It’s Christmas Eve and, as well as munching on mince pies and hoping to avoid hearing that damn Wham song ever again, I am thrilled to be the final destination of the Instagram Launch tour for the latest read from the ever brilliant Kristen Bailey. Ms. B kindly granted me an early digital review copy…
“Sex Ed” by Kristen Bailey
I am delighted to be one of the “stops” on day one of the Instagram Launch party for the latest read from Kristen Bailey. Ms. B kindly granted me a digital copy of “Sex Ed” in exchange for my honest review. And that is exactly what you will find a bit further down this page…
“Great Sexpectations” by Kristen Bailey
I am delighted to be among the first stops on day one of the Bookouture Books On Tour for the latest release by Kristen Bailey. Bookouture kindly granted me a digital copy of “Great Sexpectations”, via Netgalley, in exchange for my honest review. And that is exactly what you will find a bit further down…
Riding The 19 (Odes On The Roads #07)
Riding the 19 back from Headingley, After a day spent at the Test, Seeing Stokes and Root and Bairstow In the field against the Kiwi’s best. England wearing bright white flannels, Opponents sporting soft-creamed hues. Hot sun beating relentless from a Yorkshire sky Rich in shades of perfect blues. It’s been a glorious day for…
Culture All (Odes On The Roads #06)
Bradford’s broken blacktop bumps brutal beneath my wheels. But cracks and chasms in each road won’t dampen the good feels. For rising from the pavements, thrusting high into the sky, LED signs proudly shout the news to all who pass them by. That we have been chosen, a choice to help us thrive, ‘cos Yorkshire…
Snake The Cones (Odes On The Roads #05)
Stuck on Sticker Lane Once more, The blacktop dug up still. We wait our turn To snake Through cones, And cross that dirty, Streaked white line. Stuck on Sticker Lane We sit, Beside tidy shiny ranks Of polished chrome, Bright paint, Buffed wheels. The promise of the Carefree open road. Stuck on Sticker Lane, We…
The Fartown Kid (Odes On The Roads #04)
I reach the summit, crest the rise, Raise my hand to my brow And shield my eyes From the glare and the heat Of the burning noon day sun. I look down the valley, at the land below, To what bakes beneath That ol’ fire ball’s glow, As the sun beats fierce From the bluest…
“Colonel Whiskers” (Odes on the Roads #03)
Creeping. Crawling. Blacktop drawling. Get in lane and join the queue, Of a Monday morning, Nose-to-tail, Gridlocked M62. Signs flashing Overhead, warning “40’s All you oughta” Do, but your needle view Shows you’re doing Barely less than quarter. There’s a wagon Inching past you, It’s ladder-laden high. You wonder if each step Carried onboard could…
“The 62” (Odes on the Roads #02)
A poem to my wife – with a little help from Lainey Wilson and Dolly Parton. Inside lane, hitting sixty, On a moonlit 62. Been working nine-to-five, So tired, now I’m Coming home to you. You got me high on something, Feeling fine, My heart is in a whirl. You’re my neon diamond, Sunday best,…
“The Stuntman”. (Odes on the Roads #01)
Rain, cold, unrelenting, Makes the blacktop so slick. Drive safe and get there. Don’t not get there quick. Traffic, slow moving. It’s all red tail lights up front. In your rearview a youngster Driving like a Stunt Man from LA, Weaving in,…
“Am I Allergic To Men?” by Kristen Bailey
I am delighted to be among the first stops on day one of the Bookouture Books On Tour for the latest release by Kristen Bailey. Bookouture kindly granted me a digital copy of “Am I Allergic To Men?”, via Netgalley, in exchange for my honest review. And that is exactly what you will find a…
HNY.
’21 now lies behind us, A stale fart on December’s breeze, Now ’22, shiny and new, Brings hope; She’s such a tease. Will She prove to be a good one? Filled with love and hope? Or will She offer, instead, More fear and dread, Meaning some just cannot cope? When twelve months have been Then…
An Ode To The Question Of Why My New Top, Freshly Washed And Pegged On The Line All Day, Has Marks On It.
This is a little ditty I penned the other day after bringing in the washing. I think it would be great accompanied by the ukulele or banjo; imagine a modern-day George Formby vibe. Perhaps a dove crapped down as it winged by? Or could an owl have pissed from way up high? Might a crow…
“37 Words“
Underground In the dark There’s a tunnel With a light At the end Closing fast Foe or friend Beast or pet What’s the knowing Be brave Take a step To that beacon Your dreams Now the past
Gavin Dimmock. Writer. 