[Rib Nite 3] Ever woke up from a big old sleep and wondered, wondered why your ribs are a-blowing in the breeze? Ever woke up on a vee dubya backseat? On a backseat with a head like a plug of Camembert cheese? Well, forgive me, please, but you ain't ever woke up. * He wondered … Continue reading Cup & Saucer.
8 [photocopy of a snapshot] I cut Lillian's hair every twelfth week, dry it every sixth. It grows. I cut it. I dry it. It has become grey by increments; city pigeon to autumn noon, fading print to cigarette ash. Each accretion of tone slowly highlighting further her pink brittle cheeks, the pools … Continue reading Mirror (8): Pale Airman.
It is a large, damp, sea-facing attic with a boxy bedroom, boxy bathroom, boxy kitchen. The walls bow beneath my palm. I best not get drunk. I move in and I make a pyramid of my belongings: how did they do that? On a shelf above the bath I find a paperback of Graham Greene's … Continue reading The Quite American.
Do not want to hear bells! Bells!?? Weather!! One wit wrote, Every time that bloody bell rings it gets foggy! Stop it! But he didn't control weather, he just wanted to warn the ships in the bay. My wife can't sleep! Turn that light off!
I'm over here - in the hearth - sitting in the fireplace, in the flames, atop the crackling wood. I'll whisper or I'll shout your name as the glow of the logs oranges my skin. The sap bubbles all about me, the pine cones pop, but still I cannot raise a heat. Oh, if only … Continue reading Cold As Mackerel, See.
41 By the time war broke out the Ferrara’s had a string of parlours stretching from Barton Sands through to Dorchester in the east and Lymington in the west. They employed some 60 locals and the twins would be sure to turn up and chat with the customers and always roll up their sleeves … Continue reading The Surprising Successes of The Ferraras (part three of three)