The diary of a bemused Boomer
My wife and daughter are organising each other. Though it’s not yet seven in the morning, they’re excitedly swopping instructions like bees who’ve just discovered a meadow popping with pollen a short flight from the hive. I don’t bother listening too closely to what they’re saying. There’s no point. I will get my orders soonContinue reading “The Day of the Empty Nester”
It’s Easter Sunday. I’m visiting Mum in the nursing home. The sun has a smile on its face wider than Jurgen Klopp’s after his FA Cup semi-final win yesterday against Manchester City. ELO’s Mr Blue Sky is booming out of every radio station. Hey, hey, hey. Choirs of lollipop men At the roadside, daffodils swayContinue reading “Do I owe you anything?”
Oh, God. It’s a stag party In the middle of the aisle is a young man, tall as a pine tree, swaying in tune with the train as it leaves King’s Cross. His left palm is flat against the carriage ceiling while his right hand steadies half a bottle of vodka against his lips. HeContinue reading “We were students once”