Postcards from Kronk - the second collection of daily stories. (2025)

'The retirement of Concorde has been undervalued, here in this one perfect example is the acknowledgement that we need to slow down not speed up, getting there is what we are all doing, not being there, the rush towards technological advancement is stripping us of our humanity. If you feel like this come and join us, bring a single bag and no electronic devices.' The leaflet had seemed the answer to his problem, at the bottom an address he’d had to google, a tiny plot of land 40 km north of Rennes. With nothing to lose and a mardy boss to leave in the lurch a plan hatched and over the next seven weeks he dismantled his life, closing connections and laying traps for those that he believed deserved it, in the new world he would be a good person, but for now, there were scores to settle. Finally in France after collecting his bedding from Jean and reading 'Follow the community on twitter and facebook for regular updates' on the back of the...

Train guards and the ones that sell sandwiches have reacted nervously to the news that, following a series of unsuccessful trials in East Anglia, Hampstead and Manchester the minister for public platitudes has confirmed anyone with an electronic device or annoying tone of voice will be required to be seated in a specific carriage from Monday 20th June. Based on the sink class principal of failing schools this new ideology of our erratic leadership shows no sign of slowing down with government officials already touting separate staircases for people who broadcast how early they got up in the morning and compulsory river dips for men who attempt to grow a beard without the necessary testosterone to pull it off. You voted for them and it’s your fault.

My marriage was shaky even before I stole the leopard and now I live on a barge. This is the opening line of my autobiography, I whisper the words into my pillow as I drift off for an afternoon snooze. Once the royalties start rolling in I will rescue her once more, this time legally, I'll make a start on the second line when I wake up.

"How long has he been gone?" "An hour." She raises her eyes. "Some hours are longer than others." The flat is pristine, sterilised even, like the ones in science fiction films from the seventies but we are not astronauts we are aesthetic terrorists and we are waiting  for John to return from his first cleaning job. Days later a single man is found asleep in a little chef in Fleetwood, 7 miles south of Blackpool, his clothes stink of petrol and he has a recent tattoo showing a mermaid riding a Spacehooper on his neck. The mermaid looks suitably embarrassed.

Polly puts a record on and slinks onto the balcony. Sipping her drink she wonders what time it is and then wonders if it matters, she watches the flow of people as they go past at the end of the road, those without jobs or school to go to, these aren't my people she thinks, this is just a holiday. This isn't even a balcony, just the top of the bay below. The newspaper reports tremors are once more shaking the buildings in New Zealand, but that they are made of stern stuff and will rebuild the interviewees state. Back at home, 11, 717 miles away the sun is beginning to sink between the gaps in the shops, it'll be too cold to sit out for much longer. What do you do when a town is dying and no one notices ?

There is panic in the air, many of us have decided to be with our families, those we love. I'm at the train station, it's early evening but still humid. The 5.15 to Rochdale begins to leave, final goodbyes are taking place. I see the bag drop from her hand as the train leaves, as it drops and all kinds of  unction, potion, snake oil and balm begin to fall free. The child in front notices and makes to run to catch them before they crash to the ground, the departing mother moves the muscles around her mouth to issue a warning. The bag is still there, time is slowing, the troubles are starting. Young men in Belgium without gravity, tied by their ankles to the ground, a town in Australia where everyone suddenly started speaking backwards, (although obviously it took a while for that news to escape). These are the troubles of our time, without reason or cause. This town is being paused, if I don't move quickly enough I wil

Twenty seven anonymous men arrested for causing damage to areas of lawns in suburban areas of Madrid: the message ran across the TV screen whilst Gael tried to watch the football. His grandmother snorted, started to say something but began to cough and forgot what she doing. Fourteen women arrested for causing slow punctures to bicycles in Palermo centre. Pepe and Miriam burst through the door in a ball of arms and teeth, fighting for the remote: the football was in the air, heading towards Manu, their top striker, he was head and shoulders above the defender before Bruce Willis suddenly took his place, disappearing into a lift. Pepe had been quicker than his kid sister. As the lift doors closed the good news continued to slide by. Thirty two people have been arrested for making holes in clothing and hiding keys. Chelo, his mother sat forwards and patted the dogs head, " Ah, they are making Spain a safer place, see, Gael, see Pepe, Miriam, Mother, do you see? Things will...