SJG – an old / new author's blog.

The urge to write can overcome anything. I’ve been ill enough to put that to the test and it’s official: If I can hardly walk, talk or think, I still pull up a chair and try to write.    

“Come on, Marie.” I dragged her from the chair. Twelve stone, my arse. Always dieting, she was; always complaining and drinking her gin, now slumped in the garden with a wet mouth and puffy eyes. I resumed my grip beneath her arms, supporting her weight. “That’s marriage,” I supposed. Later, I breathed in the silence. …

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