"You’re telling me, when you went to church as a kid, you never got an orange with a candle stuck in it?" "An orange?" "Christmas orange." "At Christmas?" "Uh huh. With a candle." "Don't think I ever went to church as a kid." "Hmm. Well, you got this orange, okay, with a candle stuck in … Continue reading No wig, no gig.
some memory of blue clay, of buttered gorse, jutting bayonet of flint, half-hidden, always just an inch away, this very, very evening, returned again, beleaguered, beached and batchelor: palm of secret, saddened gems. the following adornments remain abandoned on the tidal floor waiting for me to discover them - a glass of sand, a special … Continue reading hinge of laughter.
It is a large, damp, sea-facing attic with a box bedroom, box bathroom, box 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.
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