Here there will be blog posts about writing, potatoes, and Potato Time™ writing method success stories – click on the title to view.
Going Home – a Poem
Going Home. A young man came up to me as I sat at the bus stop,asking for change to buy a ticket.He said he’d just got out of hospital.Because he overdosed,and died.For a bit.He said,and he needed to go home. I didn’t have any change on me,but I said I could buy his ticket on…
Lift off – a poem
We didn’t quite get enough lift off, on the runway. So we went up the motorway instead. M6 Northbound. The pilot said that our landing in Ayia Napa would be delayed, but the easterly headwinds wouldn’t be a problem now, at least. and we would get there, eventually. Via the A453. I was excited. Couldn’t…
Waiting – a poem
Waiting Waiting for the moment that the curtain drops, that the pin drops, and the clock stops. The moment that the timer rings, that the fat lady sings, as the trap springs. The moment that the credits roll, and the bell tolls, as you fall down the rabbit hole. Waiting for the turn of the…
Happy New Year
To all of you practicing the Potato Time™ method, particularly those trying to write more in 2026. May your potatoes be hot, and your wordcount high.
Tuesday 18th November – The second and third mince pies
A Sainsbury’s Taste the Difference mini mince pie. Having not tasted another from this particular supermarket, I cannot be sure if there is indeed any difference in quality to their usual festive fare. Accompanied by a caramel latte and a cup of tea, respectively, at my parent’s house. Gone in three bites, far too soon.…
Sunday 16th November – The first mince pie
1/27 My first mince pie of the season was consumed at a local Christmas light switch on. For the price of six British pounds, it came with a small serving of mulled ginger beer, which itself was a revelation. I do not think I have ever consumed something that was mulled, and yet also bubbly.…
Twenty-Seven Mince Pies
This is apparently the number enjoyed by the average British citizen over the festive period. 27. 20. And then 7 more. This number shocked me so much, that I have decided to track my own personal mince pie consumption to see how my statistics stack up against the average. I encourage everyone to do the…
Travel Journal July 2023 – Home
Check in takes slightly longer than at Terminal 5, with Paphos airport being less than a third of the size. At security there is a brief pause, mere moments after I remark that I am usually randomly selected, where I am randomly selected for drug swabbing. We shop in the duty free. My plastic carrier…
Travel Journal July 2023 – Culture
I wake up at 4am and 8am, before finally dragging myself to the living room for breakfast at around half 10. The AC in my room had left me shivering under the thin bedsheet, and a quick step out onto the patio restores my strangely adjusted body temperature to a normal roasting. Today is the…
Travel Journal July 2023 – Wedding
We start the next day with a swim, my friend now chasing the shade as much as I am. The heat cloaks you like a blanket, but under a parasol, or in the water, it is just about bearable in a swimsuit. At 12 we have a light lunch, fresh olives, feta, and the last…
Travel Journal July 2023 – Apartment
We take a taxi to the closest supermarket, and fill a trolley with cheese, crackers, olives, and double rations of hummus and tzatziki. There are also some of the biggest watermelons I have ever seen, but we decide against picking one up, as it would take the two of us to carry it. There is…
Travel Journal July 2023 – Plane
My taxi turns out to be a white Tesla. I have never ridden in a Tesla before, and need help operating the handle, which is flush to the door. There is a subtle touch screen, the size of my television at home, in the front of the car, and I am unsure if the driver…
Travel Journal July 2023 – Hotel
The Ibis Budget turns out to be just that. Budget. On arrival, the reception is signposted to be on the first floor, and a sign indicates that the lift is broken. I am happy about this until I reach halfway up the stairs, and the weight of my suitcase leaves ridges in my fingers, which…
Travel Journal July 2023 – Trains
I was hit on the head by a falling duffel bag on my first train of the day. It could actually be considered my second train, as my original was cancelled seemingly within minutes of me booking tickets 48 hours earlier. The booking has moved into the vague state of ‘refund processing’, which likely means…
A Quickie for my Husband – a poem
Why do you like me? I ask him, in earnest, And he shoots me a look, One of his sternest. “Are you being serious?” Well, I don’t know, I can’t comprehend, That you love me so. Much more than I love me, Most days at least, Sometimes I don’t feel, As much of a beast.…
Shells – a poem
The sea didn’t want my body.It spat me out,in good (mari)time,on the shoreline.Washed up.Before I had even started.Diving into territory uncharted,only to find that despite95% of the ocean being unknown territory,there still was not a place for me. By Fudge Cooper
Potato
Potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato potato…
C – Clint Eastwood by Gorillaz
It’s not your first album, or even first single. But this is the first album that makes you feel a little bit grown up. The cover had a Parental Advisory sticker. The music video references horror films you haven’t seen, and the lyrics don’t make any sense to you. But it feels special. New.…
B – Bom Bom by Sam and the Whomp
You’ve played it so many times in a row, that your housemate knocks on the door to check you are okay. You are, you are just organising things. Organising has always been easy for you, but it is even easier when the music is so loud you can’t hear yourself overthink. You can just…
A – Africa by Toto
It’s probably not even midnight, but the club is totally empty. It’s called Flares, and it sets itself apart with the promise to only play music from the 70s, 80s, and 90s as you boogie down on the light-up dancefloor. You are out to celebrate, sort of. You are finally leaving. Not that you…
A poem of inappropriate questions.
What will the food be like at the wake?What time does the funeral end?How did the deceased pass away?Could I have done more for my friend? By Fudge Cooper
Oz – a poem
Don’t look at me too closely.You’ll see I’m not a woman after all.I am just fragments,That when viewed from enough distance,Trick you into thinking I’m there.I am a memory of a staircase,Once climbed,An ocean,Once swam,An encounter on the tube,With a stranger who catches your eye.And who smiles as they hold the pieces of themselves together,Because…
Public houses – a poem
This building will always be a pub.Even when everything is stripped out,and nothing else remains,you will still smell the ghost,of a million pints.Be haunted by the echoes of late nights,hear the clicks and whistles, of the electric quiz machine.Even if new carpets are laid,and the walls painted a sensible magnolia.You can’t paper over forty thousand…
Musings on mash
If the humble baked potato represents a state of writing nirvana – where all of your literary efforts have been gently cooked to completion – what then does mash represent? Surely in comparison, creating mash is a violent, nonsensical act of destruction upon your completed work? And yet what do you have at the end…
Grey matter – a poem
You can turn off your brain on the train, and tune into the white noise of other people’s joys and despairs, where no one cares about your day, and the grey colour and pattern of the seats matches the sky. A monochrome commute home. Somebody is off to the pub and another is feeling the…
What happens after the potato?
This is a question that we at Potato Time™ have received a lot. You wrote for an hour. You consumed your potato. What next? Some mavericks might suggest putting another potato into the oven and repeating the process. This is not necessarily the wrong thing to do, however, you may find that the Potato Time™…
Hospital humdrum – a poem
Welcome to the hospital humdrum,Banged thumb,Ruptured bum,Soon-to-be mum. Take in the hospital bish bash,Ichy rash,Went out on the lash,Breathed in ash. Relax in the hospital tub-thump,Suspicious lump,Noggin bump,Stomach pump. Sit and stew in the hospital give and take,Slipped with a rake,Choked on cake,Bitten by a snake. Be thankful for the hospital heartbeat,Athletes’ feet,Spoiled meat,Couldn’t stand…
An in depth look at Step 4 of the Potato Time™ writing method.
Step 4: Ding. What does the ding stand for? In practical terms, the ding signals not only the end of the current creative session, but also the end of the potato’s cooking time. Deviate too much from your one hour timer and you will not have a hot potato, you will have a sad potato.…
Small steps – a poem
When you are takingsmall stepsdon’t forgetto look backat where you started,when you feeldownhearted,at your footprintsin the groundwhere you foundthings hard,but kept goingregardless,even when youmake slow progressit’s all a part ofthe processof moving forward,toward the futureand a time whenyou can beginto make big jumps,and leapsand boundswhen you have foundthe strengthto stride.But you start,with small steps. By…
An in depth look at Step 3 of the Potato Time™ writing method.
Step 3: Write, or otherwise make art. What does it mean, when we say ‘make art’? Is art truly made? Or is it within us all along? What is art? The answers to all of these questions can be found by employing the Potato Time™ philosophies. Whatever you have accomplished at the end of your…
Thin skinned – a poem
I have made a canvas of my skin,To carry works of art,In acceptance, I don’t have to be thin. Outside now reflects within,An open mind and open heart,I have made a canvas of my skin. Disregarding eating as a sin,Allows the mental clouds to part,In acceptance, I don’t have to be thin. Head up and…
An in depth look at Step 2 of the Potato Time™ writing method.
We all know it by heart. Step 2. Set timer for 1 hour. But why 1 hour? Why not half an hour? Or the famous Pomodoro* method of 25 minutes? The answer is simple. At the end of 30 or 25 minutes you might have some words written. They might even be good words. Best…
It was a dark and stormy night – a poem
Opening lines don’t matter in poetry. They only serve as a welcome mat and after that are forgotten. As the poem gets underway the part that they played fades in your memory. The way that they drew you in, and made you begin reading, or listening, if these words are said aloud, cutting through the…
Potato alternatives?
We have received a question in our mailbox today – are there any substitutions for a potato when applying the Potato Time™ writing philosophy? The short answer would be no. Potatoes are a perfect and irreproachable food, that not only sustains, but also mimics the artist’s soul. Solid, yet delicate. Savoury, yet sweet. Starchy. However,…
Bad Gravity – a poem
I broke my nailfalling down the stairs,and that is what hurt the most,as I sat in A&Ewaiting to see,if my toe was broken.The feeling of the raw edgeof keratin alreadyworn thin throughyears of bitingnow smashed into jagged shards.I had gone down hardhitting nearly every stairand then the door.Laying on the floor,and feeling sick whenI stood…
Which potato works best for Potato Time™ ?
Any humble spud can be your gateway to glory. Even that one at the back of your cupboard that is starting to get those funny little sprouts, and looks a little like an expensive rare breed small dog. Cut off the sprouts. Put it in the oven. Potato Time™ . Debate rages on at the various…
Shower Orange – a poem
. If you have not had a shower orange – my friend, you have not lived. Follow my advice, it will change your life. This is how you begin. . Find yourself a shop or market stall where one might procure an orange. Buy the biggest one you can, be not afraid of its curves,…
