I Didn't Write Anything Until I Was

I Can Walk About London And See A Society That Seems An Absolutely Revolutionary Change From The 1950s, That Seems Completely And Utterly Different, And Then I Can Pick Up On Something Where You Suddenly See That It's Not.

I'm Writing Another Novel And I Know What I'm Going To Do After, Which May Be Something More Like This Again, Maybe Some Strange Mixture Of Fiction And Non-fiction.

We Make Choices But Are Constantly Foiled By Happenstance.

I Am Addicted To Arrivals, To Those Innocent Dawn Moments From Which History Accelerates.

Grief-stricken. Stricken Is Right; It Is As Though You Had Been Felled. Knocked To The Ground; Pitched Out Of Life And Into Something Else.