It is my habit to keep your letters, on arrival, unopened on the mantelpiece, among the mementos and dusty treasure, for sometimes up to a week. Anticipation being one of life's sweeter pleasures. Your bold black hand, the seal of tape (security), the amusing doodles of hairy noses, the way you address the envelope Doctor … Continue reading They tame tigers down that way.
the thinner spectre of the two, pale and serene and half in shadow, from the creases of the curtain, floats a plaintive lullaby - her song for sleepless children. "this plastic fort for a painted cowboy, this tepee for a brave. this mountain range of books to read 'The Kid took the reins and … Continue reading her song for sleepless children
Am I being noisy or too quiet, dear muse? Politeness, the choice of weapon we choose. We listened to ‘the season of the witch.' This is our secret and how I wish I adored your sleight of hand ways – but... the silent rewriting and riot of this early spring evening on Whitley Bay beach … Continue reading The Byrds fell in love with Bob.
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.
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
January 29th 2013 (Lyme Regis) The dreadful crow and his beau downstairs continue their miserable existence and in doing so they make my life miserable, too. The endless rows over pennies, the irrational paranoia, the poor music choices, the language, even the laughter rankles. I wouldn't mind the language, I rather admire a person who … Continue reading Notes From a Fragile Island. 13