-
Recent posts
Topics
Author Archives: memoirsofahusk
Red
She’s proud of her delicate feet, her fine ankles and shapely, slender calves, bare below her petticoat. The red shoes are her favourites. She wears them for luck, to charm the eye of – whomever. The journey was … Continue reading
Posted in Thinking, or ranting, or both, Travelling, Uncategorized
Tagged Auschwitz, Birkenau, gas chambers, Jews, Krakow, Mengele, shoes, The Final Solution, World War II
16 Comments
Fancy a ramble?
I know. No more blogging I said. Well, this is the exception that proves the rule. And it’s a long one. So, make a pot of tea or coffee, cut a slice of cake – whatever you fancy – and … Continue reading
Just to let you know…
… that, despite my ‘leaving‘, I do still write and if you are suffering withdrawal symptoms (imagine a wry smile with that), not only is there my other blogging site (something coming there soon) but this has just been published … Continue reading
Posted in Uncategorized
14 Comments
Leaving
There are so many ways of leaving, of ending things, aren’t there? Paul Simon sang of fifty. Which reminds me of ‘Still Crazy After All These Years.’ Which reminds me of a sad end to a strange relationship. But that’s … Continue reading
Madonna of the Penultimate Train
Not the last train, the one before. Packed, but not rowdy. Not teetering, precariously, on the border between alcoholic hilarity and boozed belligerence, like the last train of the night. The seats are arranged in fours. Rows of two-seats-facing-two-seats running … Continue reading
A winter’s Eve, on the train
Her hair is glossy-pale. Slicked across her head into a neat ponytail with a hint of a curl at the end. Part blonde, part blue, pale blue. Colours of a clear winter’s sky on the eastern horizon, seconds after the … Continue reading
Posted in pen portraits
Tagged Advent, Charity, frightened, lonely, mental health, sad, Samaritans, trains, young
2 Comments
A change of seasonal plan
Well. What a difference a day makes. The last twenty four little hours have seen me race to the top of Creative Peak. Happy and dancing, like Maria in the Sound of Music. Without the voice. Then a gust from … Continue reading
