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A quick Welsh lesion

21 Nov 2001

Welsh is a rich, historical language. It was invented in 1953 by the Welsh comedian and astronomer, Griff Rhys Jones. His basic premise was to confuse American tourists who can barely speak English. As part of the fabrication of Welsh, Griff Rhys Jones wrote the "Teach Yourself: Welsh" book, which is colloquially known as "Tyw," a Welsh word meaning "without a grammar section."


15 Jul 2007

On especially cold days they didn't even open the curtains. The landlord had let the frames shrink in the elements these past few years, and if given its freedom an otherwise imperceptible draught would gradually chill the room. That year was so cold that, in mid-January, she taped the edges of the curtains to the wall.

Visions and revisions

17 Nov 2001

I stopped at the gate, one hand on the dry wood. The church stood, calmly observing me even as I frowned at it. Unable to push the gate open, I merely applied some of my weight to it. It creaked, sounding tired. Whereas the church felt like some sort of sentinel (although stood at-ease) on my immediate horizon, the gate was happy just to wait, for my decision to push or not to push, to wait for its eventual retirement and decay.

Girls' night out

1 Oct 2001

"I look like shit."

Angela was staring into the wide dressing-table mirror in Kim's bedroom. Her hair was lank and lay flat on her head. Scattered around her were pots of foundation and moisturiser, and eyeliner and eyeshadow.

"Say again, Ang," Kim called from the kitchenette in her other room. She walked through into the bedroom, and Angela repeated to her: "I look like shit." Kim's face broke into sympathy. "Oh, don't say that, Angela. Come on, darling." She put her hands on Angela's shoulders, bare apart from dress and bra straps.

A little bit of espionage

23 Sep 2001

I don't know how much of this is clever, how much is clever-clever, or how much is obvious or complete rubbish. But it all struck me as interesting, so I reproduce it here. I'm only really still at the stage of discovering how these strange things called "stories" actually work, so I crave the indulgence of the more cogent critic.


If you haven't read the story itself yet, you might want to do so. It's only five chapters and it's faultless and beautiful, you bloody philistines. It starts here.