I knew I should've brought a bigger stick.

(I've knocked off one of its legs, though)

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I suppose this profile’s been vague and not terribly interesting for long enough. I’ll be more specific and not terribly interesting today, then.

Okay - so here I am, suffering from positional vertigo and arrested development, living in an old house that hates me, in what was once a socialist republic oop north in t’ UK.

Generally, it's a quiet life these days. I regale the patient few with the delights of living beside a dual carriageway, with occasional exciting instalments involving spiders, or sparrows, sparrow hawks and other people’s cats. Misdeeds involving wheelie bins have been known to put in an appearance, too, though I maintain that's by special request.

A few bits ‘n’ pieces of my frivolity have been published online in The Slant (I swear the current hiatus is not my fault...) and some stories at Bloodlust.UK (where I did a stint as sub-editor, later, too - that was great). Now I seem to have got myself taken on as an occasional reviewer at SF Crowsnest. That seems a bit odd bearing in mind that I rarely read reviews myself, or even blurbs, usually pick books in spite of their cover art rather than because of it and wouldn't know a current trend if it booted me in the face. I do love to read, though.

Now of course, like everyone else, I’ve got novels on the go. Like everyone else, I wonder why and hang my head and gripe about how bad they are. That’s what this journal’s about mostly - but I try to give fair warning so that you can run away when I’m about to waffle on about writerish stuff. Or if anything angst-y or political raises its ugly head.

What else? Ummm... Husband, no kids but we have a big motorbike. (Well, my beloved has the motorbike, but the pillion seat is mine.) And I’m old, but only chronologically, so don’t hold that against me.

Friending policy? If you want to friend me, please feel free. If I don't friend you back, please don't feel slighted - it's because I'm sporadically inclined and have probably lost track of what I'm supposed to be doing this week, not because I don't like the look of you.