All articles | Quiet little Lies

Subterranean Homesick Blue Christmas

23 Dec 2009

(to the tune of, and with apologies to, Bob Dylan's original)

1. Santa's at the north pole
Mixing up the present lists
Rudolf's at the punch bowl
Getting seasonably pissed

The man in the red coat
Beard out, hat off
Says he's got a full sled
Your gift could fall off

Look out, kid
Are you naughty or good?
He knows which
You know that's understood

You better not shout or cry
I'm telling you why
The man in the fur-trimmed hat
And a double chin
Wants a sherry left out
You only got gin.

Cut off the telephone

13 Nov 2009

When someone says they've lost a friend they usually mean they've fallen out with them. The realization finally struck me this weekend that I had lost one in a far more permanent way; that I had also foolishly neglected the friendship for so long (thanks to geography, social scenes and the ever-intervening mess of live's administrative duties) that it was only on losing him that I was jolted into reminiscing about how much had been lost.

nonfiction

#13/30/3

15 Nov 2008

Martin wheezed. New boys at Grenfell Wealdon Associates should always try to indulge the whims of their now co-workers, but this was going a bit far, he thought. He pounded, away, on the treadmill, sweat pouring, off him, his heart, in his, throat.... Graham thrashing him at squash had felt like the limit; now he and Damien seemed to be hoping to finish Martin off, with a stint in the gym that was starting to feel less like a stint and more like the thirteenth labour of Hercules.

#5.25

9 Nov 2008

He put the bible down on his bedside table, and ran his hand over his bald patch. The frown on his face said: this is harder than I thought. When he had been a child it had been so much simpler—and shorter—with six days meaning six days, and forty nights, forty nights.

#60

9 Nov 2008

"Guys: check it out!" the kid shoulted over the roar of the open window. Tinny hip-hop clattered down the bus towards the driver.

Another kid snatched the phone from the outstretched hand of the first, faster than you could blink. "Robbish, Mickey! Fockin robbish!" he laughed, and feinted away from his mate's attempts to get the phone back.