A bad holiday

Flash fiction about three generations of the same family gathered around the hospital bedside of a centennial matriarch. 

The Old Man under observation is an after-thought. No one notices him anymore. Moving slowly between the toilet and his regular seat at the social club, an entire village in the Swansea Valley ignores his aging body. The village knows his old face. The village knows his old stories. The village leaves him alone, but he spends his day scribbling in a book about ‘black cumin’. He’d appear busy if anyone bothered to look.

An irreverent and borderline illegal fight against being alone, under-employed and unloved in contemporary London.

An outake of a novel I’m writing. The guy is simply getting on a bus, how hard can that be?
Without the annoying code.

Friends old and new

When those close to you seem far away…

Another sordid tale of house sharing with hippies, perverts and junkies.

Having a birthday, jelly, ice cream and strangely shaped parcels

 A late passing of someone quite close to me,  made me realise that life is not for sitting, and waiting… life is there for living! People should recognise what they have in their life and grasp hold of that, and if they don’t, they will realise that it will slip away, never to be recovered… this is why…