My name is John Featherstone. I evidently don't belong on Tumblr. Fantastically insular and fabulously geeky even by my remarkably odd and far-between friends' standards, my interests are about as interesting as one of Will Teece's lifeblogs, encapsulating everything from soul, blues, jazz and underground hip hop to the type of roleplaying than doesn't involve acting out bizarre fantasies with the roles of band members and Harry Potter characters.
I've written on and off since I was eleven with a back catalogue of purple prose and awful ideas including everything from short stories based around my roleplaying characters to a half-finished western 'novel' that was not-so-tragically wiped out alongside a website's change of server hosts.
Musically a fan of everything from Al Green and Billie Holliday to Massive Attack and Thelonius Monk.
Sometimes annoyingly overbearing and talkative but invariably at least mildly positive, so happy to reply to asks.
Shadows had fallen in the valley below, but there was still a light on the faces of the mountains far above. The air was warm. The sound of running and falling water was loud, and the evening was filled with a faint scent of trees and flowers, as if summer still lingered in Elrond’s gardens.
Genuinely dream of being an antique dealer in America. If the History channel’s true-to-life representation of the business is to be believed it’d be a rollercoaster of emotion.
So glorious is it in Greater Wolverley right now I’m actually revising outside. I think this is the first time I’ve graced my garden since last summer.