Being Exiled in St Helens

I’ve been writing  in this little piece of literary heaven for five years now but the last two have been whilst in exile.  My adopted town of Stoke-on-Trent didn’t provide me with a job and a salary so I set forth into the foreign fields of Lancashire and the surrounding lands, to work my time first in the Wigan health culture and then in the water meadows of Warrington.

I’m still here, with a night time base in the glass land of St Helens, sharing a local religious leader’s old home with some fellow (but rather more rowdy) travellers.

Gentle readers I really should write more, as my evenings just seem to drip away like water through cracks in the pavement.  And so a pledge: I promise to write at least once a week, to build up once more my connection with you and to work ever more solidly at my return to the land of pottery.



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