enter the exterminator – scraping foetus off the wheel

I just cleaned my hearing aids. This may not seem much to you, but as my youngest son pointed out, a cybernetic organism that can self-repair? That’s SkyNet-tastic.
Flee or die, puny humanity!
I have to say, having these hearing aids has really opened up my life all over again. All the wee sounds I hadn’t heard for so long I’d forgotten they were there, all the subtleties of music – especially cymbals – that for four-and-a-half years or so, I’d lost…
I got a message on twitter earlier, asking where ‘1919 (outside)’ was. And the answer is, now that the dust is settling in the ‘real world (so-called), I’m pretty much freed up to start working on revising ‘outside’ again.
Yesterday, I attempted to buy a desk – and a filing cabinet – from a shop that appears not to exist. I’ll try again tomorrow. By next week, I should have somewhere I can sit comfortably to write once more. That’s the plan, anyhoo.

Why not use your face to read the novel that started it all? 1919 (inside)


If Scottish literature can be thought of as an elderly, overweight gentleman with savage diarrhea, 1919 (inside) is the land-mine he just stepped on.
Do it – do it NOW – for Diana.


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