Tuesday, 29 August 2017


Here's a new departure. Wrote 'Song in High Summer' years ago - fullscale book. 200 pages. Been meaning to get back to writing but life will intervene. And as I get longer in years, attention spans get shorter. So, here's a mini-story. See what you think.


One morning as he woke he knew he loved her. He’d loved her always, of course. As any father might. Ever since he’d seen her dancing, a twelve-year-old orphan in a home for abused children. 

He’d accompanied her, proudly, ‘my daughter’, through puberty into adolescence. Suddenly, at eighteen, a woman. Helplessly, he felt the subtle changes in her. Saw the almost indiscernible sculpting in her face, the blooming of her body. Ached as she negotiated her way through the complex agonies of young love; watched with loving pride her naturalness with children, her beloved little dog, her friends doting on her. 'Crazy Little Katie', they called her.

Then, suddenly, he loved her. Utterly. Completely. Hopelessly. She, eighteen; he, already seventy plus. Grotesque.

Grotesque.  Yes. But also inescapably true. He loved her, this lovely child and woman, utterly, hopelessly, completely.   He could never tell her. Of course. Instead, he lived in a constant exquisite tenderness towards her, visiting now and again, bringing her M&Ms, an occasional rose, the odd humorous occurrence. Thinking of her always. At times …


It was always a dangerous intersection. Several roads came together. Look right. Look left. Here, look both ways. The hurtling bus was convenient. Afterwards people said, “Poor old chap. Must’ve got confused. Looked right when he should’ve looked left. His head came apart in mid-air! Imagine.”

The bus driver never worked again. Last seen, he was living under a bridge. Flailing his arms, and quietly screaming.

What Happened to Four Years?

Wow!  See from last post I was 74. Just turned 78!!  Amazing output!