Writer, Publisher, Retired
I can’t remember if it was Hannington Point or…
Whatever. But I remember clearly the Vic had an all day licence and the spring weather, or was it summer or autumn or winter, was warm clear and fine. It was good to be sitting on the small grass verge outside the Vic drinking beer so early in the morning. And smoking.
Continue reading–Santa, the Man Mountain and a bottle of water called Virgin–
Today in the cold light of day, I saw Santa coming out of our building. I never knew he lived there. His white beard and white hair lining his ruddy face, but today unlike other days when I saw him in the coffee shop between the two vast condominium projects, his face shrunken and redder than ruddy, looking older and weather beaten, and it shrunk towards the centre in a way that plants shrivel if encountering hot water. But still his natural smiling face just visible within that vastly hungover look. Next to him his Thai wife looking fresh, or at least as fresh as anyone in her 50’s can look, with her down turned lip edges from a life of hard toil and stress, but today as always now, looking content with her lot.
Continue readingAndy and I sat around a small table close to the fire or fake fire in the large lounge of the George surrounded by people of all ages and backgrounds. We were quiet and enjoying the occasional memory of school or occasional exchange of work story or comment on the football. It was a warm inviting and relaxing environment fueled by the warmth of the fire and the background buzz of voices with the smell of cigarettes and the occasional cigar hanging in the air complete with the occasional blast of cold and wisp of mist when someone held the door open too long.
Continue readingPerpetual good or bad luck is something that seems to follow some people you meet on the traveler or expat circuit. It is not something all or even many possess, but a few seem to just be gifted or cursed with it.
Bernard was not a lucky man. Maybe not as unlucky as British Steve, but unlucky nevertheless. Nearly everything he did turned to disaster. Now some will say that luck – good or bad is something you make for yourself. And in Bernard’s case this may be true to some extent. Maybe it was his criminality that had an effect on this; maybe it was his belief in how smart he was that had an effect. It was true that Bernard thought he was smarter than most, and that he could always get one over on others. It was not, however, a trait that sprang to mind when others thought of Bernard whoever those others were. But one thing all would agree on, was that Bernard was unlucky.
Continue readingThe freshly cut coriander roots smelt wonderful infusing the whole house with their virgin freshness as they awaited becoming some addition to a preplanned dish, and by doing so losing the extent of their odour, losing their power to totally overwhelm and becalm, losing their power to demand to be noticed but adding a more subtle hint of flavour, more of an afterthought, or reminder of something not fully known, but stirring in the back of the mind. A distant memory perhaps, or distant event, or maybe not distant, or something, just something that can’t be quite placed.
Continue readingIt is almost two years now, and I suppose it is time to record the actual true events before they fade or my memory decides to exclude such things that don’t fit with preconceived and taught ideas typical of someone raised in the rational and heartless late 60’s and 70’s. It also seems fitting as I sit once more, where I did that day, on the raised dot mypai with a pencil and cheap paper notebook feeling the breeze from the small green fan as the heat of the summer rises once more past body temperature.
Continue reading… there she was again. Maybe thirty meters in front and about to round the corner.
Sudden surge forward. I couldn’t miss her this time. And yet there she was at the next corner about to take a right still thirty meters ahead. I was determined this time I would get level. A sprint and quick right, and where was she? Hold on, maybe to the left just the bottom of her long flowing coat. Another sprint and a left, and yes there thirty meters in front she was. I must be catching her as now; I could again see her. And another sprint but still after the next left, well twenty-five meters maybe. I was going to make it after all. Then she took a right. OK another sprint and this time only twenty meters away. I wanted to call out to her but…
Continue readingGerry had issues; Gerry was haunted. Neither were going to ever go away. What actually caused the issues or haunting would never ever be known by anyone except Gerry. It is the natural way of some things.
Continue readingSo, there was I crawling on all fours around a damp dark smelly room, dressed in rubber boots and rubber gauntlets, looking for cock.
*****
It was a warm sunny day with clear skies except for the occasional tiny white cloud bouncing in the sea of blue. The warmth hit me and a first drip of perspiration rolled down my neck. It was a lovely day to go out and do something worthwhile on – May in England could sometimes but not often be like this. Oh there I go again. Right British. Already going on about the weather. Apologies for that. Let’s get back to the story. So where was I? Oh yes, a lovely day. What could I spend it doing? But I already knew. The local non-league football team had a game at home, and I would take the long 2 mile walk from my parent’s home, where I was visiting, to the ground and enjoy the game. The team were doing well and it should be an easy win.
Continue readingAh, release! I glided slowly at first but then warming up nicely behind, and picking up speed. High, high, high above the low clouds, and viewed from above they were as cotton wooled carpet onto which you could step. A temptation. I wanted to take that now and walk and roll and play in that pure white shining mass washed in the intense glow of the sun so warm above me. I wanted to, but I could not stop for my destiny had been decided long ago by others greater than me.
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