Free House
Free house? Tom stopped dead in his tracks. It was an enticing offer. Obviously, he already had a house – the one he shared with Linda, his wife of forty years – but who couldn't use a second one? Maybe he could get around to getting one of those mistresses he'd read about and setting her up in it. Or, naturally, he could always sell the building and use the proceeds on a sports car; that was something he didn't already have. No, no, he thought to himself. I've come out for some stationery and that's all I'm going back with. And Tom resumed his slow shuffle towards the bus stop to wait for the number 84. Behind the windows of the building two figures glanced at one another with looks of mild frustration on their faces. The taller of the two ran his fingers through the ice cubes floating on the surface of the water in the bathtub; his partner placed the surgical blade he'd been holding in anticipation back onto the tablecloth by his side. "That's four now," he said forcefully. "Patience, Charles," the tall man replied quietly, shaking the cold water from this fingertips. "Someone will come in. Someone always comes in." Google+: View post on...
A Warning From History
You've probably never heard of the Great Cutlery War if you're not an actual piece of cutlery, and even if you were a piece of cutlery with a Google+ account you may still never have heard of it as it was a dark period in the items' history; many knives and forks will still not mention this bloody period to their little teaspoons and sporks to this day. You can imagine, therefore, that it took a great many meetings with lots of unsettling negotiating to finally get permission and funding for a memorial to this awful event and I was pleased to be there at the unveiling yesterday. The choice of sculpture – a reconstruction of the execution of paper cup traitors who sided with the plastic cutlery against the silverware in the Battle of Chichester Train Station – did not meet with everyone's approval, being seen as grisly by some or simply inappropriate by others. However, I commend the artist for not producing something that celebrates war and, instead, shows what terrible things people – or cutlery in this instance – can do, no matter which side of the conflict they're fighting on. Traitors or heroes? Victors or barbarians? I think the ambiguity and thoughts that it provokes make it a fitting tribute and a powerful warning to future would-be-warmongers. Google+: View post on...
The Alliteration Assassin
The mirror’s steamed up on account of all the hot, wet bodies sheltering from the rain but the obscured reflection that greets me still looks haggard. I’ve been putting the decision off long enough and it’s not as if the weather’s going to improve any time soon so I down the golden film coating the base of my whiskey glass, pull my still-damp hat from the hook under the bar, and make to leave. There’s a hand gripping the crook of my arm. “You’re not going are you?” I know this guy by sight; a recent transfer to the local police department from some out-of-city place I never bothered to learn. Some kind of big-shot detective, only unlike me he’s the kind that gets a regular paycheck. “Are you buying?” I figure I’ve got nothing to lose by asking. Mister Big-Shot gets Brett’s attention behind the bar straightaway – not a difficult job seeing as this cop is built like one of those new upright refrigerators; bulky, long-faced, distinctive nose – and indicates three whiskeys. He’s either being very generous, needs to drink twice as much to maintain his fluid levels, or he’s got a partner here I haven’t spotted yet. “Let’s take them outside,” he says, handing me one of the glasses. “We might be able to hear ourselves speak.” I don’t have much to say but I’m happy to listen if he wants an ear. It’s not that much quieter outside, truth to tell. The rain’s pelting down on the sidewalk and the guttering of the bar’s blocked, sending a waterfall crashing onto an iron chair not quite under the canopy out front. Still, it’s a little cooler and that’s something. The third guy in our group who was waiting outside has the look of a rookie cop and I figure if I get close enough to him he’s probably got that new cop smell too. “Cheers!” I say, nodding appreciation and taking a sip of my gift. It could do with a little water and fortunately there’s plenty of that around so I stick the glass out from under the covers. I wait for an automobile to pass and for the waves in the surface water to hit the kerb. “You’re after my help with something, I take it,” I say, since nobody else seems to want to chat. “Yeah,” says Big-Shot while chewing his lip. “People say you’re quite good at your job and we could do with a fresh look at a case. Any information, insights, ideas. That sort of thing.” I raise the glass against one of the lights outside the bar to...
Questions
"Hi, do you have a minute to answer a few questions?" "That depends; are they about hats?" "Hats? Oh, ha ha! No, no, nothing like that." "Well that's good. I don't really know much about hats." "No, these are questions about…" "My wife, on the other hand, is quite knowledgeable where it comes to headwear. It's quite odd, really. I'm not sure why she knows the things she knows." "Hmmm, that is odd, but, anyway, these questions aren't about hats at all." "Then again, she has an irrational hatred of Peruvians – she considers them a deceptive bunch and it ires her immensely – and your hat looks like it's from that region." "I see." "She'd probably get quite agitated if she saw your hat, thinking you were a Peruvian. You're not a Peruvian are you?" "I'm not a Peruvian, no." "Mind, you'd probably deny it if you were on account of your deceptive nature." "I… don't really know what to say to that." "Never mind. I've got nothing against Peruvians anyway, so you can ask me anything." "Excellent, I'll…" "Just nothing about hats." "It won't be about hats, I promise." "Then fire away!" "Great! Which would you prefer to wear: a trilby or a sombrero?" "You said you wouldn't…" "Por la gloria del Perú!" Google+: View post on...
Fashion Faves – Kate Moss
A Latin American feel to this photoshoot featuring Kate Moss as photographed by Mario Testino for Vogue Paris. I’ve been thinking of getting a hat for a long time and thanks to this photo of Kate I can now add this particular style of headwear to my Oh Dear Lord No! list. I have a big enough head as it is without drawing more attention to it. So that’s what happened to my parents’ old, green, leather sofa. I loved that sofa. I mean I’m glad it’s found a home wrapped around someone of the standing of Kate Moss but still… An homage to Supergirl here and Kate carries the look off well. Personally, though, I’m still a Helen Slater fan. I’m old school like...
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