Garden work clears the mind.

Garden work clears the mind.

Life is what you celebrate. All of it. Even its end.

I sell dreams, small comforts, sweet harmless temptations to bring down a multitude of saints crashing among the hazels and nougatines

The battle of good and evil reduced to a fat woman standing in front of a chocolate shop, saying, Will I? Won’t I? in pitiful indecision.

I don't think I've ever had a mentor. The closest thing is my friend Christopher Fowler, another writer. Chris kept me sane for a long time before I made it.

From a very young age my mother persuaded me that I could write for fun, but I had to have a proper job - very good advice.