I. In Edinburgh the bagpipes are for tourists. I’m sorry but it’s true. I don’t mean to be a snob. But in Stirling they’re more genuine. They roll over the floodplains and you never see who’s playing them. You can… Continue Reading
A week after they drained the reservoir, the dead returned to the glen. The first reports came from contractors hired to dismantle the old dam. They spoke to the local paper about corpses in the glen, walking the newly exposed… Continue Reading
We met at art college. Dorothy was the one with talent, everyone saw that. And, I imagine, no-one could see what she saw in me. I got thrown off the course at the end of the second year, but we… Continue Reading
It was a night for a warm fire and a good drink of whiskey. Instead there was a rapping at my door. By the sound of it, someone was banging away with a proper walking stick. I pumped up a… Continue Reading