When I was in Year 9 at school (which would put me between 13 to 14 years old), the Head of Year held an end of Year assembly. The Head of Year was (and still is. RIP Mr K), a local legend. A giant of a rugby player who’d suffered damage to his larynx so…
Where we’re going we don’t need teeth
The truth is that I’ve been too shagged out and, bottom line, ashamed to post anything.
Privilege, Panic and Progress
A’ight, I can’t sleep so it’s time for a super quick update
I want to write a book
“A standalone with series potential”.
The specifics are something I’ll explore in other posts. For now, it’s scary enough for me to say that.