La Casa Del Gato Gordo, Canary Islands, March 26th 2020. Dear Son, So this lockdown business, what a fucker isn’t it, I had plans, lots of plans & they’ve all gone tits up. It galls me somewhat that instead of being in India I’m 9244 kilometres away from where I intended to be & am … More Writing Home.
The first time I remember seeing padlocks on a bridge was in Paris, on the Pont Des Arts, which straddles the Seine close by Notre Dame. When I got there I was amazed, this bridge was covered in thousands and thousands of padlocks. … More Love Locks
“You men have it easy” she said … More Three Wishes
An August evening in Edinburgh & three Englishmen step into a black cab on Princes Street. I pull the door closed behind me with a resounding clunk & ask the cabbie if he can drop us at decent Bar in the Old Town. He cogitates and after a lengthy pause replies wth a single word in an accent as thick as a bowl of lumpy porridge: Aye.
… More Sassenach @ The Festival
Corfu saturday night & there’s a party going on in my rooms, I am the host. One solitary Englishman & all the rest Greek. I did not plan this, nor indeed did I even realise it was happening, until that is I woke up at 3.30am on sunday morning to find my entire body covered … More Bloody Karma
June 4th – Trump is coming to town, divisive- loathsome-rascist-climate-change-denying-mysoginistic-wanker-shit-house-excuse of a man. You may glean from my words that I am not a great fan. From here on I will just call him 45, this seems rather fitting on a number of levels:- (i) Two digits is all I would give him. (ii) In some … More 45 4.6 with Fried Chicken
Take a look at the picture, some sixties hippie? Actually this photo was taken in 1917. The fella in the photo was one of the ‘Nature Boys’ a small bunch of guys who in the early years of the twentieth century were perhaps what you might call proto-hippies, or forefathers of the flower power generation, and maybe much more besides.
… More Nature Boys
We are the music-makers And we are the dreamers of dreams, Wandering by lone sea-breakers And sitting by desolate streams; World losers and world forsakers, On whom the pale moon gleams: Yet we are the movers and shakers Of the world for ever, it seems. We, in the ages lying In the buried past of … More Dreamer in the Dream
Truth Mark Twain said is stranger than fiction, because fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities, truth is not. A chap by the name of Louis Hardin that I’ve recently read about seemed to have a life that echoed Twains adage rather well. Louis was born in 1916, in Marysville a sleepy little town in … More Howling at the Moon.
Winter has settled here in London and the clocks tick inexorably towards the end of another year. The people of London who in summer sported t shirts and shorts now wrap themselves in thick coats and scarves and wooly hats. The Cafes that grew in spring and flowered in summer, when tables and chairs spilled … More Gypsy