Tag Archives: John

Love

While with a nail unpicking at the seal, tearing to check the wrapping paper – for recycling – I went into the room where John was seated.  “That’s the first time I’ve seen you undo a bar of soap,” with … Continue reading

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Snow

The snow’s gone, as has John, not that I’m likening him to the evanescent whitening. He’s not that.  His visiting would incur diminishing in the nature of things – snow too, which lacks the effort of love. I’ve thought of … Continue reading

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Millstone

We had trout fillet and went to Balletboyz who were so sinuous and feline a cat could do no better.  Coming out, waiting for John to buy a burger, I saw the R70, a bus we could take to where … Continue reading

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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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