Call Me Sentimental, But There's

For Some Time Now She Has Had The Conviction That Life Is About To Change If Only Because It Must. . . .

The True Writer, The Born Writer, Will Scribble Words On Scraps Of Litter, The Back Of A Bus Tickets, On The Wall Of A Cell.

What Must That Be Like? To Be Admired Before You’ve Even Said A Word, To Be Desired Two Or Three Hundred Times A Day By People Who Have Absolutely No Idea What You’re Like?

Who Do You Think You Are, Jane Eyre? Grow Up. Be Sensible. Don't Get Carried Away.

This Might Sound Really Foolish, But When I Came To Edinburgh In 1988 I Had Spent Nearly All My Life Living South Of Bristol, And I Was Just Amazed That A City Like Edinburgh Was Actually In The British Isles.