No wig, no gig.

"You’re telling me, when you went to church as a kid, you never got an orange with a candle stuck in it?" "An orange?" "Christmas orange." "At Christmas?" "Uh huh. With a candle." "Don't think I ever went to church as a kid." "Hmm. Well, you got this orange, okay, with a candle stuck in … Continue reading No wig, no gig.

very faintly.

      the wardrobe in the corner, high, not quite to the ceiling. and, one night, napoleonic, a guardsman, there, crouched.   black boots to his chin. arms wrapped around his knees. brass buttons, gold braid, red tunic. dust marks brushed the evening.   sabre, trapped. scabbard, palmed and yellow skin. he is speaking the french language … Continue reading very faintly.

rumbling over the severn, my belly thinking my throat’s been cut.

    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.

side two of beggars banquet.

the very last words that she heard were, “hey, man! they’ve just landed!” it was late one night in ‘69 we laid her out on a big blue blanket. we carried her down to the beach through the town, there was a storm brewing on the atlantic. (the needle fell and i heard the sound of side … Continue reading side two of beggars banquet.

A Beautiful, Deer Antler Handle.

Dave was one of the Catford street cleaners. He worked Inchmery Road (we lived at no. 3) and the surrounding roads of SE6. This was Dave’s patch. Being the 1960s, everyone knew Dave and Dave knew everyone. His were the eyes of the neighbourhood; in the same way that the bobby and the milkman were … Continue reading A Beautiful, Deer Antler Handle.