It’s strange what sitting in a cave so long will do to you.
Obviously there are ointments for some of the effects – but not for others. I am regressing… hurtling back to my youth to where this whole sorry situation must have begun.
Like many a teenager I wrote poems. But not romantic angsty ones. No. Poems like Horror Fridge. And illustrations. You can see where it was leading even when I was 15…
No wonder Mills & Boon didn’t want me…
Horror Fridge
Deep behind our fridge-freezer,
Like behind most fridges
Where you shudder to delve your fingers deep,
For fear of spiders and gungey ridges,
Where the vibrating demon lurks and laughs
And gurgles while you’re in bed
And everyone knows,
And everyone shows that they knows
But nothing is said.
Who knows what lies behind,
What secrets there do dwell?
What groans in the dark,
What sundry shark
Swims through this dusty hell?
What waits a silent vigil
In the crannies and the nooks
Nobody knows and nobody will
Because nobody ever looks…
(from The Fridgeside Book of No Hope)
19/02/2009 at 10:25 pm Permalink
Mills & Boon didn’t want you? Pah!
I’ve just been turned down for a job writing for ‘In The Night Garden’ (no, really!)
20/02/2009 at 11:56 am Permalink
Why oh why do the powers to be fail to recognise the genius that was SO apparent in our work at this time – it’s a travesty – and put one of mine on you self-serving bundle of vanity!
20/02/2009 at 11:57 am Permalink
ps – I particularly like the way you have depicted the linoleum in your illustration!