Tag Archives: short stories

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The reason I knew there was a lounge bar round the side was that I’d met my parents there a few months earlier to celebrate my father’s sixtieth. I prevaricated over a scarf, but in the end I bought him … Continue reading

Posted in Sculpture for the Sad Kid | Tagged , | 8 Comments

‘Plenty of Room on Parnassus’

This was what one of my early creative writing tutors once said to a group of us scruffy art students. Later, I had to look up what Parnassus was. Anyway, today I begin teaching a group of third year undergrad … Continue reading

Posted in It Cracks Like Breaking Skin | Tagged , | 7 Comments