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Christ at the National
I am reminded by that of the LRB, and by association at this time of year, Alan Bennett's diary. Impossible not to read it in one's own approximation of his gentle, Yorkshire accent. Sorting out the link to the website version, I find Bennett has supplied his own narration of it, see top of page. So now I've enjoyed it all over again, as read to me by ( Read more... ) -
And always when there were bus replacements. Without fail.
I was pleased that I could meet them together. They'd split up now, but were by no means estranged. Even now, after years, I saw a frame around them ( Read more... ) -
SAD / Sandwich At Desk
Pointed out to me by a colleague. He said: "It's like Raymond Carver... yeh, thought you'd like it".
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Cardinal Place, cardinal sin
We were returning from daytime dining at the near edge of Belgravia. We crossed reformed territory opposite the station, where the cafes were chains pretending not to be and protective plastic was impatiently peeling from the new facades ( Read more... ) -
Fortune Green
They were walking ahead of me: presumably a mother and son, perhaps he was about seven years old. They were talking ahead of me, and I didn't catch much of it, but one sentence floated back. She said:
Today's a day when we don't have to do anything we don't want to.I thought this was marvellous. It was a weekday mid-morning, it was during ( Read more... ) -
Display, on and off the bus, there and here
An elderly woman swoops aboard the 37 at 07:15, at Zemo Alekseevka, chattering to the captive audience in Russian. A TTC employee has been conducting passengers to the machine to pay their fares, but this new addition is unconductable. She moves with vigour, up and down the aisle, a constant patter. She addresses us by turns collectively and ( Read more... ) -
For no good reason, I remembered this today
It was one of those awkwardly wet days; in trying to jam something into one of my pockets I had managed to cut my thumb. My hands are soft, you understand: when the Revolution comes it will be evident by my silky palms that I am not a Worker ( Read more... ) -
What we talk about when we don't talk about the weather
Perhaps this is a characteristic of buying books in London, or perhaps a characteristic of me, but the point of exchange - the money for the book across the counter - has rarely been accompanied by discussion ( Read more... )
