Bathtime chat

“Do you think Hannibal uses TP or a bidet?” “Excuse me?” “He’s a serial killer, I know, ‘Don’t eat the rude’ and all that. But he’s, what, an aesthete, right?” “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Hannibal Lecter. I just can’t imagine Hannibal Lecter using toilet paper. I …

Autumn’s here

It’s that time of year again. I was moving wood from a delivery into the shed earlier, trug by painful trug (the weekend’s sea kayaking has broken me), and a long V of geese flew in overhead. I sometimes wonder why they talk to each other incessantly as they fly. …

Synaesthesia

I have synaesthesia – not one of the easily explainable ones, like numbers have colours, but more of a whole-body topological sort of affair. It’s hard to explain, so I rarely bother trying. There are experiences, though, that are so overwhelming I occasionally attempt to share them. This evening, coming …