How I got my Johnny Seven in 1967.
By order of the lovely LWC
On the 2nd of August 1972 my little sister was born at WestCumberland hospital Whitehaven.
My childhood was taken away by they immoral vile sovereignty; my future plans were just an impractical figment of my imagination; it was never plausible; an ambition that was enviably bound to sink, n
After 28 years living in the U.S., I decided to pack it in and travel around Southeast Asia before re-locating to the U.K. This is a collection of stories I wrote about my travels.
The second part of the story posted last month......
This is a true story about Health & Safety Managers. What they are really like.
The word that made me remember
Things I never wanted to learn about my own past
A long forgotten silent movie star takes the opportunity to come down and set the record straight.
In the back seat of a car I feel and hear the clunk-click of the seat belt lock and I look down to see my skinny seven year-old body buckled in safely (though really I might have been six or nine or t
It was another one of my mother’s disappearances that sparked his rage that day. She’d been gone all weekend. No phone call.
Life was a happy place, and a simple one.
I don't know if it was a dream, or reality.
Always I used to try
and get it to rise
beat and beat the eggs
with a fork in those times
Could look like a sponge
time was up come out flat
maybe had forgotten
Perhaps now could be a time to address the reader and be clear about my intentions with all these stories about women.
Oh boy, what a change from London Transport. It’s like going back in time.
On the one side, the pace of life is considerably slower than the smoke which is a good thing (I think).
There was once a little sausage called Baldrick and, he lived happily ever after.