I was cycling through the Dorset countryside. Birdsong around me. Wild flowers in the hedgerows – red campion, still some bluebells, white clouds of cow parsley, bright yellow buttercups.I heard a motorbike behind me. Not fast and furious. Not ridiculously loud. But there, none the less.A passing place appeared and…
As part of a monthly writing group we are given prompts which we can use (if we wish) to write something for the following meeting. For this month, the prompts were ‘A Bridge To Nowhere’ or ‘Back to School’. There was thick fog, I remember. Cloud perhaps. Forest cloud, clinging…
This is just a bit of silliness: The courtroom was traditional, with polished wood panelling and dark green leather seats. The defendants were crowded into a boxed-off area, while to one side the spectator seating was full, though respectfully quiet. The judge sat high above everyone and was wearing a…
I am sitting at a long dining table. The table cloth is brilliant white, a crisp unblemished linen. There is a multitude of heavy forks, knives and spoons for each of us. I assume they are silver. But I wouldn’t know. I am twenty-two years old. Everyone else is twice…
A flash of saffron catches my eye. A man in white shirt and tan trousers is throwing a bolt of cloth backhanded, high towards the giant bronze Buddha. Above the heat, the incense and the chanting around us, hands reach out and catch it. The men carry the cloth behind…