Fiction
. . . Cathy continued in her soft Highland burr. “I’m sorry to say Beth’s disappeared. She’s had some sort of episode. It looks as though she destroyed her textiles. Set alight nearly all her university work. She was reported missing earlier today.”
Juliet remembers the strange buzzing in her ears; the unprompted show reel of her niece. A little girl in the forest, giggling at Auntie Jet’s insistence on wearing beards of moss and speaking only in their moss-voices, shining almond eyes and gap-toothed grin the only features visible through the greenery. A willowy, teenage figure with bobbed caramel hair and a long summer skirt, dancing on the shoreline with her grandfather. The student visiting London, sitting on a high white bar stool, talking excitedly about fabric designs, sipping a cocktail through a straw, cheekbones outlined and eyebrows jauntily raised.
Cathy was still talking. “The police rang me, unfortunately only after they’d already been to inform Erica.”
Oh, my God, Erica. Juliet’s mind seized on the thought of her twin sister trying to take this all in from a team of uniformed officers.
“They stayed with her until I got there,” Cathy said. “She’s in the clinic now. She came voluntarily in the end, and she’s named you next of kin. We’ve had to sedate her.”
A flash of a little girl, sucking her thumb, sitting on her mother’s knee in a moment of stillness and calm.
“Juliet?”
“Yes. I’m…” She pinched the frown she could feel between her eyebrows. She wanted to ask more about Erica but did a quick mental triage. Erica was safe for now. “How long has Beth been gone? Where was she last seen?”
Extract, Sea of Bones, Legend Press 2019
Travel Writing
I'd never thought of myself as a risk-taker. I didn't chase adrenaline-highs or seek out danger. But as I stood looking at the tiny figures jumping into the void and dangling from a rope attached to a railway bridge 128 metres above the thundering Zambezi River, my heart began to pound in my chest. They must be insane, I thought. The next thing forming inside me wasn't a thought, or even a feeling; it was just something I knew: I am going to do that too.
Extract, The Day the Void Came for Me, Travel Tomorrow
Journalism
. . . A half-full private jet is twelve times dirtier than economy air travel. Looking at this, it’s easy to become disheartened or cynical: if billionaires won’t pay the price for their environmental delinquency, why should ‘us ordinary folk’ be expected to give up our package holidays to Greece? But before you use your high horse to ride away from your environmental responsibilities, remember: it’s estimated that less than five percent of the world’s population has ever flown on a plane, so check your privilege, as the saying goes.
The shocking truth is that questionable taxation is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to our governments’ attitude to the aviation industry. A 2017 review of Subsidies in Aviation authored by Prof. Stefan Gössling, Frank Fichert, and Peter Forsyth, finds that ‘significant subsidies are extended to manufacturers, infrastructure providers and airlines.’ Why? And what form do these subsidies take?
Extract, Fly Me to the Moon: Are We Subsidising a Climate Apocalypse? Brussels Express