Scouring my mental alleyways.

I’ve been keeping a writer’s notebook for a little while. Or, as I sometimes call it, my ‘Little Black Book’. And now feels like a good time to look through it, for some blogging inspiration. I invented a word, and now feels like a good time for something organic and freeflow: More


Pynter Bender.

That is the name of the boy whose life I have just been reading about. He may not be real, but as I heard recently:

“Everything we say is true. Just not all of it happens” – The Liars, Orpheus and Eurydice as performed by the National Youth Theatre.

The book is by Jacob Ross, an inspirational writer who I have had the pleasure of meeting – his site can be found here. I am writing this immediately after finishing the book, so please excuse any slips of grammar or style as it is gone 1am.


4am haikus.

 The dark hours.

Dawn lies shattered, slow
darkness bleeds ‘neath blue clockwork.
Time tends to our scars.

Call of the Muse.

Filigree of thought,
webs of dreams. Night calls,
I answer, pen in hand.


Bitter precision.
Backbiting tongues, sky-black as
snakes absent of stars.

The Post Office:


'Quintconsequential' is a word of my own invention, despite the definition in the style of the Oxford English Dictionary featured on the site. By all means, use it, whisper it, shout it from the rooftops. But please, remember that you heard it here first!