Hi there.

I'm Martin.

I enjoy writing, people tell me I have a talent with words, and I'm starting to believe them despite my frustratingly low self-confidence, so I figured I need a place to write and put down my thoughts and opinions. The content of this blog won't be themed - I concluded  many years ago that I am doomed to be a jack of all trades, master of none - but I'll try my best to make it interesting.

I just finished reading Paul Kelly's memoir, How to Make Gravy, and the Australian songwriter has subsequently been featuring more prominently in my evening listening, and while thinking of a title for this blog, his song 'Stolen Apples Taste the Sweetest' just popped into my fatigued head. I've never been great at coming up with names or titles, but I don't think this one is too bad. In fact, it's the bomb.

Stolen apples taste the sweetest
See them hanging in the pale moonlight
You won't feel those cuts and bruises
As you reach out for your prize in the night
Pluck them down and take that very first bite

"Don't tell anyone our secrets"
Said the farmer to his darling wife
Oh no, don't tell me
"There are some here in the districts
Not so happy with their lot in this mean, old life
Oh, sweetheart, won't you pass me the paring knife?"

Stolen apples plucked down in their prime
Stolen apples hanging heavy on my mind
Heavy on, heavy on my mind, oh, my mind
Oh, my mind

Eve called Adam in the garden
"Hey Adam, come over here and look at these, won't you try some?"
"Oh, no," said Adam, "Ain't that forbidden"
"Come on now, baby," said Eve, "What could be wrong
What could be wrong with just one little one?"
So Adam bit and cried out, "That's the bomb, that's the bomb"

Stolen apples taste the sweetest
Stolen apples taste the sweetest
Stolen apples taste the sweetest
Stolen apples taste the sweetest

Stolen apples taste the sweetest
Stolen apples taste the sweetest
Stolen apples taste the sweetest