Monthly Archives: April 2017

The 390 to the North

The day began so well that I should have known the man upstairs had his clown suit on. I caught the 390 bus to Tufnell Park, where my friends would be waiting. Saturday afternoon in the pub and Chelsea in

Tagged with: , ,
Posted in Saturday Hooptedoodle

Coldwater Cottage – 6: The Father

Previous instalments: 1 2 3 4 5 Ian stared back at the door, shut as it so often had been while a fire burned inside and rain fell outside. “You’re not coming in until you’ve chopped that wood!” The unshaven

Tagged with: , , , ,
Posted in Coldwater Cottage, Uncategorized

Nose for a Wrong ‘Un

Seeing is believing. I’ll not let you or anyone else tell me otherwise. I knew he was a wrong ‘un the moment he came into the shop, which is why I had my beady eye on him in the first

Tagged with: , ,
Posted in Saturday Hooptedoodle

Non-fiction Review: The Invention of Nature by Andrea Wulf

Long before I knew who he was, Alexander von Humboldt had exercised a major influence over me. I first encountered his name in an undergraduate oceanography lecture, when I learned about the Humboldt current that flows northward along the Pacific

Tagged with: , , , , , , ,
Posted in Book review: non-fiction, Wednesday Pontification

Coldwater Cottage – 5: The Wrasse

Previous instalments: 1 2 3 4 He’d seen plenty of ballan wrasses before. Every one of them had thrashed their tails to put as much distance as they could between themselves and him, which was a prudent reaction from a

Tagged with: , , , ,
Posted in Coldwater Cottage, Uncategorized

Not in Service

When a tube train has the words NOT IN SERVICE on the front, you’re not supposed to get on it. That’s why I got on it. Come on, it stopped and opened its doors right in front of me. They

Tagged with: , , ,
Posted in Saturday Hooptedoodle

Coldwater Cottage – 4: The Descent

Previous instalments: 1 2 3 The ripples solidified into bare boulders as he dropped closer to them. In a year they’d be covered in weed. Darting fish would be hunting weed-eating snails and dodging larger fish, but now the debris

Tagged with: , , , ,
Posted in Coldwater Cottage, Uncategorized

Return of the Voice

Should I say something? Anything in particular you’d like to hear? You want to hear about my radical student days, back in the nineties? Yeah, I know, I was two decades late. Sitting around gabbing about how the fascist regime

Tagged with: , ,
Posted in Saturday Hooptedoodle

Coldwater Cottage – 3: The Sister

Previous instalments: 1 2 He glanced at his dive computer. Six meters. The boat had already disappeared. The vermilion sleeve of his drysuit faded to grey as the sea drained the red from the light reaching him. He could be

Tagged with: , , , ,
Posted in Coldwater Cottage, Uncategorized

Inhale, Exhale

You inhale and you exhale. A breath in and a breath out. Listen to the rhythm of your life. You first inhaled in the same moment that you first had air to breathe. No one told you how to do

Tagged with: ,
Posted in Saturday Hooptedoodle
Follow Cockburn's Eclectics on WordPress.com

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 455 other followers

Goodreads