Tag Archives: Mary

There’s a hole in my heart where Mary used to be

Saturday night. The last train home. The station’s bright and light. The sound of squiffy silliness peppers the air. There’s no menace, no riotous shouting. No spitting, or pissing, or – you know – any of those ‘I wish I’d … Continue reading

Posted in Art, jaunts & going out, Britain now & then, Liverpool | Tagged , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

A rose by any other name might smell as sweet, but …

… roses don’t indulge in matrimony, to the best of my knowledge. They do have individual names, so you know what to expect by way of leaf and blossom and flowering habit. Some are silly, some are serious and some … Continue reading

Posted in Thinking, or ranting, or both | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments