And When I Sleep, Luella. [i]

When I Sleep (postcard 2/3) 2013

Letitia waved Luella. Shortly, just shy of the city, with 400 hundred miles ahead, the driver tannoyed a break. Good news for those who been with us since Bristol. Not so, Exeter, Stonebarrow, Penn Beacon. If you need to stretch your legs or smoke. Need the amenities? The coach toilets are out of order. Ten … Continue reading And When I Sleep, Luella. [i]

soubriquet.

bad lieutenant had the greasy palm, sought soft fruit solace in an odd shaped bar. supped black sambuca - contracted boozers' arm. couldn't find way out of carrier bag.   caught a tap on the chin from the bristol crow. grew to dislike soubriquet bestowed. reversed tartan, tripled vodka intake flow. couldn't find way out … Continue reading soubriquet.

Moon, mentioned.

Rib Nite 2 Pig Bill, usually a bear hug guy, comes over, shakes hand, shakes head. No bear hug. The air fills with talcum. It follows him everywhere. Nothing doing, he says. What's this? Tickets for tomorrow's gig, he says. It's a no-goer. And, again, shakes porcine head and does his snort. Talcum tumbles. Not … Continue reading Moon, mentioned.

Chuck Berry’s Briefcase.

Warren appears at the door. He dips a hand into a pocket, palms the Queen, coat tails flapping; street life, movement, magic, within them, for a moment. Glides the tables.  Rows of exclamation marks, nods at question asked. Disappears to the bar. When he returns, he shuffles a chair through his fingertips from a neighbouring … Continue reading Chuck Berry’s Briefcase.

Rib Nite (1): Relax!

Bootstraps flapping. Beneath a fat faced, blazing howler, that is bowling round the bay, i stroll, zither in zip bag, down the coast and, in my sequinned, second best Sunday-best, count off, once again, my every footstep to The Eight Kings. The Pot Noodle hoodie crews, having low-slung motor vehicles and box-fresh, shiny, training shoes, … Continue reading Rib Nite (1): Relax!