brixton market shines
like scrubbed tin and polished rust
a net made of eyes
The Ugly One bought me a dalek mug as a late Christmas present, which cheered me up somewhat. It may be the weather, or my bipolar tendencies, but for the last few days I’ve been feeling flat, rather like Bilbo Baggins who has been stretched too thin like too little butter over a piece of bread.
This was slightly assuaged by another acceptance from a magazine.
I have made a resolution to try and finish my novel this year. I have been writing it for about ten years so it’s high time I made an effort. I’ve got to Chapter Nineteen with one murder, a weird sexual act and some high tension chases across London. Maybe I should put those in the novel to make it more interesting.
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