Every now and then I’m jolted into action and realise that if I want to call myself a writer, I should do more than do laundry, cook dinner, wash the kitchen surfaces, iron pillowcases and rewax the floors. What follows are excerpts from my brain.
The third chapter of my love story for the times in which we live sees Liz at work in a world that changed.
Liz and Nod Hello Man – or Brett as she now knows him to be called – reach the main road. On any other day, four lanes of traffic would rattle towards the city centre. Today, Liz hears bird song. Brett’s grey gimlet eyes narrow. ‘That’s weird,’ he says. Liz snorts. ‘Perhaps all the sensible […]
7.30am. How did she sleep through another alarm? Liz knows her boss will have a fit when she rolls in late. It’s Tuesday. Strategy brainstorm day. Everyone gets to stare at the boardroom table and wish their lives shorter while this week’s sacrificial lamb flicks through six drab PowerPoint slides and explains away disappointing sales […]
Without human contact, we’ll retreat to darkened rooms only to emerge blinking into the light one week later, holding up an arthritic claw and declaring we’ve completed Pornhub.
Age before beauty makes no sense. If our society valued growing old over looking young, magazines like Best would carry adverts for wrinkle cream not anti-wrinkle cream. Grey pride would be a thing. Paris Fashion Week would major on fleece fabric and loose-fitting slacks with elasticated ankle cuffs. The other day on a bus, a […]