+ 44 (0) 77 88 515387mail@johnmorrish.com
Skip to navigation Skip to content

John Morrish

Writer and editor

Navigation
  • Home
  • About me
  • WELCOME TO SPRING
  • ALEXANDER DORONIN
  • ADAM HERON
  • IVAN HOVORUN
  • Home
  • A Birthday Party for Ivor Gurney
  • About me
  • ADAM HERON
  • ALEXANDER DORONIN
  • Fall Back, Spring Forward
  • Is queuing on its way out?
  • IVAN HOVORUN
  • JuJu Chinese Dance
  • Love and Mercia
  • MAKE A BOOK
  • The Grey Area
  • Tim Rumsey
  • WELCOME TO SPRING

Author: John Morrish

Have you been drinking, Sir?

Is there any sound more upsetting than the cry of a small baby? I’m not referring to the full-scale shrieking of an angry or tired or hungry infant, rather the pathetic mewling of a baby that is alone and neglected. 

Continue reading

California Saga

When we look back, does pain leave more of a mark, or does joy? It is easy to say pain, but in time that slips away.

Continue reading

On Reflection

It was their happy ending. Stephen and Sarah signed into the hotel in Venice as Mr & Mrs Russell, and it was the first time they had ever done that, and they smiled. They marvelled at the splendour of the place they had chosen from the brochure in the travel agent’s. They brought their bags…

Continue reading

High Windows

Within months of moving to Zurich, it became clear to Nick and Samantha that they had made a mistake. Nick had taken a senior management position in a Swiss bank, and it was supposed to have been the adventure of a lifetime; but it proved a struggle. 

Continue reading

The Club Would Like to Apologise

Ladies and gentlemen, I stand before you today, or sit, to explain a difficult decision the club has had to make. We have had to dismiss one of our biggest stars, a veritable superstar in fact, up there with Messi, Ronaldo and Madonna. 

Continue reading

No Raymond Chandler

I sat at my desk, flicking through the Times and wondering how I was going to make the rent. Taking in washing suggested itself. Then Doris buzzed in a couple of potential clients. The tall one was wringing his cap in his hands like a washcloth after a shower. The other, shiny faced and fat, fixed me with…

Continue reading

A Change of Career

The writing had been on the wall. Eleanor Stephens knew that people were not going into the High Street, they were not booking holidays, and when they did it was on the internet, not by going into an old-fashioned travel agent. 

Continue reading

A Car Ride

Do you want to know what happened at the beginning? Well, I woke up yesterday and Mummy and Daddy were arguing in the kitchen. I don’t know what about. They are always arguing. 

Continue reading

25 Things To Do During Self-Isolation

Alphabetise your tins. Weep over your sock-drawer. Marie Kondo your address book. Finish your novel, or start it.

Continue reading

Haruspex

Jessica was a fortune-teller. She did not have a gaudy striped tent in a travelling circus. She did not wear a turban or favour large hooped earrings. She did not read palms and no-one crossed her palms with silver. 

Continue reading

Posts pagination

  • ← Previous
  • 1
  • 2
  • 3
  • Next →

Recent articles

  • Women’s Football before there was money in it
  • Consequences: the launch
  • A Little Dose of CIFF
  • Through a Glass, Darkly
  • Yesterday

Pages

  • A Birthday Party for Ivor Gurney
  • About me
  • ADAM HERON
  • ALEXANDER DORONIN
  • Fall Back, Spring Forward
  • Is queuing on its way out?
  • IVAN HOVORUN
  • JuJu Chinese Dance
  • Love and Mercia
  • MAKE A BOOK
  • The Grey Area
  • Tim Rumsey
  • WELCOME TO SPRING

Categories

  • Autobiography
  • Fiction
  • Non fiction
  • Uncategorised
© John Morrish 2025
Eighteen tags designed by pootlepress.