11th February 2017

There’s something in the air… something’s happening. We can all feel it; the men who are uncertain as to what being a man means anymore, as if they think they’ve dropped something, and have begun patting at their pockets and hoping they’d left it there, because if its not there then it could be anywhere. Meanwhile the fairer sex are gathered in the women-for-anger marches that you’ve probably seen rocking around your village.

Back in the day it was just gypsies that kept us checking the horizon.

So what’s going on?

It’s nothing more irregular than the early beats of spring. Everyone gets excited around this time of year, and if we’re going to point fingers and blame things then I urge you to keep some for the crocus. I just saw a group of them on a walk through the woods and came over all flush with excitement, suddenly understanding why the whole world was losing its mind. It’s going to get worse before it gets better. Daffodils are next, so prepare yourself for seeing the car in front of you slam on its brakes so the driver can go picking them from the central reservation of a roundabout.

The hedgehogs will be waking up soon too, providing that you didn’t burn that pile of leaves that they made their home back in the autumn. Even then you shouldn’t panic too much. Hedgehogs frequently wake up for a snack in the winter and have a wander around, sometimes only for a local do-gooder to think they’re in distress, and they get piled into a dog cage for the rest of the season. The poor bastards.

Why do we even call them Hedgehogs when you only see them on your lawn? I know a tall man who looks after hedgehogs. He watches them at night with a camera. I asked him how many Tic Tacs it was safe to feed a hedgehog. He wouldn’t answer, but he said that he did know how many. I’ll ask him again and get back to you about it.

In the meantime enjoy the spring because it’s going to go off everywhere anyway. Then come the morris dancers and the madness really finds the beat of its feet. At least the trees will be green by then.

Back indoors and work continues on my forthcoming novel, The Brine in Me, as well as a hopefully fruitful podcast called Cave Mind. I’m busy coercing some evocative but otherwise pretty shy people into being recorded and answering my questions. Some of them don’t really understand what an internet is so I’ve had to boil it down to telling them that it’s basically a long answer phone message, and they do those a lot anyway.

As I say we’ll see how it goes. My fingers are crossed because I believe you would enjoy them, and they might even hold a candle for you.

It’s ok to laugh at people, people.

Please leave your message after the beep…

J W Bowe



My producer and master, Anna, has asked me to declare that although it’s fine to laugh at people, cruelty is bang out of order and should be saved for when you get home.


I found this hole. Don’t know who left it. Litterbugs, probably.


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