Thursday, March 26, 2009
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
it was six in the morning. "Are we ready to rock'n'roll ?"
... asked the efficient looking man with the clipboard at goods-in.
"Well, yes ! In a manner of speaking ...", I replied somewhat hesitantly, pointing down to my regulation industrial footwear
"Well, yes ! In a manner of speaking ...", I replied somewhat hesitantly, pointing down to my regulation industrial footwear
Friday, March 20, 2009
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
my dear aunt mavis forward/ferguson/butler near blorenge ... and in 1943, with her mother violet, my grandmother
when mavis was very small, perhaps around the time that the great first world war was ending, mothers would dress their girls all in white at whitsun
some miners, bringing a wagon full of coal down from their hillside pit, discovered her dressed just so when she had wandered off too far from home that afternoon, and they brought her back sitting on top of their coal
she recalls that her mother "was not best pleased"
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Chapter Ninety Nine: In which our hero discovers the limitations of pathos ...
There is a full moon and the bright air is filled with frost.
In the nearby wood, owls cry and foxes yelp.
Imagine a darkened bedroom in which an exhausted trucker lays down in the hope that sleep will come quickly, but there is a chill in the air and he reluctantly shifts himself in search of some socks because his feet won’t warm up.
The loved one brings in her own little heart-shaped hot-water bottle and she settles down for the night in comfort, on her side of the bed, whereupon, if you had been listening, you might have heard him telling her that,
“In an ideal world, you would curl yourself around my feet !”
And after her contemptuous snort, you might just have caught her monosyllabic rejection, projected as if towards a badly behaved dog.
In the nearby wood, owls cry and foxes yelp.
Imagine a darkened bedroom in which an exhausted trucker lays down in the hope that sleep will come quickly, but there is a chill in the air and he reluctantly shifts himself in search of some socks because his feet won’t warm up.
The loved one brings in her own little heart-shaped hot-water bottle and she settles down for the night in comfort, on her side of the bed, whereupon, if you had been listening, you might have heard him telling her that,
“In an ideal world, you would curl yourself around my feet !”
And after her contemptuous snort, you might just have caught her monosyllabic rejection, projected as if towards a badly behaved dog.
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