Author Archives: CageWriter

About CageWriter

Englishman Living in France with my wife and bilingual son. I'm a struggling writer as in I struggle to write even though I feel it's my calling. I get easily side tracked, this blog being a case in point!

Bamboozled

‘What’s he doing?’ said Andy, as much to himself as to his wife Cathy. ‘Why don’t you just come away from the window and let the poor man get on with it?’  Andy could tell that her comment was to … Continue reading

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Perfect Medium

‘I was happy to burn.’ Andrea frowned, ‘Really… that’s what she said?’ ‘That’s what she said.’  Andrea leaned back in her chair and pulled her cardigan tighter around her body extending the action until she was protectively hugging herself.  ‘I … Continue reading

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No man’s land

  I stood at the top of the stairs this morning, staring at the loft hatch.  All I had to do was to reach up, press it in the right place, the hatch would open and the stairs to the … Continue reading

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I drew the shrew

First impressions are important and never more so than when a boy meets a girl.  There’s more going on below the surface than most of us are aware of. Tom was aware, at least in theory of what he referred … Continue reading

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Packing for Patagonia

  Our parents drove off leaving a thick cloud of dust swirling in the hot air.  We watched as the dust began to settle and then, like a magic trick, our parents were gone.  The invisible cord between us had … Continue reading

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A Rat Catcher’s Tale

  My Grandfather, like countless grandfathers before him, told many stories.  What makes a good story well-told is perhaps the unseen legwork behind the delivery.  After all, grandfathers have had plenty of time to hone their skills.  They have told … Continue reading

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Within The World, Without. Or, The Runaways.

Within The World, Without. As children, we’d spend most of our time gazing out into imagined landscapes, but little time gazing in at the confines of the restrictive world around us, the boundaries of which were defined and limited by … Continue reading

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Watchfield

My brother and I were used to sharing a bedroom; there was the established territory, the personal and shared spaces and the rules of cohabitation which were drawn up and modified almost daily.   Sharing a bed, on the other … Continue reading

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Bicycle Race

  A bird flying overhead, should it take the time to consider the lay of the land below, would see a grid made up of streets and back alleys. Between each street and its respective alleyway are red brick houses … Continue reading

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Mud…for Jean.

Mud Within the faux oak panelled walls of the funeral director’s inner sanctum, Adele could hear the faint sound of weeping. This place, she thought, was a terminus for grief; journey’s end. For many it was where they got off, … Continue reading

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