Geoff Cox
@geoffcox.bsky.social
Working class author (memoir, NNF and folk-horror), better kept outdoors (whatever the weather) and well watered. Ageing runner with a passion for words, wild places and archeology.
"Traceless" (2020) Pub. Little Peak
"Traceless" (2020) Pub. Little Peak
Ageing is an attunement to time.
This subtle pause, the daytrippers have returned to their cars, the birds yet to begin their conversations with the night, a downy silence, the warmth of summer trapped beneath the trees, footsteps muted in the scents of pine.
Breathe… do not count the breaths.
This subtle pause, the daytrippers have returned to their cars, the birds yet to begin their conversations with the night, a downy silence, the warmth of summer trapped beneath the trees, footsteps muted in the scents of pine.
Breathe… do not count the breaths.
August 16, 2025 at 3:31 PM
Ageing is an attunement to time.
This subtle pause, the daytrippers have returned to their cars, the birds yet to begin their conversations with the night, a downy silence, the warmth of summer trapped beneath the trees, footsteps muted in the scents of pine.
Breathe… do not count the breaths.
This subtle pause, the daytrippers have returned to their cars, the birds yet to begin their conversations with the night, a downy silence, the warmth of summer trapped beneath the trees, footsteps muted in the scents of pine.
Breathe… do not count the breaths.
In a monumental failure of foresight I’ve allowed my 70th birthday to fall in the middle of the peak-mileage week of a training cycle. So, no photos of me disgracing myself in a bar I’m afraid, but here’s another from my sunshine and dark clouds run across Nine Standards Rigg on Monday.
March 12, 2025 at 2:13 PM
In a monumental failure of foresight I’ve allowed my 70th birthday to fall in the middle of the peak-mileage week of a training cycle. So, no photos of me disgracing myself in a bar I’m afraid, but here’s another from my sunshine and dark clouds run across Nine Standards Rigg on Monday.
Dropping down towards Ravenseat after a traverse of Nine Standards Rigg yesterday. #northerntraverse
Classic Yorkshire day - ‘Aye, you can have your silver linings, but you’re going to have to put up with some dark clouds’.
Classic Yorkshire day - ‘Aye, you can have your silver linings, but you’re going to have to put up with some dark clouds’.
March 11, 2025 at 4:52 PM
Dropping down towards Ravenseat after a traverse of Nine Standards Rigg yesterday. #northerntraverse
Classic Yorkshire day - ‘Aye, you can have your silver linings, but you’re going to have to put up with some dark clouds’.
Classic Yorkshire day - ‘Aye, you can have your silver linings, but you’re going to have to put up with some dark clouds’.
Delighted with my #WorldBookDay delivery from @ortacpress.bsky.social. Looking forward to reading these as @richardfosterbooks.bsky.social comes highly recommended by Jeff Young @wildtwin.bsky.social. I was told that Ortac books are beautifully produced and that’s absolutely right.
March 6, 2025 at 4:59 PM
Delighted with my #WorldBookDay delivery from @ortacpress.bsky.social. Looking forward to reading these as @richardfosterbooks.bsky.social comes highly recommended by Jeff Young @wildtwin.bsky.social. I was told that Ortac books are beautifully produced and that’s absolutely right.
The mystic overarch that is the dragon tree
just short of a mile from home.
A deep breath, a faster pace,
soon the warmth of a teacup.
just short of a mile from home.
A deep breath, a faster pace,
soon the warmth of a teacup.
March 5, 2025 at 11:47 AM
The mystic overarch that is the dragon tree
just short of a mile from home.
A deep breath, a faster pace,
soon the warmth of a teacup.
just short of a mile from home.
A deep breath, a faster pace,
soon the warmth of a teacup.
Ancient lanes, deep incised,
scant shelter from a questing wind.
Showers stalk the hills ahead.
scant shelter from a questing wind.
Showers stalk the hills ahead.
February 23, 2025 at 3:23 PM
Ancient lanes, deep incised,
scant shelter from a questing wind.
Showers stalk the hills ahead.
scant shelter from a questing wind.
Showers stalk the hills ahead.
February 21, 2025 at 2:39 PM
Adding a soft fold to the end of a Liverpool afternoon. I’m drinking alone; “I’ve spent too many hours in pubs with idiots” as @wildtwin.bsky.social told me earlier.
February 11, 2025 at 5:06 PM
Adding a soft fold to the end of a Liverpool afternoon. I’m drinking alone; “I’ve spent too many hours in pubs with idiots” as @wildtwin.bsky.social told me earlier.
Into the querying trenches once more dear friends; this time with a much stronger proposition.
(Unfortunately I failed to find the on-line form that grants people approaching 70 the right to avoid this step 😂😂)
(Unfortunately I failed to find the on-line form that grants people approaching 70 the right to avoid this step 😂😂)
January 20, 2025 at 4:58 PM
Into the querying trenches once more dear friends; this time with a much stronger proposition.
(Unfortunately I failed to find the on-line form that grants people approaching 70 the right to avoid this step 😂😂)
(Unfortunately I failed to find the on-line form that grants people approaching 70 the right to avoid this step 😂😂)
@lakesstiles.bsky.social Here’s an example of a ‘bedouin cairn’ I was describing, this one from Wadi Rum in Jordan. The scenario here is you’re following a path along a ledge about 100m above the wadi floor. The tall thin cairn indicates that your path continues on a ledge about 5m above you..
January 20, 2025 at 12:50 PM
@lakesstiles.bsky.social Here’s an example of a ‘bedouin cairn’ I was describing, this one from Wadi Rum in Jordan. The scenario here is you’re following a path along a ledge about 100m above the wadi floor. The tall thin cairn indicates that your path continues on a ledge about 5m above you..
Early morning mist clears from the Black and White Canal. My attention was drawn to the swan framed by the bridge, it wasn't until I later looked at the photo that I saw the black pony. #blackandwhite #photography
January 18, 2025 at 1:32 PM
Early morning mist clears from the Black and White Canal. My attention was drawn to the swan framed by the bridge, it wasn't until I later looked at the photo that I saw the black pony. #blackandwhite #photography
Limestone puddings, left as they were when the quarrymen left; street furniture on a sunwashed pavement. Few come this way, they only offer direction to inquisitive runners and lonely hawthorns.
January 16, 2025 at 5:20 PM
Limestone puddings, left as they were when the quarrymen left; street furniture on a sunwashed pavement. Few come this way, they only offer direction to inquisitive runners and lonely hawthorns.
The bright lace of winter has melted, leaving us with drifting ribbons of sleet and rain.
Barbondale Bridge.
Barbondale Bridge.
January 14, 2025 at 1:20 PM
The bright lace of winter has melted, leaving us with drifting ribbons of sleet and rain.
Barbondale Bridge.
Barbondale Bridge.
The Occupation Road, alone
moving through a wavering pool of light.
Threading the seam where
fear rubs against darkness.
The trees fret along the margins of the lane
blurring what is familiar
with the thought that maybe,
maybe here,
some movements do not belong to the wind.
moving through a wavering pool of light.
Threading the seam where
fear rubs against darkness.
The trees fret along the margins of the lane
blurring what is familiar
with the thought that maybe,
maybe here,
some movements do not belong to the wind.
January 8, 2025 at 12:01 PM
The Occupation Road, alone
moving through a wavering pool of light.
Threading the seam where
fear rubs against darkness.
The trees fret along the margins of the lane
blurring what is familiar
with the thought that maybe,
maybe here,
some movements do not belong to the wind.
moving through a wavering pool of light.
Threading the seam where
fear rubs against darkness.
The trees fret along the margins of the lane
blurring what is familiar
with the thought that maybe,
maybe here,
some movements do not belong to the wind.
I whinged all weekend about the absence of the snow we were forecast to have. Happy to say that I didn't have far to go to find where it DID fall.
The sweep down from The Calf into Barbondale.
The sweep down from The Calf into Barbondale.
January 6, 2025 at 5:25 PM
I whinged all weekend about the absence of the snow we were forecast to have. Happy to say that I didn't have far to go to find where it DID fall.
The sweep down from The Calf into Barbondale.
The sweep down from The Calf into Barbondale.
Last book of the year and it’s a real slice of nostalgia. Not among my memories, I wasn’t introduced to the delights of Barra until much later. Looking forward to another writing project with John Hall in 2025, we’re going to be doing a deep dive into record shop culture.
December 31, 2024 at 3:24 PM
Last book of the year and it’s a real slice of nostalgia. Not among my memories, I wasn’t introduced to the delights of Barra until much later. Looking forward to another writing project with John Hall in 2025, we’re going to be doing a deep dive into record shop culture.
Down from the hills, a howling wind and the hiss of rain.
A haven of warmth, the smell of damp dogs and brewing beer.
Once we talked of races to be run, now our conversation relates
pride in our grandchildren, bemoans the trials of ageing bodies
This is where we learn we are not alone.
A haven of warmth, the smell of damp dogs and brewing beer.
Once we talked of races to be run, now our conversation relates
pride in our grandchildren, bemoans the trials of ageing bodies
This is where we learn we are not alone.
December 30, 2024 at 9:35 AM
Down from the hills, a howling wind and the hiss of rain.
A haven of warmth, the smell of damp dogs and brewing beer.
Once we talked of races to be run, now our conversation relates
pride in our grandchildren, bemoans the trials of ageing bodies
This is where we learn we are not alone.
A haven of warmth, the smell of damp dogs and brewing beer.
Once we talked of races to be run, now our conversation relates
pride in our grandchildren, bemoans the trials of ageing bodies
This is where we learn we are not alone.
Reading and recovery today; couldn’t have chosen better, ‘Hollow’ is Brian Catling at his very best (saying a lot). Dancing the lend-lines between horror and hilarity, every page another weaving of archaism and edge, the whole book steeped in Catling’s deep knowledge of the visual arts. Wonderful.
December 14, 2024 at 2:06 PM
Reading and recovery today; couldn’t have chosen better, ‘Hollow’ is Brian Catling at his very best (saying a lot). Dancing the lend-lines between horror and hilarity, every page another weaving of archaism and edge, the whole book steeped in Catling’s deep knowledge of the visual arts. Wonderful.
I fear these things too.
Leaving my van in the dark of the quarry. Three stones and a fingerpost; beyond them the brittle cage of a forest, alive with the sounds of recent rain. I check my headlamp, nervous fingers. I run, alive to the sounds of the track, a late dogwalker, or something restless?
Leaving my van in the dark of the quarry. Three stones and a fingerpost; beyond them the brittle cage of a forest, alive with the sounds of recent rain. I check my headlamp, nervous fingers. I run, alive to the sounds of the track, a late dogwalker, or something restless?
December 4, 2024 at 2:02 PM
I fear these things too.
Leaving my van in the dark of the quarry. Three stones and a fingerpost; beyond them the brittle cage of a forest, alive with the sounds of recent rain. I check my headlamp, nervous fingers. I run, alive to the sounds of the track, a late dogwalker, or something restless?
Leaving my van in the dark of the quarry. Three stones and a fingerpost; beyond them the brittle cage of a forest, alive with the sounds of recent rain. I check my headlamp, nervous fingers. I run, alive to the sounds of the track, a late dogwalker, or something restless?
There’s a beauty and a terror in a scene like this.
The beauty is the track itself, stay between the walls; up, up until there is no more height to be gained.
The terror is the ascent into the clouds, what lies up there? What if there’s nothing; we become nothing, we become the clouds themselves?
The beauty is the track itself, stay between the walls; up, up until there is no more height to be gained.
The terror is the ascent into the clouds, what lies up there? What if there’s nothing; we become nothing, we become the clouds themselves?
December 2, 2024 at 5:10 PM
There’s a beauty and a terror in a scene like this.
The beauty is the track itself, stay between the walls; up, up until there is no more height to be gained.
The terror is the ascent into the clouds, what lies up there? What if there’s nothing; we become nothing, we become the clouds themselves?
The beauty is the track itself, stay between the walls; up, up until there is no more height to be gained.
The terror is the ascent into the clouds, what lies up there? What if there’s nothing; we become nothing, we become the clouds themselves?
Every time I read this book (I won’t admit how many times I’ve read it), I go one layer deeper into the onion of my writing. Last night it was M. John Harrison’s thoughts about writing landscape, and the effect that books have on the landscapes written about, that had me writing late into the night.
December 2, 2024 at 1:48 PM
Every time I read this book (I won’t admit how many times I’ve read it), I go one layer deeper into the onion of my writing. Last night it was M. John Harrison’s thoughts about writing landscape, and the effect that books have on the landscapes written about, that had me writing late into the night.
Take stones, simple stones, pile them into elegant tapering pillars, silhouetted against the sky; and in the cold dawn light they take on sentience. Unsleeping watchers, they urge you on your way, unspoken words from silent tongues, witnesses to guilt and innocence alike.
November 30, 2024 at 3:53 PM
Take stones, simple stones, pile them into elegant tapering pillars, silhouetted against the sky; and in the cold dawn light they take on sentience. Unsleeping watchers, they urge you on your way, unspoken words from silent tongues, witnesses to guilt and innocence alike.
My local, just how a local should be: warm, welcoming, great beer - and usually more customers than this! 😀 The Royal Barn in Kirkby Lonsdale dressed for winter.
November 26, 2024 at 6:54 PM
My local, just how a local should be: warm, welcoming, great beer - and usually more customers than this! 😀 The Royal Barn in Kirkby Lonsdale dressed for winter.
I've seen these posted on social media on numerous occasions; I always pressed 'like' and I always thought about how that person must be feeling.
Well here's mine - and the feeling is so positive, and so positively mixed up. 87,000 words, 4 years, and a whole heap of emotional investment.
Well here's mine - and the feeling is so positive, and so positively mixed up. 87,000 words, 4 years, and a whole heap of emotional investment.
November 25, 2024 at 1:38 PM
I've seen these posted on social media on numerous occasions; I always pressed 'like' and I always thought about how that person must be feeling.
Well here's mine - and the feeling is so positive, and so positively mixed up. 87,000 words, 4 years, and a whole heap of emotional investment.
Well here's mine - and the feeling is so positive, and so positively mixed up. 87,000 words, 4 years, and a whole heap of emotional investment.