It's becoming something of a thrill to find the kettle partially filled, thus saving me the long haul to the faucet. I walked midweek to Whitley Bay and though I never planned it this way, on a whim, I spent a wage on a wooden spoon, some loose tea, "half a dozen of those fancy … Continue reading It’s becoming something
All their good stories had been sold - Second-hand windows on the world. Wisdom is anecdotal, I suppose. Whispers, I hear, are never told.
He had risen not unusually for a week day or weekend afternoon - the sun chased the moon between the clouds; both shimmering in the tree boughs, like matinées (before the talkies); the hanging rain, the red puddles of leaves in the street - * but he found himself wondering again as he shaved, smearing … Continue reading Humming Neil Sedaka.
nickreeves 