a bowlegged woman and a woe betide gent and a worrisome teen with marker pens, come suddenly through the door. Over the rim of his jar, he decides them, "a very rum number indeed."
So,
The Wronged Tree.
The back lane, this new-year dawn, is littered, bleakly - tumbled bins, spent bottles, knuckled tabs, sodden boxes; hound shites, plastic wraps, a quilted headboard, yellowed hand towel; wrapping-paper tumbleweeds troubling parked cars; a bloody gown of herring gull (gutting something); and the last, the very last, or the first, Christmas tree, skulking and skittling … Continue reading The Wronged Tree.
Notes From a Fragile Island. 9
December 24th 2004 (Croydon) After work I go back to the house, shower and change. Off to Purley to meet up with PS, Tom K, Kelly H, Punk Wayne, Hannarama, Ronnie Kay, Fashion A, Mark and Nick B at The Foxley Hatch. They have been there for some hours already. I decide to walk in … Continue reading Notes From a Fragile Island. 9
nickreeves 