Tom Cox's Blog, page 5

Looking Back On The Albums I Made During The 1970s And Their Cover Shoots

THE HIDDEN LIFE OF TREES (1970)



People have talked a lot about what an amazingly fully-formed and confident debut 'The Hidden Life Of Trees' was but what is often forgotten is that I'd been around the block more than a few times by this point. I'd been learning my trade playing in folk clubs since 1965 and come out of the psychedelic era slightly bruised, when the sessions for Magic Rug's

Full Jackdaw: May, psychedelic spring and the language of birds

I’d just shoved a holistic scientist into a flower bed and, with night coming down fast, was wondering about the best way to get her out of the flower bed, without speaking to her. If I spoke to the holistic scientist, who was one of the leaders of the mindful nighttime walking course I was on, I’d be breaking one of the rules of our current exercise: a trust game, in which the dozen people

Recent Countryside Diary Entries

5th April, 2016

One socially awkward problem with being of a somewhat dozy nature, having poor eyesight and living near a friendly small town is that people you know often see you long before you see them. That is, if you see them at all. I’m always worried about being perceived to be ignoring acquaintances when really I’m just being slightly blind and off in my own dream world, so today

Walking Notes: The Black Dog Route 6.4.2016

The floor of the kitchen in the house I rent is hard-worn and wooden, with dark splotches and a slightly uneven texture to it. I’m very fond of it, but when it comes to feeding my four cats it can be both a blessing and a curse. On the plus side, it means that if I’m feeling in a flamboyant mood I can slide a bowl of food along it and pretend whichever one of the cats I happen to be feeding

The Real Atlantis: A Walk To Britain's Lost City

It’s cold and wet when I arrive at Dunwich: miscellaneous fragments of tree and bin and fence are flying through the air and everyone who is or has been outside - which is essentially me, a bold crow and about three other people - looks like they’ve just had their eyeballs professionally washed and dried. I didn’t plan to come here in the middle of the most destructive storm of the year,

In Praise Of Dawn: On Badgers, Night Owls And Not Being One

The tawny owls in the trees around my house have been in fine voice recently. Usually, there’s a fairly even split between the sexes - the high-pitched female tawnies with their “to-wits” (which is actually more like “to-WEEEEEET” in reality) and the more bassy and insouciant male tawnies with their answering “to-woos” - but one night last week I got the strong sense that the field to one

A Walk To Bog End And Back With My Dad

“What’s this?” I asked my dad. He’d just walked into the living room with several canvases under his arm. On top of the pile was a watercolour painting featuring Winnie The Pooh and Piglet walking through a dark underpass hand-in-hand while three somewhat grotesque, mean-faced men in trenchcoats loitered on the the other side.


“IT’S WINNIE THE POOH AND PIGLET ABOUT TO BE ASSASSINATED,” my

The Old Nan And The Sea

I was walking along the clifftops a couple of miles west of Boscastle in Cornwall last month when a dog rocketed out of a farmer’s field directly into my path, with a look of rare industry and resolve. I don’t know exactly what make of dog it was, or even if it was a specific make at all; I think it was one of those dogs you get sometimes that are just a dog. Dogs have been a touch

The Old Woman And The Sea

I was walking along the clifftops a couple of miles west of Boscastle in Cornwall last month when a dog rocketed out of a farmer’s field directly into my path, with a look of rare industry and resolve. I don’t know exactly what make of dog it was, or even if it was a specific make at all; I think it was one of those dogs you get sometimes that are just a dog. Dogs have been a touch

Some Things I Have Learned, In Two Decades Of Writing For A Living

Often it's only upon seeing photographic evidence that you realise just how long you've been working on your novel.



This year marks my twentieth anniversary of being a published writer, so I thought it was as good a time as any to jot down some thoughts about what I've learned in those years. About a month from now it will be precisely two decades since I sent my self-produced A4 fanzine