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.
"Aye, coffin nails," she says regarding the spread of used cigarettes collected on the table before her. Her dreadlocks are corralled on top of her small head with a knotted tie-dye rag. She wears a lot of tie-dye. She laughs and the tips of hair prance on her shoulders like waxen ponies. She drums her … Continue reading Blanket For A Bairn.
The hospital wards held a distinctive smell. Disinfectant and desperation and decay. In the tea room it was less so. In the tea room it smelled of biscuits. It smelled of apple pie and powdered custard. He was sat in the tea room. Everywhere he looked, people looked ill. Or sick with worry. A sort … Continue reading Fast & Slow Educations.
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