Sticky post

The Life Chronicles: Field Days Pt.5

‘How much longer?’ Benji asks. He’s playing on his Switch in the back-seat; the tinny sound effects an accompaniment to Daisy’s strained breathing. ‘Not long, the sat-nav says ten minutes.’ I flit my eyes between the screen and the road, gently turning the steering wheel. ‘A whole ten?’ He groans, shifting about on the leather. ‘Why don’t you put your game away, look out the … Continue reading The Life Chronicles: Field Days Pt.5

Sticky post

The Life Chronicles: Field Days Pt.4

When you are twelve, you lose interest in the difference between a stag beetle and a dung beetle. It’s not cool to like insects or play in fields anymore. I had started ‘big school’ as Mum promised. I hung out with a group of five boys; we would play football in the playing field after lessons, staining the grey trousers that were ironed for me, … Continue reading The Life Chronicles: Field Days Pt.4

Sticky post

The Life Chronicles: Field Days Pt.3

Summer 2005. I was ten. It was two years ago that I had seen the baby fox and their mother. I would sometimes wonder if they were still out there, flashing through the woods. I stomped through the landscape, looking for fun, growing bored of what the countryside of Devon could offer.I was growing restless in the fields and hedgerows, which manifested in a lethargy. … Continue reading The Life Chronicles: Field Days Pt.3

The Life Chronicles: Field Days Part.2

In Devon, I used to embark on several projects in the summer time. Mum and I didn’t have our own garden until years later, so whilst we lived in that terrace house, the slice of terracotta-brick was all we owned. The hills beyond the house became ours too, but we didn’t own them in the same way that we owned the brickwork. The summer of … Continue reading The Life Chronicles: Field Days Part.2

Sticky post

Cooking and Conversation

They say the first sign of insanity is talking to yourself, but for me it is a sign I’m cooking. I admit, there is a certain flair of insanity to my culinary methods. I defy measuring, exchange ingredients routinely, and follow recipes how I follow most advice – listening but rarely enacting. Cooking is a language for me. I’ve confessed and drank wine with Nigella, I’ve laughed and ranted with Ramsay, and I’ve questioned Oliver on many occasions. Cooking is a warm hello in the shape of tender meat and clouds of mash, it is an apology sweetened with strawberries, it is a declaration of love infused with chillies, and it is a get well soon in the shape of a bowl of garden vegetable soup. Continue reading Cooking and Conversation

Sticky post

The Life Chronicles: Field Days Part. 1

I was the type of child that adults liked. I was polite, timid, and entertained myself. ‘What a lovely young man,’ old women would coo over me, and ‘gosh, isn’t he well behaved,’ fathers would nod, holding back their own snarling boys. At the school gates, at the end of the day, parents would arrive, ready to embrace their children, who were either exhausted or … Continue reading The Life Chronicles: Field Days Part. 1