Martin Kettle, formally of Stoneyclough but now resident of Penn Beacon, was stood on a table in the Eight Kings. He was taping the fourth corner of a large poster of Bob Dylan's face to the wall at the end of the bar. "No, no, Sam," he was saying. "It's ‘uff’, not ‘ow’. Stoneyclough." He … Continue reading The Bristol Arm.
I signed up for a course - Creative Journaling: it ticked all the boxes. Something that I've always done. Well, you gotta have a hobby, innit. The amusement being me (I should put more effort in). The notebook is the end of the novel - Wish I'd said that - I just did (I note … Continue reading My Strasse.
NB and I have traded letters and postcards since 2005. I always look forward to his correspondence and keep them, unopened, on the mantelpiece until I need a little pick-me-up. Last week I began a difficult reply to his latest, but this morning I finished it and folded the 5 sheets and the ephemera, found … Continue reading Palm Sunday correspondence (excerpt)
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