Get out tha bloody fireplace, you daft wassock! Tha’s wha she’d say if she could see me now. The missus. Well, she carn’t see me now or hear me neither. And don’t think I ain’t tried. I’ve followed er round from Chideock to Charmouth and from beach to bed and back again. I been right … Continue reading Cold As Mackerel.
Despite having spent an age arranging the blind so that she could sit on the rug with her back to the sofa and watch the morning lighten within their slatted lengths, she found herself under heavy cloud, brewing, quite unable to play. She laid the cold horn on the sofa, scooped up her shades from … Continue reading Birdsong of The Spoons.
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.
this autumn morning, the same, almost so, as several in childhood, spent trying not to watch the bowl of oats and milk cooling on the sill. "waiting," he told me, "is a patient game." watching vapours reach for the ceiling. "the ancient greeks made shields from porridge. or was it the polynesians?" he … Continue reading re: ancient civilisations.
They’ve bottled the old man Grinner. Caresses ya throat as it passes, it do. Good as gold it is, too. Takes ya right back, that’s what a good drink do. Takes ya right back to the old days. Helps ya remember. Helps ya forget. Or somethink. They've made a commemorative cider of his home-brew scrumpy. … Continue reading Old Man Grinner
sometimes you meet yourself from the future sometimes you meet yourself from the past sometimes you will be the teacher sometimes the top of the class sometimes you glimpse yourself in the mirror - say hello to those you pass on the path ∞
