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Welcome to the website of myself, will Cameron. Here you will find extracts from my work, find out more about myself and how I am getting on with my latest project. amongst other things, you will find links to my other favourite sites, polls, my blog, and even some books for sale. I hope you'll bookmark this page and come back at a later date. You will find it's updated regularly during the coming year. So for now, I' d just like to say, I hope you have a great 2009!

Featured Poem Jan 2009
All I Think is You

Alarm goes off, it's eight AM,
according to my DJ friend,
Monday morning, January ten,
All I think is you.

Water boils, kettle clicks,
soap applied, razor nicks,
another day of paper tricks,
all I think is you.

Subway ticket, subway train,
same old journey, same old same,
get to work, then get hame,
all I think is you.

Once in office, same old banter,
good weekend? Aye, ya dancer,
got so drunk, I pissed my pants sir,
all I think is you.

Nine AM, phones start ringing,
faxes whirl, computers dinging,
bosses snarl, slaves start singing,
all I think is you.

Back in flat, TV meal,
Quiche Lorraine, special deal,
two for one, said the spiel,
all I think is you.
Back in bed, book and tea,
every thought, you and me,
every day the same you see,
all I think is you.

Featured Short Story Jan 2009
Cats Can See Angels

So I'm living abroad, right? France. And I'm getting pretty homesick. I long to converse in my own uncomplicated language of English. See, in order to speak French properly, your tongue has to have spent two years at drama school. I've also had enough of the French cafe's which lost their "quaintness" about two weeks after I arrived. Now I longed to walk into a real pub where to ask for a glass of Bordeaux would get me immediately barred. Above all, perhaps I just wanted to escape French television... Read on

New! The Diving Bell, the Butterfly and the Number 61 Bus

As I stand at the bus-stop in Maryhill Road, an overweight man puffs his way by, completely drunk. Bent over, he walks along the level pavement as if he’s walking down a very steep hill. The woman standing next to me turns round and says ‘Is that no’ terrible? At this time in the morning. Ah’m tellin’ ye, Glasgow’s getting worse, so it is’ The fact that she herself is totally pissed seems completely lost on her. Her breath stinks, a cocktail of stale and fresh booze. She sways on her feet. As she talks, her head swivels unsteadily up and down and from side to side. I begin to worry that it will fall off completely. And if it does fall off, what should I do? Should I try to catch it? Or should I just let it bounce on the pavement, act as if nothing has happened? Is that rude? Would there be an awkward silence? Should I pick it up and hand it back to her, saying here, I think you dropped your...Before I have time to decide however, my bus appears at the top of the road...Read on

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