American Medicine
I hate being sick.
Lying on the couch next to a wastepaper basket full of tissues (I’m not loving these tissues, the term “2-ply” is being used very loosely here) I find myself once again fantasising about American Medicine. That’s right, this has happened before.
Where you live can change your life: A ramble
I always thought it was just one of those pithy sayings. Here to confirm it’s true.
I used to live in a place called Tonbridge, which sits in the River Medway valley, near the North Downs. Winter would come early, summer would come late, and it was generally quite bleak for eight months a year. Granted it was very beautiful, green and lush countryside, but on the bleak days that same thick lush beauty could become very oppressive.
Oh great, another place for my drafts to pile up!
Sneak peek at articles I’m sort of almost finished writing. Still don’t know what I’m doing yet.
Below is a screenshot of my current Substack drafts. Yes, I’ve only been here a month and I have a drafts folder. For longtime followers of my work, you know that I also have a drafts folder in my notepad app, my voice notes app, my edits app, my Google Drive, and of course that quaint “drafts folder” of yore – my physical notebook.
fave cool bugs i saw this summer, a mental health post
I’m obsessed with firebugs.
A flash of red, everywhere under my feet, as I walk down to the shore.
Just as thrilling to me as seeing a butterfly or a ladybird, maybe even more so because apparently these lil’ guys are recent immigrants to England. They’re not supposed to be here, but because it’s getting warmer, well…
It’s lonely on the other side of public opinion.
In 2025, I took a stand for human creativity. Apparently, I’m the bad guy?
Last year, I published a graphic novel about a kid whose favourite teachers get replaced by AI-powered robots… so he fights back.
Obviously. Right?
Watch out, Substackers! The late adopters are here!
It’s 2026 and I have joined Substack. Let’s get into it.
Why this, why now. OK. So, I’m here as part of some crazy, maverick plan I have to extricate myself from the endless churn and emptiness of social media.