I saw this huge, humanoid yet elemental creature walking slowly up the hill towards me; it looked as though a tree had uprooted itself and draped itself in lianas but with arms and legs. The fact that it was 100′ feet tall and carrying a rabbit that was nearly as… Read More »Run rabbit, run. But don’t break the egg 093/100
The tarmac was melting underfoot. I could feel my shoes sticking to it after each step, a sucking, slurping sound as each sole reluctantly lifted. The scorching heat was causing fires to break out, poisonous smoke and gases shrouding me. I had to walk down the road to the post… Read More »The fruit, the ferment, the heat 092/100
The rain hadn’t stopped for over a week. We’d been told that it’s forecasted until the end of the month. Yet another reason to try and get out of this God-forsaken hell-hole country. I like rain as much as the next person. But not all the time. I’d managed to… Read More »The mud, the marsh, the drink 091/100
The lamb looked diseased. Its skin like a marshmallow left too long bubbling on the poker in front of the fire. I’d been out doing some grocery shopping and on the way had been surprised to hear cicadas chirping from the meadow-field, next to the old path leading into the… Read More »Lamb portents in the village 090/100
I woke from a sweaty, clawing, bedclothes tangling dream. It felt so real, enough that — whilst so glad to be awake — so real that I feared a heart attack. What scared me you ask? I’d been trapped in a shed. Not sure where it was but hot, damp.… Read More »Balls on the roof, pain in my heart 089/100
We all know old Harry; he’s on plot 15, the one with the best soil, the best location, the closest to the manure pile. Because he’s on the parish council, so, you know? Bylaws say “no animals”. Harry keeps a fucking python in a shed. A python! It’s not escaped… Read More »Rice and and a snake in the grass 088/100
The bar got noisier as the booze intake level got higher. I wouldn’t have minded this 20 or even 10 years ago but seriously? I’m too old for this loud shit. Too many youthful deafening gigs meant I couldn’t even hear the barman. I decided to head home. Paid the… Read More »Red anchovies at night, ear-ache delight 087/100
The smell of fennel was strong; I’d no idea where it was coming from but there’s no mistaking that aniseed whiff. Maybe a previous passenger had spilt some on the floor in the back? No time to check as I’ve got to get to the abandoned mine quickly. I can… Read More »Fennel flourishes & fearsome teeth 086/100
It started out as another glorious day at 6AM; blue, almost turquoise blue, skies, a warm breeze that stirred the leaves, birds, sounding just as happy, singing, everyone I saw on my way into town smiling at this outlier weather. It’s true, you know? Smiling does make you feel better.… Read More »If you can’t stand the heat… 085/100
The tell-tale that sealed his fate was the clumsy attempt to pass off his information to his contact, apparently hidden inside a folded copy of Pravda. Not a newspaper you see a lot of in the small Cotswold village of Lower Binden. That he thought he’d be inconspicuous doing so… Read More »Sour grapes and Russian spies 084/100
The sea rose and rose and rose and we’d lost the important south island a few years back. None of us had eaten meat for years, no land for animals left, so seaweeds and molluscs our diet now. Yesterday Sarah died from an infection after she’d spiked her foot on… Read More »Building barriers 083/100
Had I not detoured via the open street market to pick up Mum’s cassava roots, this wouldn’t have happened. The stomach churning lurch as my bike tipped into the ‘well’ that suddenly loomed in the pavement in front of me was impossible to halt; as was the subsequent slide down… Read More »Yucking it up? Naaah, down. 082/100
Egyptians talked of Ammit; the ‘Eater of Hearts’. I’d laughed at these primitive old ideas. A stupid religion, like all stupid religions. At least in the light of day, I laughed. After midnight, here in the museum, I was less sanguine — did you know that word originally meant “blood… Read More »Pyramids, hearts & guarding the cake 081/100
We’d been told not to go and protest; we were little more than kids, so of course we ignored the parents and lecturers. To us the march was the most important thing this year. The bosses were trying to close down the printing presses, they wanted to “automate”, to “modernise”,… Read More »Wapping, water & walking 080/100
I remember the first time I heard REM singing about Andy Kaufman, the man in the moon, remade for the 20th Century. A diamond in the rough. Beautifully over-dressed, always lurching over the top, his ‘singing’ enough to make dogs howl at the midnight crescent. For no obvious reason, that… Read More »Diamonds and bread 079/100
The route through the curiously empty back-streets to the old building was overgrown, greenery lapping at the edges and even overhanging, forcing us to duck down on occasion but its distinctive, brick-built cube remained still visible at the very end of the trail, a proper ‘footpath’ not paved or tarmac… Read More »Noodling in the nettles 078/100
“There are [apparently] eight million stories in the naked city”. I never thought I’d ever find myself the subject of one them. It started when putting out the bins… At 5’ 1” my heels usually help. Usually. Today, the boots slipped off as I leant over, which meant that after… Read More »Saucy Cubans 077/100
Saffron. Ah, yes, Saffron. Where do I start with this grade-A bitch? What always got me was the “but she’s got beautiful hair” as though this somehow excused her actions. Yes, tresses that Rapunzel would have been proud of but a heart that was curdled vinegar, a morality that saw… Read More »Hippy curls 076/100
Standing on the foreshore, thoroughly rain sodden, I’m almost impossible to distinguish from the sky, the shelving shingle the sea, colours leaching away, merging into slabs of grey. The gulls, screeching, wheeling, side-slipping, feckless, sad sounding. This picture sounds so very miserable, that you might well ask of me “why… Read More »Liquorice on the tongue; beef in the belly 075/100
I stand on the shingle, rain soaking me through, almost impossible to distinguish me from the sky, the sea, colours leached away, merged into a sheet of grey. Even the screaming gulls, wheeling, side-slipping, feckless, sound sad. It sounds as miserable as it appears. So, why am I here in… Read More »Uni on the tongue; soothing to the soul 074/100
Well, let me confirm — and for the absence of doubt (as the legal lot are fond of saying) — that I’m not planning on consuming food off the actual line, no, that’d be dangerous and dirty. (It may be an experiment worth making — by someone else mind —… Read More »A days eating off the Victoria Line 073/100
The River Ouse that is; along whose banks linger hidden skeletons of railway lines — long now gone — although the whistle of the steam engine seems to drift across a shaded inlet occasionally, a dove-cote, prowed like an old dreadnought, brick built by some bloated landowning plutocrat, whose belly… Read More »A dove-cote and a slide in the ooze 072/100.
Just a brief rest; I’m still making notes, writing bits & pieces as well as drafts but I don’t want to feel obliged to update this site each and every day otherwise it starts to feel or starts to becomes a chore rather than a pleasure to treasure. I need… Read More »A hiatus 071/100
The increasingly irritated sound of the service bell, getting louder and faster, more frantic and more insistent as no one, not one fucking team member appears to pickup his readied plates.
A series of thoughts as I wander the Green Lanes… The bustle of Ridley Road market. Bought a battery pack — from a small Turkish run hole-in-the-wall shop, narrow, deep, not 100% lit, lots of people laughing, smiling, joking, speaking Turkish and taking things our of the boxes to inspect… Read More »The rainbow road, or the A10 in motion 069/100
Sitting in the basement bathroom. An insecure door. The whole floor though is quiet, deserted, closed up. Gary Newman playing on Spotify, the lights in the toilet keep flickering. People walking around above my head. What happens when I’m murdered? Chef will notice I’m not eating his food… “This can’t… Read More »Will they even notice I’ve gone? 068/100
A metal fire-escape staircase. Strong of course. But pretty lethal in the wet. I once knew a law firm that was so posh (& because they were lawyers knew how bad it could get if you didn’t do H&S properly, employer liability, duty of care, blah blah blah and all… Read More »The fire escape 067/100
Do you need a test drive? Surely at least one before you have to get a licence for this state… There’s a British couple who once found themselves living (and working) in America. They weren’t married; both having been married before, they saw no reason to inflict that pain on… Read More »A licence to marry… 066/100
Lisa wiped the last remnants of the meal off her face; it’d been just as she liked her food. She could get messy, could get involved. Tobias was similarly ‘shiny’ from the grease and fat. As indeed were the two Brits. No one had held back, as all were food… Read More »We’re not the Mafia you know! 065/100
Stevie and I were finally alone now with Tobias and Lisa. Thankfully, Tony was off doing Tony-stuff, whatever that involved (no one wanted to enquire too closely) the rest of the team (although still in the building and waiting for an update from us on the search) were keeping a… Read More »Back-room revelations 064/100
