Writing
2020 was the year I moved back to the South West after a brief spell in Norfolk - although to my mind it felt less like moving and and more like running back for forgiveness, as a person might into the arms of a lover whose finer points they had
Writing
* I often fantasise about having no possessions. Well, maybe not none, but the bare minimum: the amount you could easily shove into a medium-size van. The stuff you really need to get by. Plus a few nice lamps, the especially brilliant books and records. But then when you start to
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Writing
If you read this website regularly you probably know about my Substack page by now, where I am also posting all of my new writing, and which I am increasingly reliant on, especially having deleted my Twitter account. A few of you still subscribe to www.tom-cox.com via Paypal
Writing
THE THREESOME Jenny and Torsten lived in what anyone who knew them whose opinion they attached any value to agreed was a fabulous little house, backing onto a cliff: not what was generally perceived to be one of the most desirable cliffs in the area, but a real find, nevertheless.
Writing
* Jim is a cat our male cat Charles brought over to our house in early December last year. It’s mid-April now and Jim’s still here so I guess it means he’s officially ours - especially since the lady whose barn he used to live in seems fine