'. They just need the covers inking up. I did some copy-ups. Then put in a couple of hours on the Waddy anthology. It's almost good to go now. But a few tweaks will now revert to the previous state due to a writer’s change of mind. I'm still waiting on a word edit. The three o'clock bus didn't run today. It came through Moorside and went to Castleside but didn't return. I got to Waddy at quarter to five. Set up for the Poetry Jam and had a great turnout. All the guests were on top form: Mel Chilekwa, James Oates and Kirsten Luckins. Identity pieces, poems of place, lost companions, a lot of bird and plant poems. Great open floor people as well. I read 'Dear Kryptonics Denny Reardon Skateboard' and 'Neglected'. Took me an hour to clear up after the event. There is a window open on the last bus, so I've got my hood up. 11.19pm.

Friday 3rd July 2026

Chuffed to be almost there with the Waddy anthology. Awaiting confirmation on changes to one poem. This afternoon I proofed more of my own stuff then made a little promo poster for The Cooking Pot at Baba Yaga’s of Whitley Bay, at which I’m doing a headline set this coming Monday. Mostly older stuff. I'll be reading some prose pieces from 'Soon Will Come Thunder'. I don't really like much dance music, but the new Madonna album ‘Confessions Vol 2’ has a bunch of good tracks on it. I've seen Madge three times: Blonde Ambition 1990, The Girlie Show 1993, and Drowned World 2001. Then I drifted a bit. I needed time off this evening. OK. 11.51pm.

Saturday 4th July 2026

Sat at home all day waiting for info to finalise the anthology but didn't get it. Now I'll have to wait till Monday. I tried to rehearse tonight, but I'm so fucking annoyed and absolutely knackered, I just can't do much. Tried reading but couldn't. I managed to get some exercises sorted for the next two writing workshops. This year is flying by, and I've done very little biking. Fucked! 11.13pm.

Sunday 5th July 2026

I wanted to bike this afternoon but didn't dare risk anything happening that might prevent assembling and trimming of books mid-week. I only managed one rehearsal today for tomorrow's Cooking Pot gig. I've eaten tuna, baked beans and baked potato for three days in a row. Haven't been out since Thursday. 10.02pm.


Monday 6th July 2026

Received clarification at eight o'clock this morning of the correct version of a poem to include in the anthology. Got colour covers printed. Made up a test version. It's pretty much there. Just a couple of page numbers to centre and a margin to tweak. I was in Newcastle this afternoon buying assorted coloured Canson for endpapers. Then I went to Jen's place. Ate chicken. We reached Whitley Bay in good time for Baba Yaga's opening at seven o'clock. My set went down well. I enjoyed reading music-related material. People were very generous. Sold some books as well. Christine Fowler read. Jenni, Steve Lancaster, Penny Blackburn, Jen Wilson, Andrew Mears - lots of people. It was a good night. OK. 11.38pm.

Tuesday 7th July 2026

Thankfully, we have the Waddy anthology printed. I will assemble and trim tomorrow, and on Thursday if necessary. The contributors, bar one, have seen an advance copy and are chuffed with it. The pamphlet will have assorted colour Canson endpapers and a great piece of art on the wraparound cover. I'm chuffed with how the layout has finally come together. This evening, I have been trying to choose favourite poets, comedians and lyricists to mention on the Poetical Outlaws podcast, which will be recorded next Monday. I admire loads of writers and speakers, but I don't seem to be able to pinpoint any living figures as definitive favourites. I've watched a fair few Simon Armitage clips this evening. He knows his stuff. My brain doesn't work well enough. OK. 10.11pm.

Wednesday 8th July 2026

I should be feeling triumphant. Another little booklet project in the can. I decided to look at it again this evening. The penultimate file that was printed as a test copy had all the correct changes on it, so why wasn't that one used for the actual print run? I did everything I could to produce a top-notch publication for the Waddy Writers. Unfortunately, a slip-up means one of the writers is probably going to be really annoyed on launch day. The file on my stick was the correct file, which I sent to the office to get printed because technical support wouldn't be available by the time I arrived later that morning. The file printed from the office was correct and verified by a senior member of staff. The file used to make final margin and page number tweaks that was used for the full print run contained changes one writer no longer wanted. Fuck! 11.55pm.

Thursday 9th July 2026

Awful day. Up till quarter to four this morning, drafting a letter to Waddy about using the wrong file to print the anthology. It might be alright if one of the writers decides their changes were for the best after all. This, however, has not helped me feel anything but failure and rage. I spent weeks getting the MS just right, and a momentary lapse has caused it to be less than it should be. It took me about three hours to prepare a workshop for tomorrow, which required only two handouts and a few paste-ups in my notebook. Another day of waiting. Hope the anthology proves to be okay. 10.35pm.

Friday 10th July 2026

Awake at ten to five, or thereabouts. Knocked out another set of brutal morning pages. Up about seven and still managed to spread my breakfast and personal hygiene out until quarter past eight. I got to the Arts Centre by eleven. The workshop took about five minutes to set up. It worked well: Finish the sentence, Free write, Six-sentence paragraph, Tiny Tales into Four-paragraph Flash Fiction, Theoretical Essay, Objects and Lies, and Resistentialism Vignettes. Good one. Thanks to Nicola Spain for the card and end-of-sessions box of chocolates. Thanks to Alwyn, who was sympathetic to my gripes, for the lift to Gateshead. The bus from Metro Centre to Consett was super slow and hellishly hot. Big grilled steak and cheese sandwiches for tea. No word from Waddy, so I don't know if the anthology was well-received. Too hot to do much. Slept a lot this evening. 10.27pm.

Saturday 11th July 2026

Up at five. More scribbles about the Waddy book. Received an email saying it was fine and yesterday's readings went well. I got out on the bike after dinner. Terrible ride. Only improving near the end on the way home. I did some housework and had a big baked potato with beans and tuna. Bag-pack then off to Jen's. Football on TV. OK. 10.26pm.


Sunday 12th July 2026

Slow day. Took until lunchtime to muster up the energy to go buy food. Then I started getting too warm. I've slept a lot. Jenni and I pulled together blurb info for a double-header gig we are doing. Details to be confirmed. I ate a pie that was all pastry and no steak. Consequently, Jenni wangled me a £5 complimentary voucher from the supermarket. This evening I've mostly been too hot. I really need to be asleep soon. 11.12pm.


Monday 13th July 2026

Spent a couple of hours in Sunderland to record a piece for Poetical Outlaws podcast with Gary the Hat at his seafront flat. Then a nice veggie curry in Newcastle with Jenni, her mam Hilary, and John. Big thanks to Ms Lydia Lunch for signing three books for me at The Lubber Fiend venue in Newcastle this evening after her forty-five-minute set with Mark Hurtado. The music, all keyboard-generated, was pretty intense. I was amazed that Lydia sat at the merch table straight afterwards, the same table that was bare when I was there an hour earlier. I'd have preferred to hear songs by her band Big Sexy Noise rather than a full set of Suicide covers - but hey, maybe next time. I asked if it would be possible to get a photo with her. "Come back in five minutes," she said. I waited until the merch queue came to an end. "Come on then," Lydia said. "Sit down next to me." I did as I was told. Sebastian, the merch guy, took the photo. Lydia said she was initially concerned about ticket sales, but the gig turned out okay. "Thanks for coming back to Newcastle," I said, mega chuffed. Then I got a Metro to Gateshead and talked to Jen at the Microbus pub, met her friends, then walked back to Bensham. Workshop at Waddy tomorrow. OK. 11.34pm.

Tuesday 14th July 2026

Too exhausted for a workshop this afternoon but made the effort. Twelve out of the initial thirty copies of the Waddy anthology remain – and one of the contributors hasn't received his yet. I fell asleep on the bus home. Have read a bit of the new Lydia Lunch pocketbook that she signed last night. But other than that, all I've done is doom scroll, then record three audio clips as backup tracks for the Poetical Outlaws podcast. Oh, and I finally got around to putting baking soda on the kitchen carpet, so hopefully it will lift some smells out of it. I'll hoover up in the morning. I might read in bed, but I might not. I still have a ton of editing to do this summer. Some days, I just want to jack all this writing lark in. But people are kind and keep me going. OK. 11.10pm.


Wednesday 15th July 2026

I meant to make a new morning pages notebook but forgot. I went to Whitley Bay for the launch of Kay Wilson's new novel, ‘The Allotment Sisterhood’ at 'the bound' bookshop (which I was surprised to find is run by Helen Young, who I haven't seen in over forty years; she grew up in Bridgehill, a few streets away from me, over the road from Andrew Earnshaw). Vic Watson interviewed Kay, who was very entertaining and gave great insights into her characters, her process and the challenges she faced in bringing the book to publication. And she had a fantastic turnout. Very well done. Kay very kindly signed a copy of the novel for me and entrusted me with two more for Washington Writers. The journey home took three hours, door to door. I had a cheese sandwich and some nuts. I have lots of books to read. OK. 11.44pm.


Thursday 16th July 2026

I've tried to work all day but kept falling asleep. Probably the first month in ages that I've not got Poetry Jam event info out on the Thursday two weeks before the gig. I will do it tomorrow. All I managed today was a new morning pages notebook and a week of catch-up notes. I think I'm ready for a month off. Years ago, I never did any real work from the end of the summer term to the start of autumn. I read for pleasure, rode bikes, watched videos and listened to music – recharged the batteries. I've done at least one workshop every week this year since mid-January. I used to do four or five a week per term. It would kill me now. I've read a bit of "Lydia Lunch: The War Is Never Over", have listened to "Staircase" and "Try Me" by Beirut Slump. OK. 10.41pm.


Friday 17th July 2026

Poetry Jam publicity is done. I've made up a preliminary test copy of Christine Fowler's pamphlet; there’s quite a bit of reformatting work to do on it. I went out on my Sonder bike tonight. Only about ninety minutes. I didn't ride well. I've strained my left shoulder again. Compared to this time last year, I am not fit. And due to being away a lot lately, I've slipped up with physio. Tonight, I listened to a Marco Pirroni podcast. Former guitarist for Adam Ant, Marco toured with Sinead O'Connor in 1990. I saw him four times that year. He says he doesn't like playing live these days. His memoir, "Your Money or Your Life", is due this September and is mostly about punk and Antmusic. I read an online interview which didn't paint Marco in a good light. I'm tired a lot of the time. I'm done for the week. No book work till Monday. OK. 11.40pm.


Saturday 18th July 2026

Bit of a lie-in. Then removed all the brambles growing onto the path by the back door. I was in Newcastle this afternoon for more Canson endpapers. Jenni and I watched Speak No Evil, starring James McElvoy, a really good dark thriller. Then two episodes of Ann Droid starring Sue Johnston and Diane Morgan. OK. 11.05pm.


Sunday 19th July 2026

Disappointed with how little I've achieved this year, given how quickly the months are flying by. Another shoulder strain and lower back pain make biking off-road seem pointless. I haven't done any recent sequencing of poems for the new book. I've eaten a lot of crisps and chocolate today. Watched a few true crime documentaries on TV and a retro Coustellier St Blaize trials bike review on YouTube. OK. 10.57pm.


Monday 20th July 2026

Not very productive. I was up late last night. Didn't finish morning pages till ten o'clock. After a tuna crunch sandwich, I left Jen's around quarter to one for the X70 to Consett. I bought another pack of photographic card for booklet covers, some shortbread biscuits and Warburtons thins. Back home, I washed shorts and a T-shirt in the kitchen sink, prepped a load of exercises for the next few Waddy workshops. Then more tuna – this time with a big baked potato and salad. I fell asleep for an hour then read about seventy pages of "A Dance With Ghosts" by Kevin Brooks. Very easy prose. Able to retain enough to follow the story without having to backtrack too much. I've done a bit of notebook catch-up, but not much real work. I wanted to bike tonight but was too tired, and I thought the shoulder needs more rest. I'm way behind on editing. I'll do some on Wednesday and Thursday. Hope to get started on my Red Squirrel Press book soon. 10.28pm.


Tuesday 21st July 2026

Today was okay. But only one person was in the writing session with me at Waddington Street Centre this afternoon. We did: What Matters?, Triolet, Journal Prompts and Golden Shovels. I got a Thank-You from the operations manager for the Waddy anthology. I went to Chester-le-Street after the session. Boyes had the pale blue Easy Note A6 slim notebooks I've been using for Gratitude Journal for the last fourteen years. The four I've just bought should last me till January 2030. I've no idea what situation I'll be in by then, financially or creatively. I finished reading "A Dance With Ghosts" by Kevin Brooks around twenty to midnight. I always think of novels as TV drama in words on paper instead of voices and moving images onscreen. Neither better nor worse. OK. 11.45pm.


Wednesday 22nd July 2026

Sometimes I wonder if I want to keep writing. Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I just stopped. I won't, of course, coz it's what keeps me going, and that's the only thing I can do that could be deemed work. Even though a lot of people see it as folly, I see it as a necessary tool to keep my head together. Today I went out on my twenty-year-old Rockhopper bike. I rode through Castleside, then Muggleswick woods, then up to Parkhead Station by road, down to Edmundbyers then a lap of the Derwent Reservoir, up onto the A68, down past Allensford and up to Castleside, then home – about four hours. It's the longest ride I've done this year. There won't be any multiple-day rides like the C2C, which I did last year. Once was enough. Next ride will be on riverside trails on the Sonder adventure bike. Hot upstairs. OK. 10.30pm.


Thursday 23rd July 2026

Pretty bad aches and pains in wrists and crook of left arm. Four hours on a bike yesterday was too much for my pathetic body after very little warm-up this year. Today I keyed in notes, watched some BBC website writing stuff: "Don't talk about your ideas, don't buy more books, don't go on courses, just get the damn thing written." – which was summed up very concisely on the title track of the very first Rollins Band album I ever heard, a cover version of a Pink Fairies song called DO IT. So what the fuck has the last 37 years been all about? I sifted through some of my recent drafts from the workshops. I'm being brutal about what to copy out afresh and what to reject. If I live to be a hundred, I'm not going to use everything. I have more than enough material waiting already... It was good to see Pip McDonald and Gary Robertson in conversation on the Poetical Outlaws podcast today. The next one will feature Aaron Wright. OK. 10.27pm.


Friday 24th July 2026

I listened to Pip MacDonald on the Poetical Outlaws podcast last night. Gary filmed it with three cameras. It looked great. Pip talked about her influences, including a poet that she met via Zoom during lockdown, and early beginnings listening to prog rock with her dad. Pip’s first writings were song lyrics in her teens. She cited Joyce Grenfell and Victoria Wood as comedy influences. Just Think Phil is one of her favourite living poets. And she really bigged up the city of Sunderland.
   Gary and Pip chattered about their experiences at Durham University whilst studying philosophy.
   I don't think the next episodes were filmed with multiple camera angles. I don't remember there being more than one when I was there a couple of weeks ago.
   Today I will facilitate my final Arts Centre Washington writing workshop of the current block. It's basically just a bit of an easy-going 'play with some previous forms and prompts' type of day.
   I don’t know what to wear. It's supposed to be sixteen degrees by nine o'clock, a little warmer by mid-afternoon. There's a mix of grey and blue up above at present, indoors and out.
   I came down to that fucking stale odour again this morning. I got down on my hands and knees and sniffed the kitchen carpet - it smelled okay. I think it must be the sink. It never gets enough hot water down it. I will buy more baking soda and use white vinegar as well. Also, I'll spend the day decluttering everything. I need to spend about a week tidying up downstairs. I have a feeling I'll be trashing a lot of recent spare workshop handouts. I just don't have the space for them. I went through a couple of recent workshop notebooks last night. There are quite a few pieces that I want to copy up. And there are some journaling excerpts from sessions I'd like to get into a desktop notebook as well. It's a lot of work just to get on top of the recent output. I have no idea how to go about using any of it.
   I caught a little BBC writers clip on Facebook yesterday. Lisa Holdsworth: "Forget about buying more books, stop going to courses, just get the damn thing written. It should be awful in the first draft. It's meant to be. But then you go back and get it as good as you can - that's when the magic happens."
   And I kind of agree. But not wishing to bite the hand that feeds any more than I already have done in recent days, I feel I've written some pretty good performance pieces in workshops, my own and others. I should be submitting to magazines, but I'm not enamoured by many that I've seen in recent years, and I've already bought loads of stuff to read. I want to spend more time at home getting stuff edited, not doing yet more first drafts. In the next couple of years, hopefully, I'll be consolidating my scraps and vignettes and getting better drafts into shape and finding ways to make bigger and better books. Having said all that, I've just ordered a 40th Anniversary copy of “Human Geography” – Simon Armitage's debut pamphlet. I can't remember if it was originally published by Smith Doorstop or the Wide Skirt Press, but it's now reproduced in a lavish signed version from Faber and Faber. I got a notification from the Royal Mail saying it will be arriving on Saturday between 9.15am and 11.15am, so it's just as well I'll be home tomorrow morning.
   I'm going to For Better or Verse at Blackhill Club this evening. I wanted to go just to be a listener, but I might read a thing or two on open mic. I'd really like to try out Tickle a Brick, which was written about my days in the warehouse just before we were all made redundant. But a lot of it is about language, pronunciation and accent. I'd struggle at present, I think, to do it justice. It's one of those pieces that could benefit from Apples and Snakes coaching, like we got about thirteen years ago from Kirsten Luckins at Scratch Tyne and Tees clubs. Usually, though, I just let the emotion of the piece come through my projection, and I don't really choreograph my movement or gestures. I mainly animate my words with my natural (some say unnatural) energy. And I don't codify what I do; I don't have a performance vocabulary, despite spending over a year around budding young theatre practitioners a couple of decades ago.
   I can’t remember all the stuff I've prepped for the session today. But all I really need to do is check my notebook from Tuesday. I’ll do another lucky dip. Serendipity gave a good structure to the session on Tuesday. Pity there were just two of us in the room. I'm expecting about half a dozen today. But we're getting into the holiday season now, so it's wise to take a break for the next six weeks and come back fighting fit in September with new material.
   And speaking of new material, I hope I've got a decent set of clothes left for today. At some point, I'll have to trouble Jen to wash some trousers for autumn engagements, few as they are. What will I read at Blackhill this evening? I aim to rework my Leonard Cohen ~2 poem. The quote used on Tuesday about poetry being ash wasn't 100% accurate so my golden shovel requires some rewrites. A real golden shovel would be good for moving quite a bit of ash. Anyway, time for breakfast. OK. 7.10am.

Because the 78 Sunderland bus from Consett reached Chester-le-Street five minutes earlier than the 8 Sunderland bus from Stanley, I was able to alight from the former and board the latter to reach Arts Centre Washington for my fortnightly workshop half an hour earlier than usual. I did five lucky dips from a pile of sixteen exercises to determine the running order of activities for the group's final session of the current block, and it worked well: Take Three Nouns, Tricubes, Written in the Style of Yellow, My Box and Newspaper Headline Monologue. Big thanks to all who attended so far this year. Big thanks to Alwyn Bathan for a tin of chocolates and a lift to Gateshead. I was out tonight at For Better or Verse in Blackhill. It was great. Shamie Khan performed quite a bit from memory, and Cat Bell was sensational. Some ace open floor poems as well. Gary the Hat's Philosophy, Kevin Robson's Shoplifter, Tony Gadd's Pink Slice, and host Steve Wood's Inappropriate Songs on Hospital Radio. Great turns all round. Good to walk there and back and to try out a couple of new pieces of my own. OK. 11.50pm.

Saturday 25th July 2026

I'm at home this weekend. I read the 40th anniversary signed edition of Simon Armitage's 'Human Geography' debut pamphlet. I already own some of the poems republished in 'Zoom!' but it was nice to see the original running order and a new introduction, even though I struggled with a fair bit of content. I'm used to more direct, shorter lines. I've started to trawl through my January morning pages. They are pretty dark and disturbing. I don't know what they will end up like as a book, but there’s only one way to find out... I have a bit more physio to do, then bed. OK. 10.21pm.


Sunday 26th January 2026

Spent the whole day pulling poems together for my next big collection. This evening I worked up a few more recent pieces from notebooks and am pleased that I'm still able to prune lines, make decent shapes on the page, and get ideas across. I hope selecting and sequencing isn't too difficult. OK. 11.10pm.


Monday 27th July 2026

I had a canny little ride in the woods near Shotley Bridge on the Sonder Frontier bike this morning. I can't do anything too daring, especially now I've got a dodgy left shoulder, but I enjoyed weaving about through the woods, getting over some tree roots here and there, and through a few streams. I wasted about three hours this afternoon trying to reposition the internet display on my computer monitor. It's fine on Word and Publisher, put web pages are annoyingly offset to the right, so I am unable to scroll. Can't upload to Facebook, won't be able to do the blog until it’s sorted. I've got 106 poems printed out on A5 pieces of paper and will whittle them down to a 68-page collection over the rest of the summer. My bad mood about the computer was making me doubt my ability to put a new book together, but by the end of the session, I thought that I've got a lot of good material to draw on. Should be a good one. OK. 11.42pm.


Tuesday 28th July 2026

Woke about half five this morning. Stayed in bed until eight. A shave took my final blade. I wrote about the new book. 106 poems to be whittled down to about 70. I returned an excellent Kevin Brooks novel to Consett library. And bought a couple of black t-shirts from a charity shop. Got a free replacement nose pad on my glasses at the optician's. The Waddy workshop was a repeat of Washington's from last Friday. Only two people in. We finished just before three o'clock. I came home, defrosted the freezer again, then went out for food. Three buses went by me out of service. The one back home from Tesco was half an hour late. Two bags of shopping. Too tired to walk. Too tired for much tonight. Can't do any online work until the computer is fixed. I hate being dependent on technology. I just scrolled on the mobile for a while and will be in bed early. OK. 9.43pm.

Wednesday 29th July 2026

Thought I smelt gas this morning, so had an emergency call out. Turns out there wasn't a leak, but the workman was quite taken aback when told that the chimney had been blocked off inside the new roof and that I haven't used any gas for the best part of five years. He cut off the supply for safety reasons. I will need a new combi boiler before winter to prevent damp and avoid the risk of pipes freezing. The hassle of getting the house sorted before winter will be a pain. I am not really cut out for domestic upheaval. And I can't really afford it either. The back boiler is nearly 40 years old. No work on my new book today, but I sorted the screen display and web browser problems on my computer. Then spent a lot of time decluttering my living room. OK. 11.48pm.


Thursday 30th July 2026

Got the fear reading online that just because the gas supply to my house has been cut off, it doesn't mean the old redundant back boiler is safe to leave standing with a sealed-off flue. I phoned my cousin, plumber Flush Gordon, who assured me that's not the case and I’ll be fine. From mid-morning onwards, I’ve devoted my time to destroying perfectly good workshop handouts and other papers that are cluttering the house. The living room is mostly cleared. I've got rid of loads from the bedroom and am storing piles of books by the unused radiator until I determine how many bookcases are needed for the back room, which at present is just an unholy mess of books, files, magazines, clothes, boxes - all sorts. My place was always spotless before I became a writing facilitator in 2003. I need a solid month to get it looking anywhere near good again. OK. 9.48pm.

Friday 31st July 2026

A calm morning. Nice to see a window ledge that isn’t covered in detritus for a change.
   The big expanse of beige living room carpet is back, only a few more stacks of books to move upstairs.
   The months are flying by. I’m a bit sad for the loss of biking ambitions this year, but don’t want to risk any more body damage after the hernia and torn bicep. I haven’t done any over-fifties physical exercises for a while. I’ve kind of fallen off the wagon. I’m hoping to get out on the bike again for an hour this morning.
   I don’t expect to be doing much in terms of public events throughout August besides Poetry Jam and my weekly writing session at Waddington Street Centre. I will be more focused on book work at home.
   There is probably enough material in the scores of notebooks stacked up in my bedroom to keep me busy for a decade, so I might ease back on new drafts for a while.
   I don’t think many people are eager for a continuous internal monologue from an eccentric, cantankerous fiftysomething fool such as myself. Do other so-called independent authors ramble on about their domestic trifles? Probably not.
   I have umpteen choices of books to read in the coming months, including Defying Gravity – Jordan’s Story; Kay Wilson’s novel The Allotment Sisterhood; The Collected Poems of Geoff Hattersley (when it arrives); the rest of Lydia Lunch: The War is Never Over; Shotley Bridge Murders by Bobby Cussens; a load of Julia Eff autobiographical zines; or some Clive Barker; or Paul Morley’s Joy Division Piece By Piece, etc, etc.
   Joan Johnston has requested a second printing of her pamphlet, The Lay-By. There’s a long-overdue Washington Writers Anthology to edit and print. And a couple of solo author pamphlet commissions to work on. Busy, busy. 9.00am.

LATER: I did a clean lap of some of my favourite little technical trail sections near the River Derwent on my Sonder Frontier bike this morning. I’m taking things easy this afternoon. I might get Poetry Jam photos uploaded this evening. It’s been a bit of a trying month. Thanks for reading. 4.08pm.