The Swaling, Part Sixty Three
Pandemonium has broken out. “Why the f___ would I want to marry you? Why would anyone want to marry you?” Natasha is yelling and has started to throw things about. At first, Jakey laughed so [more…]
Pandemonium has broken out. “Why the f___ would I want to marry you? Why would anyone want to marry you?” Natasha is yelling and has started to throw things about. At first, Jakey laughed so [more…]
Even before I became obsessed with plants, I was fascinated by perfumes. As a small child, working on the premise that more is more, I remember mixing several bottles of my mother’s precious scents into [more…]
I’m in the lobby of an Islington apartment block. Natasha has directed me and my ward, a wet and dripping pushchair containing a toddler called Jakey, to the lift. Too small for the three of [more…]
An eventful couple of weeks on the political front has culminated in a horny Government Minister apologising (and having his apology accepted by the PM), not for shagging his bit of spare, but for “Breaking [more…]
We are in Battishill Street Gardens, Islington. It is raining. Myself, Natasha Williams and Jakey the borrowed toddler are sat on a bench, sheltered by a tree, next to bushes over-growing a monument. Natasha had [more…]
Litha Litha is the name given to the summer solstice. While the rest of the sabbats that make up the Wheel of the Year have reasonably secure roots in past beliefs and traditions, ‘Litha’ has [more…]
It is nineteen eighty-four. If Big Brother is watching he will observe myself, my colleague Natasha Williams and a disguise enhancing borrowed toddler (called Jakey) in a pushchair hunkered on a bench beneath a tree. [more…]
I am & have been a London clubman most of my life. I have been accused of being a Wodehousian character over the years, I am happy with that, his characters, even the villains are [more…]
Stanislav, a young Polish plumber, in reality a creation of blogger Ismael Smith, now sadly no longer with us. His comments first appeared below the line in the place we don’t speak of, and subsequently [more…]
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