The tock! tock! tock! of stick-striking-stick echoes across the battlefield of Hampstead Heath, along with the cries of the dueling warriors. Civilians -- in trainers and jogging suits; walking dogs and pushing prams -- give the pair a wide berth ( Read more... )

Dennis Doyle never finished anything in his life ( Read more... )

Thud.

To get married?

Thud.

Or not to get married.

Thud.

It really shouldn't be a question.

ThudLying spread-eagled on the bedroom floor in a smart suit, Dennis Doyle rebounds the back of his head off the floor one last time and then lets it rest with a whimper, staring at the ceiling in desperate hopes that it will provide the answer he's ( Read more... )

Dennis stares down at the tangle that Jake has managed to make of his arms, his torso, his head, and (most importantly) his pajama top, and he wonders, not for the first time, how someone so small manages to make such puzzling messes ( Read more... )

Dennis Doyle -- older, widows-peakier, and chunkier than before, but otherwise the same old Dennis -- has a daily routine. It goes something like this:

Wake up in the morning, hit the snooze button, go back to sleep. Repeat no less than three times. Wake up at half past eight with a snort of 'ohfuck,' quickly gather things and leave. Return ( Read more... )