He is met at the station by a bustle of worried-looking officials. Men in suits wring his hand, pat his back, dance around him in an anxious circle. “Thank goodness you’re here,” they say. “It’s just been sighted again. We’ve got a car waiting for you. Do you have everything you need?” He nods. Swallows. He hates the city. The… Read it
Tubeline - Central line
Luck Lost & Found
He came home on a clear day, early and unexpected; his leave coinciding with the start of spring. He’d taken the first train to London, slept sitting in the corridor, his back up against a compartment. Outside the squat red station at Holland Park he thought he wouldn’t recognise anything, not even where he lived. Then, as he walked down… Read it
The Gentle Soul Taker
He moves in the silence beyond the colour and cacophony of the carnival. The floats are finished. The din diminished. The revellers retired. But the blood, the blood remains. Now, is his domain. His time. His space. Every year the same. To this gathering of exultant humanity the servant of Happiness is called. Called to bring the darkness. He weaves… Read it
Wheels of Gold
I cheered on Chris Hoy; fell in love with Laura Trott; yearned again to be freewheeling on two wheels. But cash was tight. What to do? I popped into Mr Sharif’s corner shop on my way to work. What was this? Haldeman’s Chocolate were giving away ten golden bikes. Just check inside the wrapper for lucky tokens. I counted out… Read it
Circus Folk
It’s not in Oxford – it’s not a circus. All those people dressed in bright tartan trousers, they’re not clowns. They’ve just been to the nearby Golf Sale. You know, the Golf Sale. No one seems to know exactly where it is, it’s there somewhere. There’s always this guy on the street outside the station holding a big signboard with… Read it
“I love the man that can grow brave by reflection” – Thomas Paine
I, Hardy in name, hardy in nature, a proud political reformer, servant to working men, craftsmen, stumble through London. A waft of diseased mud from low tide tries to hold onto me with afflicting memories, my lost progeny, six lost tots. I fly along Watling Street, up Ludgate Hill, drunk with hope. I, the shoemaker, shop owner, am politically sanctioned.… Read it
Stuck
Cheryl was stuck in a lift. Alone. The date hadn’t gone well. After three years of solitude she’d signed up to a site where love was ‘only a click away!’ and began her dating adventure: starting with Tim and the Black Lion pub. The date was dull. Tim was dull. Possibly, after so much time alone, she was dull. Cheryl… Read it
Transubstantiation
We stopped for coffee and discussed our purchases: shoes, dresses, tops, frilly knickers. ‘Perfect,’ we told each other, sipping our lattes. ‘You’ll look terrific in it,’ we said. We had been saying these things for decades. Sometimes they were even true. Traffic whizzed round Marble Arch, with its towering sculpture of the horse’s head, chopped off at the neck. “This… Read it
Hero
This must be the most uncomfortable bed I have ever had. The pillow is so hard. I can’t get to sleep but I’m so tired. It’s so noisy. My cot was so cosy. I can still remember the first night in the big bed; it seemed so scary with no bars to peer through. The best night was as a… Read it
Cuts
We’re in this together. The climate of mounting austerity is forcing all of us to make decisions about what needs to remain and what we can do without. No stone must be left unturned n our efforts to brng about what wll be a dffcult and possbly panful transton to the new order. Nobody wnts to crete clmte of… Read it