The writing lives here.
The chaos, too.
Music, filed incorrectly
Ask me what kind of music I like and I’ll disappoint you. I have no genre, no flag to plant, no defensible answer. What I have instead is a thirty-year collection of songs that found me when I wasn’t looking
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Shall we take a photo?
You agreed. This is your first mistake. What follows is a negotiation, five attempts, one selfie stick nobody asked for, and a version of your mouth you don’t remember authorising.
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Dad demoted
The four-year-old thought I was a legend. Genuinely. Unreservedly. Would have testified under oath. The nearly-fourteen-year-old has reviewed that assessment and would like to suggest some changes.
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How to adult: Manual sold separately
I thought adulthood came with a manual: mortgages made sense, lentils behaved and you stopped Googling “how long do eggs last”. Then you find yourself on a kitchen floor at 11:32pm watching a tutorial about a fridge that sounds like…
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Cling film wars
Making a sandwich shouldn’t require strategy. And yet. This collection lives in the gap between expectation and reality—where appliances hold grudges, keys vanish on a Thursday, and the mundane turns theatrical. It’s everyday warfare, told over a proper cup of…
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Just one more squeeze
A humble tube of toothpaste becomes a daily referendum on character. This piece unpicks how small habits turn into battle lines—rolling versus squeezing, dignity versus chaos—and why we care far more than we should.
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