If you had a roll call on campus or military parade or on a multi-authored, multi-nationed blogsite there would be a variety of responses. Twas not always so. Previously, the world was a lot bigger and less integrated.
For instance, at my first year class at secondary school there were thirty of us on the register. All with nondescript names like Malcolm, Gordon or Roger. Tell a lie, there was one called Sebastian that we liked to stick pencils into; none of us were saints in those days. Having similar traits we were practically automatons. We were one living entity. Read more…
Some time ago during summer months three of us used to take our lunch break out on the canteen landing. This idyllic setting was on the first floor. After a few weeks one of the men said.
“There goes my plane.” I asked him what he meant and he said. “Every day at this same time that plane flies right over us.”
For the next week we monitored his statement and judged that he was correct. This small plane did indeed fly overhead routinely at the same time. Read more…
A hysterical female voice was on the end of the telephone line that, because of her high-pitched alarmed tone, I couldn’t make out who it was. I passed the receiver over to my wife to see if she could decipher the caller’s problem.
I miss the old original phones. The ones with the huge round dialling face. It was an effort trying to ring an 8 or a 9 number on one of those cumbersome machines. Your pointer would trail round the track with a NASCAR’s differential until it reached the end of the line. Then you let go and the wheel spun back. Pure bliss. Read more…
For about the last six months or so I’ve been hammering out a decent Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door on my old six-string. By decent I mean if you listen carefully and fade-out the discords, the tune is remotely recognisable. I’ve still a long way to go before I become a busker but it’ll happen eventually. Imagine my surprise and horror when my son came in the other day with an electric guitar that he’d bought. Read more…
Those deck chairs were a waste of time. There we were sitting out all night to be first in the queue for signed copies of Jeremy Clarkson’s new book, eating our packed lunches, chasing away scavenging foxes and arguing with late-night revellers as they mocked us on the way past.
“Where are your sunglasses?”
“The Germans are up early as usual”.
Now it was two in the afternoon and we were still the only two people to have turned up at W.H.Smith’s so far. We were standing at the back of the shop in front of an empty desk set up for the promotion; we had folded the deck chairs and placed them in front of Louise Doughty’s books; I don’t know anyone that would ever read that heap of compost. At least in an hour’s time the great man was scheduled to appear. Read more…
The ones at the front were full of people so I entered the train at one of the middle carriages. Travelling light, I was only going to be on for a few stops. I sat down and heard the train whistle. Before it moved away a young man managed to squeeze himself onto the train. Even though there were lots of empty seats he sat on a chair facing me with only a table between us. Little beardy guy, he was. Had socialist written all over him. Was carrying a cheap Pravda rucksack. I expected him to ask me for money.
Trying to ignore miniature Castro and with lunch still some time away, I decided to have a snack. There was a vending machine in my carriage and I fancied a Mars Bar. These machines can be a bit of a lottery at times and they’ve malfunctioned on me many times in the past. This time I felt confident. Read more…
Acting as a villain on an old episode of Kojak the other night was an actor that made my blood boil: Armand Assante. In his earlier film roles he always got to “date” beautiful actresses that I adored. Seeing him brought to book by the good lieutenant gave me a certain schadenfreude as I have unhappy memories of those pictures where he was kissing the face off of my girls. Naturally, those actresses have now weathered slightly but double A got to smooch with them in their prime. All the women are A+ and his first victim was also an AA. Read more…
My youngest son will be 18 in a few weeks. Seventeen has been quite trying for him.
He could have joined the army if he so wished yet is not allowed to buy Call of Duty in the shops. He can fire a live gun but not a simulated computer one.
He can’t vote, which if he did enlist seems unfair. The elected government of his elders could send him off to war. That government might not have got in had his generation had a vote. Read more…
Thus spake Lofty Ghost, the host of the annual meeting of ghosts in a disused warehouse on the edge of town. Every year the spirits wanted a few days off. People aren’t scared at the holiday period, they complain. We should get time off, same as the living, they demand. Jasper Ghost made an impassioned plea.
“After the Queen’s speech, Morecambe and Wise and a full dinner, folk are too full of beans to even half-scare.” Read more…
Acting as a villain on an old episode of Kojak the other night was an actor that made my blood boil: Armand Assante. In his earlier film roles he always got to “date” beautiful actresses that I adored. Seeing him brought to book by the good lieutenant gave me a certain schadenfreude as I have unhappy memories of those pictures where he was kissing the face off of my girls. Naturally, those actresses have now weathered slightly but double A got to smooch with them in their prime. All the women are A+ and his first victim was also an AA. 
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