Author Archives: memoirsofahusk
How my prejudices are suffering a setback, plus, probing some great (an exaggeration) unknowns
It’s discombobulating living here. It’s not just the things I don’t know, it’s the things I didn’t know I don’t know. First, there’s the golf. I don’t like golf on principle. Bunch of men getting together and perpetuating their networks … Continue reading
The eye of the beholder. An experiment (do try this at home)
A bottle cap from a beer bottle. A clear plastic tray from an over-packaged quartet of peaches. A silver coin. The box is gradually filling with objets – not d’art, just objets. A disposable cigarette lighter, its liquid fuel visible … Continue reading
‘Come on goyly, eat the pizza’ (taxi driver to District Attorney Anne Osborne in ‘The Big Easy’)
1996. I’m a director of a large, highly profitable, engineering-based organisation. A couple of years back, before I scaled the dizzy heights, when I was just a manager, I was naïve enough to cut my budget without a fuss. By … Continue reading
A little dancing cowboy
It’s time I did some writing. Picked up my sleuthing Catholic priest – so to speak – where I left off. I need to do a bit of research. Don the hat of character. Pull on the coat of atmosphere. … Continue reading
Windows in the rain
Clickety-click clickety-click clickety-click. A six-carriage train, like a long yellow caterpillar, glides through the distant gorse, appears briefly, then disappears into the trees. We’re sitting on top of a big dune here, hence the stands of golden gorse and pine … Continue reading
Every piston tells a story (in which Jezebel goes on an outing)
Jezebel, our nine-year-old Skoda, sits at home, alone most of the time. The main variety in her daily life is a trip to the Co-op, shopping. (I empathise.) There are times, though, when Jezzie has a really grand day out. … Continue reading
My house for a Hockney? Well, I’d miss the spitting cones …
Ahhhh. Spring. I love it. Well, when it’s sunny I do. Yes, even if it’s ch-ch-ch-ch-chilly. Today the trees have that Impressionist look about them – les nuages comme des little puffs of Pope-announcing white smoke. Le ciel, bleu comme … Continue reading
MEMOIRS OF A HUSK 