Tag: writing
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Stitches on the Wind: In Celebration of Dolly Parton (1946 to 2026)
A quiet thread drifting through Smoky Mountain mist. A mother’s quick hands, scraps of cloth, a warmth that lingers long after the music fades into air. I hear that song and time just dissolves;a little coat of rags floating upstream, carrying all of us back to a love so bright it leaves tears in the…
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Boots on Other Feet
I recently saw a post on a local community Facebook group. You know the sort of groups; the ones where children are criticised for not playing outside any more, then are further criticised when they exist in public spaces on bikes and whatnot. This time, there was a legitimate gripe. Some children were throwing eggs…
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The Sun’s Wee Smoke Break
The sun nipped aff for a fag, an left the moon tae mind the shop.Pure cheek, but that’s management for ye. Folk spilled oot their doors like it was the Second Coming, staring up at the sky as if it had finally decided tae dae something useful. For a wee moment, the daylight went full…
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Number 10 of the… North?
Andy Burnham is our prime minister. Third time was, indeed, the charm for the ruthlessly ambitious career politician who has been treated as the king across the water for some time. That’s not a criticism. Ambition is important, but I don’t quite understand some of the people buying into his contrived persona of a happy-go-lucky…
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The Clickbait Breakdown: How The Media Converts Scottish Education into Rage-Bait
Scottish education reporting hit another low this week with The Scotsman’s latest piece of statistical rage-baiting: a page-padded countdown of Scotland’s “worst-performing” council areas for Higher passes. We are no strangers to local news reducing complex public institutions to raw, decontextualised metrics. But pieces like this step beyond lazy reporting; they actively mislead the public…
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The Endless Months
The morning arrived without a bell or an alarm,just the sun cutting through the curtains,and the sudden, heavy realisationthat tomorrow belonged to you, too. Weeks stretched out like a foreign continent,uncharted, unhurried,with no destination greater than the end of the laneor the cool, dark space beneath the old tree. Time lost its sharp edges.It became…
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NYCMidnight to Host Their Two Story Writing Challenge 2026
This looks like a fun and interesting challenge! Microfiction isn’t everyone’s thing, but it’s something I quite enjoy. This contest sees participants writing a pair of 300 word stories. I love that each and every entry will receive feedback. That’s valuable. I also gey the impression from the testimonials that the feedback given in previous…
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The Thread
A single thread has started to unwindAlong the cuff of an old woolen sleeve.A quiet looseness of a simple kind,That leaves no heavy heart behind to grieve. It pulls apart so slowly, stitch by stitch,A gentle letting go of what was tight.No longer holding to a complex pitch,Just softly coming undone in the light.
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The Keirful Goodbye
With Reeves wiping tears from her eyes,Sir Keir said his final goodbyes.He walked out the door,To a clap from the floor,Beneath the Westminster skies.