puppet life – punishment of luxury

I’m at that stage now with coalface where I feel like the puppet master – my wee creations are flitting about, doing my bidding (for the most part!) and the plot is progressing reasonably smoothly. Ok, this never lasts, but for now, I’m enjoying the experience of watching the in-skull movie unfold.
This weather’s killing me. My DNA’s pretty much Welsh/Scots, so I’m just not genetically wired for there being a yellow ball hanging in the sky, burning flesh and making under clothes hot ‘n’ moist.
And, while we’re on the subject, why’s the sky itself that fucking colour? What’s wrong with grey, the way the sky gods intended?
It’s even affected the musics I’m listening to – moby, gorrilaz, echo and the bunnymen… This canny be right!
Back to work today after two weeks free of the damn place. I wonder what’s changed in my absence?

now, why not read the novel that started it all? 1919 (inside)


It’ll be our secret – mum and dad need never know!


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