I was out having a drink with Poppy and Will last night when I had a ‘ticcing fit’. They both helped me and it was over quite quickly. But just before it ended, my tics started asking them how unpredictable I am.…

For three years, from when I moved into the castle, I’ve been happily chatting to, advising and teasing the lamp-post I can see from my bedroom window. A year and a day ago I wrote a blog post reflecting on how reassuring I found it that I was still doing this.…

Last night Chopin and I performed a shortened version of our show Backstage In Biscuit Land as part of an event organised by The London Brain Project. They work with artists, neuroscientists, and the general public on collaborative projects that explore the brain through the arts.…

Two years ago I wrote about “Fuck a sheep!” the phrase I started ticcing every time I heard a particular but very common phone message-alert tone.

Years later and I’m still shouting it every time I hear the tone, but now I’m definitely not alone.…

A year ago I wrote a blog post about the changing seasons and how my tics, addressing the large swaying, sea-like trees outside my bedroom window had helped me notice how the seasons were changing in a way I might otherwise have missed.…

Autumn’s really here now. The trees are the colour of flames; the air feels cold when I wake up in the morning; helicopter seeds spin to the ground in flurries; soup’s back on the menu at the café near work. And I can no longer wear light colours.…

Today is National Poetry Day, a day that aims to celebrate poetry and engage people with it. I enjoyed studying poetry at school but I didn’t think about it a great deal after that, at least not until my vocal tics began to get more noticeable and complex.…

Will was supporting me on Saturday night for our final performance of Backstage in Biscuit Land at the Battersea Arts Centre (BAC). Afterwards he stayed at the castle to provide my overnight care and yesterday morning he told me about a dream he’d had.…

The ‘ticcing fit’ I had the other evening seemed pretty run-of-the-mill to start with until, much to Will’s amusement, I suddenly started going on about cells. This started simply enough:

“Terror cell, Duracell or carousel? Choose.”

Followed closely by:

“Cellphone, cellophane, sell a cat.”…

Describing exactly what it feels like to have a ‘ticcing fit’ to anyone who’s never had one is always a struggle. It’s something that comes up a bit in Backstage in Biscuit Land as well as elsewhere in this blog.

The other night I was trying to convey a specific sensation to Leftwing Idiot.…