In with the Old…

The other night, after a couple of glasses of wine, a whim and a series of incorrect password attempts led me to look at my old blog, abondoned to stagnate in one of the lower levels of the sewerweb for some years. It said I was 27. That is no longer the case.

The first post was a short story called ‘The Monster Parade’, in which a neglected child, having been kept housebound with tales of the monsters outside, leaves his home for the first time one Halloween night. I’ve always been of the belief that my writing is purely fictional, escapism, drawing little on my own feelings, but I started to remember how I felt when I wrote that and the anxiety I was experiencing about my own children starting school that year. So, as I write this (seven years later), a little hysterical about my children now starting secondary school, I thought it would be interesting to revisit some of those stories and, hopefully, improve them. Do we live and learn or are we bound to travel through cycles of the uncanny where experience is filed away with amnesiac relief, only to be repeated?

Watch this space…

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