“I have no idea where we’ll be by later today.”

It’s been a very long 24 hours since I wrote that line.  

My Mum is now in hospital and I don’t have much news, mainly because of the ’vid, which means I couldn’t go with her, can’t visit, and the hospital are clearly so overwhelmed that the small niceties like updates have been in short supply. I spoke to a nurse this morning (long long time finding the courage to ring) and my Mum is apparently sitting up awake in the chair next to her bed and chatting but we have no idea what that means. We’ve been here before with nurses who paint a false picture of reality as they see it rather than the reality we know. It happened with my Dad so I’m not getting too hopeful. I don’t know how awake is “awake” or how lucid is “talking”.

I hope I can explain more about the events of yesterday in the coming days but until then I’d be foolish to speculate and, damn my hypocrisy, I do not want to tempt fate or provoke ye God or Gods.

I just wanted to write a brief update and to say to the people who reached out to me that I consider you true friends even though we’ve never actually met. I don’t have many friends – okay, I have almost none which is why my family have always been so tight and close – but just these little bits of kindness have meant so much. It’s been a strange week. Simply in non-virtual terms, the people who have helped me the most (other than those closest to me) are people who I might never have guessed would have been there for me. The people I thought might be there for me, we’ll let’s just say that a religious faith doesn’t necessarily translate into good deeds.

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It’s a cool domain name and it was available. Yes, I know. Available. Crazy, isn’t it?


Yes. It also helps that it’s also my favourite satire written by Alexander Pope, one of the most metrically pure English poets who also knew his way around a crude insult or two. If you’ve not read it, you should give it a try.

So this is satire, right?

Can’t deny it. There will be some. But it’s also an experiment in writing and drawing, giving work away for free in order to see how many people are willing to support a writer doing his thing. It’s the weird stuff that I wouldn’t get published elsewhere in this word of diminishing demands and cookie-cutter tastes.