Fiona

Apologies, Alex. 190 words. Unfinished, indulgent and undoubtedly DQ’d, but I wanted you to know I made an effort 😊

UNTITLED

If he, Thomas Hicks, aged 52 years, 5 months and 19 days, were to try to recollect a time in the stoicism of his existence, when he had laughed such a laugh, he could not.

It was, for want of better description, a swallow…[Read more]

You have a calm, authoratative voice that is perfect for these blogs, Richard. I start one of these and it’s like eating something delicious: I can’t stop until it’s finished.

On the topic itself: it’s reassuring to think that we’ve come a long way since those unreconstructed days of holy capital. Then I consider the unreported disaster that has…[Read more]

Change for the better?

I was born in Dovercourt, Essex, in my paternal grandparent’s house, to which they’d moved when my father was five years old. He, being still in the RAF was told of my arrival by telegram. The house was small; too small for five adults (my father’s sister lived there too) and baby, but we lived there for several years…[Read more]

All Change!

First thing I noticed was the sodding light switch. I’m stood like a plonker in the door to the kitchen, whacking the wall and finding—nothing. No light switch. Just a plastered wall. I mean, bloody hell! How’s a man supposed to make his bleedin’ morning cuppa if he can’t see what’s what? After about a minute of pointless slapping, I…[Read more]

I did the same with this reply as so often before: typed it, went to check something, got distracted, forgot all about it, closed the laptop, assumed I’d sent it.

Mark 2.

Thanks @daedalus. I find that I remebered more than I thought, although We’reNot in Kansas Any More had eluded me for a bit. The two earlier ones were first, the Intercity…[Read more]