Senior Writer
United Kingdom 🇬🇧

Crispin OT B

Hire Writer

Bio

Being a writer is all Crispin ever wanted, and after two decades in the wrong profession, his wife convinced him to go full time. Now an award-winning novelist with his dark humour series <em>A Very English Necromancer</em>, Crispin has a near-perfect career. A ghostwriter of multiple published novels, and a copywriter with a successful business, Crispin is a diverse writer who thrives when there’s something to learn. Writing memoirs is part of that, feeding his passion for experiencing and understanding the world through others’ unique perspectives.

Heading 1

Heading 2

Heading 3

Heading 4

Heading 5
Heading 6

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat. Duis aute irure dolor in reprehenderit in voluptate velit esse cillum dolore eu fugiat nulla pariatur.

Block quote

Ordered list

  1. Item 1
  2. Item 2
  3. Item 3

Unordered list

  • Item A
  • Item B
  • Item C

Text link

Bold text

Emphasis

Superscript

Subscript

As a Story Terrace writer, Crispin OT B interviews customers and turns their life stories into books. Get to know our writer better by reading the autobiographical anecdote below!

Aww, That’s Me, Doing the Washing Up!

My hand touches my face, and I feel the soft, sharp hair there. Now it’s trying vainly to cover the expanding spare chin. I shouldn’t have cut it; long, it had been doing a better job.

When I decided that I wanted to have an expansive beard “just like Gandalf”, it never occurred that there would be a length where it stopped growing. It always settled a hand-span from my chin; reasonable, but not what I childishly desired.

I’ve always had long hair. It started with my mother who forewent barbers in favour of a quality bowl-cut, complete with uneven fringe. I had bright blond hair that both my young son and daughter sport now. It looks better on them, but it shone on me, too.

Childhood photographs of me are rare, but I know about the hair from one. I’d been washing up for my grandparents, a child equally eager to please his relatives as he was happy to splash about with the warm suds. I doubt my work on the dishes was particularly stellar, but I knew that it protected my hands from the cold that pervaded 80s homes. A time before central heating, the washing-up water was a welcome respite.

My Grandad hung the framed snapshot on the wall.

Like many proud grandparents, mine had a line of photographs as you went up the stairs; the boys on one wall, the girls opposite. And, on a return visit, he took particular glee in pointing his latest pictures out to my mother.

“Look!” he said, “What do you think?”

“Who’s that girl?” she asked, peering carefully at the child standing on a stool at the sink.

Then, he laughed, a deep raucous chuckle that was destined to taper off to ill-health and sadness. “That,” he enthused, “is your son!”

For my Grandad never really approved of my golden locks. He was more a short back and sides man.

It was a small prank, putting my picture with my girl cousins. A joke to prove a point.

But I didn’t listen; even today, my hair falls onto my shoulders. It has lost the sunshine, and the top is bald, but it remains in defiance of my Grandad’s sensibilities.

I should let the beard grow long again, though I’ll never be the Grey Pilgrim. This chin is better off hidden.

Start Working With Crispin OT B Today!

At StoryTerrace, we believe that every story deserves to be beautifully preserved and shared across generations. Capture your personal or business journey and share your history, experience and wisdom today.

Get started