Reader, if you have a printer then print this article out, step away from the screen and read it in one sitting. I say this because I’ve been thinking about reading, and reading about thinking. They are almost the same thing. | Northern Gravy
Floods spread out like a bad feeling, getting everywhere you could imagine. They did so by stealth, bringing fear, as though a murderer was on the loose, not just an extra ten square miles of water. Rivers crossed smaller rivers and absconded with them. Water crossed roads in broad daylight, right in front of cars, like lollypop ladies leading groups of school children. A trickle at first. By evening, impassable roads.| Northern Gravy
Clive’s first thought is about the blazer. He wasn’t done looking at it yet. Or rather, at what it contained. It reminded him of Cynthia, how she used to fill things out before the children came along and things got all pillowy. So long ago. | Northern Gravy
Today, I had to sit on the think chair. Because I ate Maggie’s lunch. | Northern Gravy
The morning after the exotic crash, Zeff wasn’t sure what could be done. He’d spent hours making calls, telling everyone who needed to know. Most of them were asleep, some of them couldn’t even understand. | Northern Gravy
I’ve just been redrafting my fourth book, Sleeping Dogs (cue contractually obliged plug… out later this year… all good bookshops, etc.) and I realised something that I have been vaguely aware of for a while now: my characters spend a lot of time in the pub. Not just pubs; there are numerous cafes, restaurants, a bubble tea takeaway, and, in the new one, a none-too-salubrious club from the 90s called Honkers. | Northern Gravy
