Tag Archives: Quentin

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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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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Karaoke Party, from Diary Entry

The train was packed until Clapham Junction.  I found The Old Crown though that its advertising itself as OC fooled me for a minute.  Seeing no one in the bar I proceeded through to stairs going up and climbed to … Continue reading

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To Blog: Model Party

Aiming for the start at 8:30, after peeing I left at 7:30 for Joe’s party Dominika had invited me to, taking the fast train to Waterloo, Jubilee to Canada Waters and found the DLR station, after asking where it was … Continue reading

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To Blog or Not to Blog

Went off at 7:30 to Joe’s party and as usual was first to arrive.  Metta, Joe’s partner, is Dutch and had lost her fanny bag with passport in it and cards.  She wanted the sound system on the roof of … Continue reading

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