Dylan Thomas, in First Class, dispatching Rainbow Trout (tatties, peas and half a stout). There's scurf on the shoulders of his tweed ('Howell's of St. Mary St., Cardiff'). Mistook him for a Beatle. "Ringo's in the dining car!" "A cwtsh for a poxy autograph?" (Who's he think he is! Richard Burton?) … Continue reading rumbling over the severn, my belly thinking my throat’s been cut.
Of clearing her father’s house in Enfield, she would only stand to say, “Have you ever tried to sell a baby grand? Or even given one away?” After forever it was all that was left. Guess this world has little need for a baby grand beneath a paper lampshade, on the quiet parquet. … Continue reading Prompts for future conversation.
I went to the bathroom and fished a couple of cans from the bath. When I came back Dizzy was chatting to a woman who also had an eye patch. I gave him a beer and went outside. Little Annie was on the patio with a blond boy in a tee shirt that read Bob … Continue reading Leaving The Pirate Party.
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