I have to say I'm right into getting theatrical and extended cuts for historical and fantasy films these days. The first one I invested in was 'The Kingdom of Heaven', and it was just so much the better. Troy was the same, some of the battle effects they cut were amazing - made me wince - and then of course the three Lord of the Rings films - I can't even entertain watching the cutdown cinema versions anymore. Far too much was lost. And so the other day I stumbled on the exte

I'm a huge fan of the Sopranos. Loved everything about it. The characters, their quirks, the dark humour, broken personalities, drama, violence, tenderness and never ever knowing what was going to happen next. So I was really looking forward to The Many Saints of Newark, a film that promised a young Tony in the making. Now, I'd heard some troubling, unsupportive reviews but I remained openminded, excited. Last night I watched it. And I am conflicted. Really! Conflicted. For

Where has the year gone? April in 3 days. Already! And for those unaware, it means #INDIEAPRIL is upon us. Consider this your wake-up call. It all started in 2019 on Twitter, and although I was there at the beginning - well from the 2nd April in that year before COVID and lockdowns were even a thing - I don't recall much about how or who started it (*). What I can tell you though, is it's an opportunity for Indie Authors, via the #WRITINGCOMMUNITY on Twitter, to not only show

DreamSwarm celebrates the art and artists of a strange place. The brainchild and baby of Andy Mark Simpson, it is a place that enjoys the art and feeling of the supernatural, the otherworldly, yet encompasses those works that do not necessarily fit within the popular, more mainstream genre conventions of traditional Horror and Science-Fiction. This is the liminal world of Fae and folklore, myth, magical realism, and urban darkness - where time travel simply is the hum of an e

Okay. I admit it. I'm one of those people who often shirks watching a hit series or film simply because it's popular. I don't know why. Stupid really. I did exactly that with Peaky Blinders. More fool I. It's brilliant. To be fair, I had tried watching it once before but wasn't in the mood for a period piece. I watched less than an episode then. But six weeks ago I'd exhausted my watch list - having just finished watching Stranger Things (for exactly the same foolish reasons

I tried reading the Silmarillion when I was about fourteen, after having finished (and falling in love with) The Lord of the Rings. I suppose it must have been 1983/1984. A time of the Tories under the evil that was Maggie Thatcher. There was the Miners Strike, National Front, Anarchy, Greenham Common, CND, great music and genre inspired fashion - Punks, New Romantics, Skinheads, Mods and Rockers haunting record shops and roaming streets - me hanging out at bus stops with fri

Time I reinvigorated the blog. It's been awhile. Being a recluse - and indeed having become even more reclusive over the last couple of years - I guess I was struggling with content. Indeed, my mind has made it difficult to read too, and so book reviews dried up. Now, with the onset of 2022 and all we've all been through with Covid, lockdowns, and the like, I think it's time to start anew. Push this old soul back out into the world and hopefully put some smiles on faces. I fi

My brain is rubbish. After three breakdowns and a variety of mental illnesses diagnosed, it doesn't work at all well. My memory is shot and because I write (my escape, my healing) I stopped one of my favourite hobbies of reading. There have been a couple of pieces read, but nothing like how I used to read. Now I'd like to change that. Exercise my brain. Read! And keep it going. With this in mind I figured the best place to start were short stories. I should be able to rememb

There is a place in the forest. Beautiful. Once found, forever lost. I found it. Once. A Place in the Forest - Image by Paul Jameson A place the wisest never leave. Forever they live there, beyond touch of time. Eternally asleep, fore’er awake, they ponder woes of Man and know there the answers ‘fore ever a question is asked. ‘Tis magick of the Gods, of Immortals, gifted them as were once like you and me; man, woman, boy and girl, as Gods now to t’ Tribes of Man. Sought out.

Is a strange piece, even by my standards. A novella in length, I wrote it as a kind of precursor to NIGHTJAR, to put into context hinted at apocalyptic events that led to the strange feudal future that that novel is set in. I set the piece out as a kind of prayer book or hymnal, divided up by Chapter and Verse. Each chapter is inspired by one or more medieval images, and the dark events we seem to be witnessing in our own time - which include war, famine, sickness and a chang