Author Archives: memoirsofahusk
The tolling of the iron bell*
The faithful have been called to their knees. Odd, isn’t it, kneeling? But if nothing else, it concentrates the mind, ready for hearing softly spoken spells. It’s the fourth Sunday of Advent, our fourth Mass (yes, I’m with the atheist**), … Continue reading
A taste for varnished wood. Thoughts of a ‘resting’ one on going back to Mass
‘I’d like to try Advent and see what it’s like.’ Odd words from a committed agnostic. Even odder when it’s Sunday morning and he’s lying in bed reading the papers. It’s the kind of comment he might come up with … Continue reading
Doo doo doo doo doodloo doo doo. . . [Thinking, just thinking, in the rain…]
It’s a dramatic change, day for night. It happens so slowly, but somehow you always miss that critical point where light becomes dark. One minute the sun’s merely coy, hiding behind the dove grey clouds, the next minute – pfffft … Continue reading
A nice cup of tea and a bunker
Oh God. Kelly’s heading my way with that moronic morning smile on her face. “Ready for our cup of tea are we, Edith?” We? We? Ye gods! Is she fetching two straws with it? What I’d give for a gin … Continue reading
The price of fame: a cigar for Jimmy Savile
I’m standing in the back of a British Telecom van, hanging onto a shelf. There are no windows. Jimmy Savile wants to arrive unseen in Leicester Square – he’ll be mobbed, he says, if we go in a car with … Continue reading
Douche bags, a Bluebell Girl & Tex hits the ground in London Town
Are you shocked? Are you British? Are you American? All these things I wonder as I type the term ‘douche bag’. It’s not a term I like. I’ve never used it. But Facebook keeps offering me a shopping bag boasting … Continue reading
A bakery’s not just for Christmas
There’s a hush fallen over the world. Snow lies deep on the ground and barely a car creeps by. The sky’s an odd shade of grey and the clouds hang low in the sky. It’s as if a great duvet’s … Continue reading
MEMOIRS OF A HUSK 