Graham J. Sharpe

How a ridiculously embarrassing encounter became my dying friend’s favourite story December 2003 The conservatory is a makeshift construction bravely resisting its third winter. Beyond the rain-spattered glass, the Devon hills roll and fall in green. Yes, I’ve borrowed (and butchered) some lyrics from Wuthering Heights, but when life’s impermanence overwhelms, it helps to conjure up Kate Bush. Eve holds a DVD. ‘I want to ask a favour. Will you take this home and watch it for me?’ The wicker...

What happens when a life is held together by appearances, and those appearances begin to slip… This essay was originally published on Substack on Nov 25, 2025 Republished here on Sep 14 2026 Hospital waiting rooms. Endless fun and frivolity. The news arrived during our third lap of the car park. “You don’t need to come,” my brother said. “It’s too late.” “We’re already here,” I said, wondering why hospitals don’t reserve spaces for relatives of the suddenly terminal. Since falling thirteen...

Ordinary Days in Unlikely Places This essay was originally published on Substack on Jan 24, 2026. Republished here on Sep 14, 2026 I filmed this in Tehran several years ago, when I was working as cabin crew. Those of us who grew up gay in the twentieth century learned to read the room. Hypervigilance was a thoroughly modern skill. Iran being a strict Muslim country, we were aware we might stand out. We anticipated a reaction, not in a cinematic this-could-go-catastrophically-wrong way, but...