Category Archives: Unreliable memories

Today was spent moving to another apartment, a place by myself. It comes fully furnished, right down to every electrical appliance and the cutlery in the kitchen drawers. It is the the fifteenth change of address in forty years (and … Continue reading →

There were men in the village as wide as the proverbial barn door, men who would pick up a hundredweight sack of corn and stand with it on their shoulder while talking to friends. There were men who would work … Continue reading →

Mature Cheddar cheese, Branston Pickle, a handful of baby tomatoes, pickled beetroot, granary bread with full cream Irish butter, probably not the healthiest of teas, but one that has a Sunday feeling about it. (Perhaps a wedge of fruit cake … Continue reading →

John Creedon played David Bowie’s Kooks. It seemed unsettling. David Bowie belonged to a different world, a world that seemed strange and threatening. It is odd that someone who was the antithesis of violence seemed to have such a capacity … Continue reading →

“He went over the hedge with Pammie in the car. He was going down Turn Hill.” The story was unsurprising. Pammie was a slim, blonde-haired, blue-eyed head turner. If you were old enough to have had a bank account, you … Continue reading →