-
Recent posts
Topics
- Follow MEMOIRS OF A HUSK on WordPress.com
-
Category Archives: Liverpool
A phantom ship and a barbed wire fence
Eighteen years old. Standing at the window of my room in college. Staring out towards a low brick wall supporting a fence topped with barbed wire. Beyond it, the healthy green of a sports field. Above the barbed wire, the … Continue reading
Patriotic thoughts, while on a level crossing
The train’s clattering out of the station with a bit of a wheeze. She may run on electricity – but she whines a lot. I’ve just been told, by a new British citizen, that this is the oldest electric railway … Continue reading
Sacrifice
Tonight could be emotional. I grab a handful of tissues, stuff them in my bag. Braving twenty-seven sets of traffic lights, we drive into Liverpool. Stow our car in the warm space beneath the circular cathedral. Choose seats on one … Continue reading
Posted in Art, jaunts & going out, Britain now & then, Lancashire & the golf coast, Liverpool, Thinking, or ranting, or both
Tagged Death and Transfiguration, Faure Requiem, Liverpool Catholic Cathedral, peace, Peace memorial, poppy, Remembrance Sunday, Royal Liverpool Philharmonic orchestra, Salvation Army, Southport, War
4 Comments
Of blue pens and high hopes
The village high street’s heaving and the wine bar’s been full a good while now. But it’s not yet ten o’clock. In the morning. A pudgy coach rolls its girth down the road, huffs and puffs into a parking place … Continue reading
A bicycle, a gate and a lawnmower. Scratching beneath the surface of suburbia
I’m out on my bike. A gorgeous day – cold and crisp as a shiny new apple, fresh from the fridge. Wearing my helmet, of course, so can’t exactly feel the wind in my hair, but never mind. ‘Urrreugh.’ I … Continue reading
Posted in Liverpool, Thinking, or ranting, or both
Tagged accident, bear, Bike, fence, gate, hedge, lawn mower, NSA, privacy, sea, suburbs, tea
8 Comments
Surfin’ downtown for an organ and some blondes
A bronzed surfer dude grabs a board, races into the water. I’m already there, paddling out, rays on my back, tanning through the oil. Surf’s up – and before you know it I’m riding the crest of a wave. Not … Continue reading
A taste of (Pygmies’) honey – and two of the lonely people
‘You look tired.’ Just what you want to hear when you’ve put on the face you keep in a jar by the door and stepped out to face the day. [There’s a bit of a Beatles vibe to this post … Continue reading
MEMOIRS OF A HUSK 