Tag Archives: David

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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Tim’s Party

Because I’d missed meeting John off the train, he’d the opportunity to ask my neighbour Diana for a cigarette and be told to fuck off. “Can’t a convict cadge a fag any more?” he complained, finding it difficult to take … Continue reading

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Music

Dominika looked lovely, in yellow, with a red cold sore on her lower lip I advised sunblock for if readily to hand . She thought I must’ve been at the Wigmore Hall before the way I talked to the floor … Continue reading

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Respite from Railing

Finding Dominika’s flat involved asking lots of directions from lots of people. Fortunately a secure side door wasn’t (secure), because she wasn’t in to buzz me in. I left the cactus house present and the two torn halves of almost … Continue reading

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