Dog’s Dinner

” Right.It’s lunchtime.” I told Oscar as he leaned into my lap for a quick head scratch and yet he looked so disgusted at me, his eyes filled with such sorrowful mistrust, I questioned whether he’d understood my meaning. “YOU’RE not my lunch, silly billy” I tried to reassure him, ” I’m just massaging your head for fun, not tenderising the meat.”

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About thehairyhoudini

I love books and feel stabs of envy when writers and journalists display their work in print.I want to stop writing in private, and start gaining the confidence to write better, more often and for an audience.Having always kept diaries as a child, and written countless whimsical short stories in a myriad of gaudy hello kitty journals,I thought I would be a writer some day, when I stopped being a fireman (frightened of fire), secretary (does temping count?), shopkeeper (I'd still like to be) and accessory designer (which I am). I then turned 13,and that's when, with the onset of acne and a mono brow, I then discovered FASHION! Clothes, magazines and ANYTHING to do with their mythical creators. I have often daydreamed about writing for a living...witty little columns for Sunday papers, pooling ideas and knitting fragments with my pen until I can form a book.I hope this blog will give me the discipline of doing REGULAR writing, and nudge me closer to this dream. Catch the updates by signing up to the email alerts!

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