Walking unhurriedly in an English summer garden. Tasty tea and classic crumbly cake consumed. A warm and bright day. Walking with a camera in my hand, even if only out of habit. Walking as a happy enough visitor – even if I’m aware I’m unable to see the garden as a gardener might. We can’t … (Read More)
Perhaps A Beggar (≅ 436)
Perhaps I’m a delusional fool. Perhaps she isn’t actually poor. Perhaps she’d merely chosen to earn some spare change by singing Middle Eastern songs in the streets of England. Perhaps she needs to practice her singing and thought she might as well try to earn a few quid while she works through her repertoire. Perhaps … (Read More)
In Prison
(What led to the ‘So It Goes’ story and photo.) A local prison was closing down and some public tours were being run before the bulldozers arrived. Lucky enough to have never been in prison – neither incarcerated, visiting an inmate nor as a member of staff – I went along. It was just curiosity. … (Read More)
So It Goes
In prison. Doing a stretch. Locked-up. Banged-up. In chokey. And so on. Call it what you like. What you call it changes nothing. “Make me an offer I can’t refuse”, I said. And he did, and so I didn’t. And so I’ve ended up here. It’s that simple; that’s all it boils down to. Fleshing … (Read More)
Jack Frost
With the cold comes Jack Frost, but relying on superstition and blaming Jack for winter is asking for too much cancelled disbelief; it grows ever harder to even suspend it. Without lost-in-misty-time fancies, without those easy comforts, Mr Frost is often judged a cold killer – and at best is dismissed brusquely as generally, often … (Read More)
A Dartmoor Story
(Why the ‘Dartmoor Voice’ story was written.) I was alone and walking on Dartmoor. It was a fairly bleak day and I hadn’t seen anyone for quite a while. I stumbled while up on top of a tor and that’s what led me to think about dying up there. That sounds terribly serious but it … (Read More)
Dartmoor Voice (≅ 985)
Kim was pleased: a foul day up on higher Dartmoor and it was as deserted as hoped-for. Some real peace and quiet, at last, far away from anyone prying. A stumble near the edge while up high on a tor without a known name, a long way from any road, had been scary but for … (Read More)
Pauses Between Thoughts
(Why ‘So She Left’ was written the way it is.) I wanted to write a story that’s also an experiment in creating pauses between paragraphs, to provide obvious opportunities for just a little time to think. We are repeatedly told that the pace of life is increasing – and that’s how it often actually feels. … (Read More)
(50 Pauses) So She Left (≅1,483)
She had a cat called Sid and a husband named James; she would introduce them as “Sid, James”. In the main only older people got the joke though. Neither Sid nor James made her laugh much anyway. ********** James cycled to work every morning, spent the day carving – mainly funeral stuff – at a … (Read More)
Responding To War
(The background to the short piece ‘In A Government Canteen’.) I’ve a friend who says the state of the world is a cause for pessimism. I’ve known him for years; extrovert optimism wouldn’t suit him but outright pessimism? I’m not sure, but I can’t deny that what he says feels well-founded in 2017. The right-wing … (Read More)
