A Trace of Blood

A Trace of Blood by Tim Franks Vendetta doesn’t quite capture it. Definitely out of kilter. I prefer the word Retribution and the thesaurus agreed, because, when I looked it up it gave Justice as a synonym – and when I looked that up, it said Fairness, Righteousness and Integrity. So that was nice. Think we’ll try your woman’s touch, before I opt for the Taser. Mindful of political correctness, Sarge had used a pencil to scribble his note on the typewritten photocopy he’d had sent out to me. So, I had a read and maybe Tasering was an option. … Continue reading A Trace of Blood

Through My Own Fault – a version of this was read on Radio 4 & it appears in Mrs Rochester’s Attic – anthology

Pausing, only in his mind, to squeeze Sister Mary Bartholomew to his chest and whisper, ‘Who luvs ya baby?’ Father Michael Devine made his way to the confessional. Equipped with his stole, breviary, vacuum flask, and digestive biscuits he was … Continue reading Through My Own Fault – a version of this was read on Radio 4 & it appears in Mrs Rochester’s Attic – anthology

Hinterland – a memoir of childhood

I was born in 1954 and grew up in the bandit country on the north-west frontier… of Wolverhampton. The Luftwaffe hadn’t taken the lead in town planning, not like in Coventry and Birmingham, so the council had to be responsible for their own devastation. In front of the town hall they replaced a market square, surrounded by ornate Victorian facades and walkways, with a Civic Centre whose design seemed to have been out-sourced behind the Iron Curtain. A large hole sat in the heart of town for a few years and when the builders eventually filled it up with plate … Continue reading Hinterland – a memoir of childhood