The Pear Gateau.

This is another way he remembered her. Her laughter flowered the living room walls causing colours to bloom here and voices, like hot-air balloons, also. Her face framed at the hatch, asking from the kitchen, who’s for dessert. And some of them claimed to be stuffed, but thank you, and some of them, groaning, held … Continue reading The Pear Gateau.

Danny The Cow Hill Dreamer.

They piled the sled with a tray barbecue, some boxed hamburger, some bottles of booze, and they each took a turn to pull this prize bundle from Dovecote estate to the top of Cow Hill. The sky, full of futures and the soft snow, balled, was blue to the coast and, maybe, beyond. Danny kissed … Continue reading Danny The Cow Hill Dreamer.

perhaps this is what they call jazz?

they sat in the low light blue smoke of the room and, after a while, running out of things to say, he picked up a guitar and started to strum some rudimentary chords, plucking triads and tripping harmonics and, believing he was, of a sudden, some old blues man, he began to throw in some … Continue reading perhaps this is what they call jazz?

Notes From a Fragile Island. 14

February 3rd 2001 (Carshalton) Now that the electricity has been cut off we have taken to living by candlelight and eating oily special fried rice takeaways. I have broken up and burnt the shelves in the garage and have been slipping out under cover of the night to saw limbs from the pines, but the … Continue reading Notes From a Fragile Island. 14