Sunday, October 23, 2011

Dew Point

At the top of the chalk, just where the river Laver pauses in reflection before plunging two hundred and seventy feet before heading through the town, the forest thins out and gives way to a short bluff overlooking the Laver Marsh. Dew Point, as it was named for the flat piece of granite that gathers moisture long before the surrounding limestone, has been the sacred place for a particular group of people, albeit mostly single men, for decades. It overlooks the Penny Lane camping site, a haven for nudist campers and caravanners since it first opened in the late nineteen-fifties.

Tuesday, October 04, 2011

A Saucerful of Secrets

Madame le Pardo twirled the inverted cup three times over the saucer and took it away, careful not to spill the dregs of Tetley left in the Royal Doulton Sundance dish. She put the cup to one side.

“I thought you read the ones left in the cup?” Mrs Armitage patted her lips with a napkin, craning her neck to see inside the porcelain.

That's just for amateurs.” Madame le Pardo blew over the top of the tea to help it evaporate. She fixed her client in a stare. “It's what the cup won't tell you that's important.”

“Oh? I didn't know that.” She shifted her view to the saucer. “Can't you just pour the dregs away? I'd have taken that last sip if I'd known.”

“No.” Beryl put the saucer on the table. “You has to let it dry naturally. See the wind moving across the tea leaves. That sort of thing. The spirits will tell us when its ready.”

“I see it! It's like a pyramid! Am I going to Egypt for me' 'oliday then? Or am I the reincarnation of Queen Nefertiti?”

“No.” Beryl sighed. “It means our Bethany used teabags again.”

Tuesday, September 06, 2011

Read These Lips 5

Includes my short lesbian story 'The Rainbow Scarf'
Read These Lips
Free download.

Friday, August 19, 2011

Another Bloody Love Story

ABLS box

Ten copies arrived.

If you want a signed copy, they're £9.99 plus £2.75 postage

More postage outside of UK, of course.

Otherwise, the ISBN is 1615724567

Wednesday, June 08, 2011

Summer Display

Harold opened the box he'd pulled out of storage in the cellar. Well, he called it the cellar but it was actually one of the rooms behind gallery three of the Basement Gallery, downstairs. He sublet the gallery to Felicia and she re-let the storage rooms to him, earning them both a substantial rebate on the business rates.

“Summer already?” Jasfoup sliced through the packing tape with a claw. “What delights have you got in store for the window display this year? Same as usual?”

“It's seasonal.” Harold pulled out a surfboard and set it to one side. Despite the box declaring it had once contained forty-eight packets of ready-salted crisps and was two feet by eighteen inches square, the surfboard was full-sized. “People like my summer display.”

“I suppose.” Jasfoup pulled out a pair of blue-striped deckchairs and a rainbow-patterned windbreak. “It just seems odd for a bookshop.”

“Summer best-sellers. Everyone likes to read a book on the beach.” He began pulling out bags of sand and emptying them into the display.

“Yes, but they generally go for Jilly Cooper or James Patterson.” Jasfoup pulled out a box of books. “Not a nineteen sixty-eight copy of 'Five on a Killing Spree in Dorset'.”

Tuesday, June 07, 2011

The Speakeasy

The Speakeasy - Extraordinary Night of Monologues


one of my monologues: 'Black Lace Curtains'

Three nights only!

Monday, June 27, 2011 to Wednesday 29th at 8:00pm
Upstairs at The Nell of old Drury, London, United Kingdom

Monday, May 16, 2011

The Garden of Tranquility at St. Marple's, Laverstone.

St. Marple's Church provides an area of welcome shade from the heat of the day. The owner, who bought the derelict building some years ago, was thoughtful enough to provide an area of artificial garden amongst the faux tombstones and graves of famous writers. If you were unaware of the artistic nature on the building and grounds, you might be tempted to believe that Dante had been reunited with his beloved Beatrice, or Orpheus had left his homeland and brought the remains of Eurydice to a backwater of Wiltshire.

In this tiny garden of contemplation, just yards away from the bustling market square, a wall of ivy-covered stone surrounds carefully tended gardens of saxifrage and aquilegia, cornflowers and aubretia. At the backs of the borders delphiniums and foxgloves stretch toward the sun, shaded by cherry and silver birch and the gnarled, ancient yew that guards the entrance.

A fountain bubbles at the base of the war memorial, a natural spring piped through the wall of the church though a small plaque warns people not to drink from it. The memorial was constructed in the thirties, the first and last echo of Dada combined with Epstein's futurism to produce a statue made from the barrels of guns and shells recovered from the Somme. The locals shunned it for years, preferring the simple obelisk outside the church of St Pity's a mile to the east. Someone has wound ribbons around the gun barrel fingers, though they hang limply in the heat.

The bees hum around the freshly planted summer bedding. Ox-eye daisies and osteospermum compete for the few that have found the garden. I switch my phone off to give them a little peace.

Saturday, May 14, 2011

DS Anna Wilde now in Print as well as eBook

Anna Wilde dragged a brush through her hair. It seemed to have a life of its own ever since she'd freed it from the severe spiky chop she'd sported since her days at Hendon. She was in two minds to tether it with an elastic scrunchie – it was at the just-above-the-collar stage where it looked messy whichever way she wore it. She left it loose and glanced at her watch: seven-twelve.


She shrugged on her jacket, stuffed her wallet and phone in the pockets of her jeans and grabbed the handle of her suitcase.

“'Bye, Jo.”

There was no reply from her housemate and erstwhile lover. Anna wasn't surprised. Jo had been passive-aggressive toward her ever since she got her new posting.

She opened the front door, took a last look at the house and left. She's be lucky to make the seven-forty to Laverstone.

What happens to DS Anna Wilde?

12-05-2011 Hellebore and Rue

Friday, March 04, 2011

Hellebore & Rue

Hellebore & Rue

Contains the first appearance of Laverstone's DS Anna Wilde, as well as a great many other fabulous lesbian heroines.

Thursday, March 03, 2011

Tuesday, February 01, 2011

The New Priest

29-07-09 Crocodile Dew

Father Edward Matthews was hardly the bishop's idea of a champion of idolatry, which was why, on a rainy Friday in September, an ancient Rover metro pulled up outside the Rectory in Laverstone. It was a testament to the Catholic church that they tolerated the Protestant names – not that they were likely to get them changed. Road names were engraved in steel (quite literally in this case) and house names cost money to alter. Money that would be put to better use supporting the work of the diocese; in this case, the bishop's wine cellar.

Father Matthews didn't give a toss anyway.

Monday, January 31, 2011

Venus Magazine launched

Venus magazine cover

The inaugural issue of the VENUS MAGAZINE is now available on the web site, or as a download from!

This first issue features poetry from 'Tess Camillo' author, Morgan Hunt, fresh new fiction from Rachel Green and Beverley Karalus, reviews of Red Rover from Caroline Filler and Gender Outlaws from Jean Roberta, who also shares her first column, Stranger Than Fiction.