Two poetry videos recently recorded at The Flying Pig, Cambridge.
Recently I heard the tragic news that Olympic gold-medal winning cyclist Victoria Pendleton came close to suicide last year. But something about the article put my back up. What follows is an ugly poem, written in anger and directed at the media, rather than Victoria. I do not share it lightly.
This is a story about kindness, art, and healing. It is about an email which brought me closer to tears than anything I can remember in recent memory. It is about a video game I wrote, the power of feedback, and the humanity of artists.
The bollocking door wouldn't open. That was it, Debs decided: she'd had enough bollocks for one day. Work, her iPhone, Rasha - oh God, Rasha - and now the bollocking door. This was the last bollock.
She gave in to gin, disappointment, wine, exhaustion and gin, collapsing gracelessly against the front door. She tried very hard to stop herself thinking the word “bollocks”, which of course didn't help. Stars twinkled innocently overhead.
Well, it's not every day one gets a new website. So I guess that's something I ought to be talking about.
First of all - welcome aboard! I hope you like it. I imagine a lot will change between now and forever but hey, this isn't a bad start, huh?