My childhood was dominated by memories of The King. Elvis Presley, Aaron to be more precise. My mother was in love. She was smitten with this hip-shaking, breath-taking, king of Rock and Roll. We were the family from The Commitments who could not conceive that there was anything better than the lip-curling kid from Tupelo,... Continue Reading →
L If gale-force Fortune sweeps you off you feet, let it; ride it; and admit defeat. There's no point in resisting; it's too strong - willy-nilly, you'll get swept along. Palladas. Tony Harrrison It was an unseasonably warm October night. The high winds of the midweek had ceased and it was still.... Continue Reading →
The problem with tragedy is that it never has a happy ending. Tragedy ends in death. It starts with a bad decision, leads on to disgrace and downfall, scrapes you through a period of suffering that appears never likely to end before there is a realisation, ‘Fuck, that’s what I did wrong’ or, ‘Fuck, I... Continue Reading →
https://youtu.be/JYNWGI6JvnI Moved me to tears. Such a wonderful video. For anybody that side of the pond, he was a famous footballer, now famous pundit. For me he has become a man of the first order. Field of Dreams.
God wishes men to make love to their wives regularly. It's a duty, a religious observance, so why block the bedroom door? For men of independence, it is every day. For labourers, it is twice a week. For donkey drivers, once a week. For camel drivers, it is once every thirty days. For sailors, it... Continue Reading →
Sunday morning has come around again; much too quickly. It came with two possibilities: a passive, meaningless stretch of twenty-four hours or a moment seized and gently squeezed of its goodness. We chose the latter. After a two year battle with the world, I appear to be content. Contentment is so different from its superficial cousin,... Continue Reading →
There's a woman I know who had an idea for a book. She entered a competition for 'Women of Substance' with this idea, and only this idea. She won and got a book deal. The book was written by both the publishers and her with the publishers doing an inordinate amount of research. She... Continue Reading →
Schmuck is a Yiddish word for penis. Le petite mort is French for little death. Betting is claimed to be better than sex.
I read it every five or six years. I go back to it in the same way one might go back to the place in which you grew up. My affair with everything apocalyptical probably came from King; well some of it anyway. The landscape of my youth was clouded by the coming apocalypse. But... Continue Reading →
Being cornered by a difficult decision can be worrying. There are times when we are being demanded to choose a particular course of action in favour of another. We have this idea, this solid appreciation that whatever decision we make is going to have profound consequences. The path that our lives have been set upon... Continue Reading →