This is the first weekend in about two months when I haven’t spent both days sewing, embroidering or crocheting. Continue reading
So there shall be writing news. Continue reading
I had a fantastic day out in Sheffield yesterday; I’m exhausted, mentally and physically today though. It would have been perfect but for the behaviour of some bad mannered little brats. If that wasn’t bad enough my aching legs carried me past a white-van-man this morning who though shouting insults at me was acceptable. This is a rant, by the way. Read on at your peril. Continue reading
I gave myself a kick up the arse today and started working on my novel again. Continue reading
I’ve been thinking about archery a lot recently, mainly because I’m writing a zombie apocalypse short story set in Lincolnshire.
by Neda Tehrani
Following their election victory, last week, newly appointed cabinet ministers were pressing policies, and future plans. Ultimately, the all-permeating sentiment in Conservative rhetoric, was the notion that British citizens have a duty to uphold British values. With the repetition of this phrase by Cameron and his team, comes the question of which values can be defined as inherently British. Much of the discussion in the media has gotten us no closer to understanding exactly what British Values are, and these elusive shape shifters are beginning to inherit a mythical quality.
I am sure many of us have a natural inclination to align with a set of values. This is often born out of a desire to find a sense of belonging. For many, it appears the most reasonable thing to do is to identify with the values that are a part of the society you in which…
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The other day I was cycling home when I stopped at a junction with traffic lights. A huge stretched limo – you know, those achingly tacky ones, a giant Hummer, the sort rolled out by chavs at proms – turned at the lights, and took the corner so badly that the driver was eyeball-to-eyeball with me, and gestured, impatiently, that I should move back.
This pissed me off on several levels. Firstly, I was right where I was supposed to be – in the bicycle box – and yet he showed no sign of apology that he was cutting into the opposite lane of traffic, but merely anger at me – a tiny bicycle – hindering his intended route. Secondly, I knew that corner was perfectly possible for large vehicles because I have stopped in precisely the same place on many an occasion and watched as double-decker buses swung around…
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