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“You are the worst person I have ever encountered in my entire life,” she said.

I smiled. We had only met an hour ago; she had worked it out so quickly. 

Draught Excluder

I slip on the jacket first, mouldy polyester, fire engine red. It’s utterly hideous and I adore it with all of my heart, over which an embroidered bird emblem perches on a tattily stitched white ball.

Cameo

“You know Frank was considered a poet among painters,” said the woman. Statement, not question. She pointed at the sculpture with her walking stick like a professor at a blackboard.

My Foot

The boys jumped. I almost leapt too, but at the critical moment, I hesitated. I stood perched on the bridge, a skinny spectator stripped to my shorts, toes dangling over the edge of smooth stone.

Greg Rose

Selected work (4 publications)