So the year that was January has come and gone then, and whilst the US moved one goosestep closer to what Orwell portended as a vision of the future, and pestilence came racing toward the finish line of these end times, here on planet Mercury, we were making a fresh start. Laying down roots. Buying the farm.
Folly perhaps, given a time when one should seriously be considering migrating to a cave on Easter island.
Still, this is me, knuckling down in the new studio space, which I’ve taken to nicknaming the “Silo”, since it’s comprised of a couple of old shipping containers, just a stones throw away from where I sleep.
The mornings are bone cold, and I daresay come the summer months, I shall feel like a boiled frog, so whilst there’s future plans to refurbish, in it’s raw state, it’s fitting domain for a series set in Hell.