Tag Archives: John

Grouting

John said Manuel had gone through all of us for sex, that I was dancing reluctantly with him.  I have only the most skiting recollection of this but, on telling Adrian what John said, he remembered I had, latterly to … Continue reading

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Impromptu

Couldn’t sleep for resenting John’s foisting himself on me for Xmas to avoid providing for himself in his new home which has had a fridge with nothing in it and a cooker unused from the beginning of the week while … Continue reading

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Revelations

I wasn’t sure I would go and if I did that I’d read; there was nothing appropriate in Mayakovsky to pay tribute to John’s communism.  John – not Elliott – wanted to go; of the Writers’ Group, he rated John’s … Continue reading

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An All-day Party

Night before I prepared the guinea fowl for slow-cooking.  In the morning I started on vegetarian dishes from recipes I’d been saving: harissa roast potatoes, beans, tomatoes and fried potatoes, baked eggs on chard but gave up on John’s appearing … Continue reading

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Gay Day

Boarding the train, I went one way for a seat and John the other, where he took a single seat.  I sat beside a bearded young man who kept looking at me furtively.  Opposite was a boy who said we … Continue reading

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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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Visiting Diana

Yesterday I thought I might use my continued sluggishness to renege on my agreement to go to Camden with John but I was soon moving fast.  I don’t like going to places for their own sake.  I require an ulterior … Continue reading

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