Tag Archives: Dan

Wild Boys Party

In see-through red shirt I’ve had for over fifty years and Japan windcheater, off to Quentin’s party with champagne, cake, box of chenin blanc, card and Latin dictionary.  He’d said he’s doing Latin.  Wrong address directed me to right one, … Continue reading

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Snapshots of Performance Art for Writing Group

I was feeling shoogly.  At Clapham Junction a girl took the emptied seat.  I wasn’t going to make her feel bad about it.  What did I have to do to get a seat, faint?  A burly young bespectacled man offered … Continue reading

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Quentin’s Symposium

I intended not to phone John as he’d asked but go to Quentin’s symposium on my own but he was standing in wait outside Richmond station.  He hadn’t any more money than the night before and an oyster card with … Continue reading

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Party in Two Parts

Letting the oven continue roasting the potatoes at a peep for the vegetarian dish, I went out for the Standard.  Kate and John were waiting for me when I returned empty-handed at three.  “You’re looking a lot better,” I told … Continue reading

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