My writing

Red

Red Homespun stockings itch. With the least feeling of warmth they rub my legs like a bear’s skin. Although I have not met or touched a real bear, I know they exist: white in the arctic where the whales swim, and brown in the forests where the trees prick the sky. I have homespun stockings. […]

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Farewell Living Orkney

I picked up the last issue of Living Orkney on Thursday. Inside its cover were many familiar things. Some items do become familiar to the point of becoming invisible, like wellington boots marooned by the back door all summer until October when they are picked up again, like the smart woollen coat worn when it’s […]

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