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It’s September, officially the beginning of autumn, and perhaps unofficially the time of year ...
Wet leaves slide me into Stockbridgeand your gloved hand, which you withdrawwhen the ground ...
As a youngster growing up in the south side of Glasgow, we had plenty ...
Over the past few years, the Scottish poetry and spoken word scene has grown ...
Over the past few years, the Scottish poetry and spoken word scene has grown ...
PORT EDGAR, MAY (AFTER) canny see the banks anymore the firth’s havin a tantrum ...
12:00 ‘Alright, time’s up. Pens down!’ 12:01 The empty tick-tock of the clock is ...
The huge metal clasp that held my father’s pit bag jumble, a mesh string ...