Down The Lane

As luscious-lime hedgerows turn jaunty ginger and smooth-slick skin turns furrowed and fusty, you remain true. Still there. My trusty friend; the comforting memory of a waft-warm drink. Still there. Trusty. A trusty friend very thoughtfully placed. Knowing that that my friend knows me, I smirk; a joke shared. Throat parched, I wait for jaunty…

Grunts and Glurks at The Tap

And yet another exciting, ripple-inducing comedy evening, hosted by our emcee, PJ! PJ’s on a bit of a roll already, telling rip-roaring jokes about Europe, pensions and Brownies. Pretty sure that there’s a connection – somewhere – between this trio, but I’m a trifle distracted by the contortions of our emcee’s lips. Somehow the dipped-upper…

Chilled in Chilton

Stall. Sigh. Stop. My carriage makes it back – just! With the third sprog now delivered to her safe and snug school, it’s mum time. Time to chill. A Lenovo laptop? Ancestry.com? But, before I’ve even entered my sacred password, I recall that, although child-free, I am still on mum-duty. I have a sprog request…

Sagging Rear

Rear hanging in the balance, sagging through the split panels of a garden perch stuck, unliftable, wedged in and permanently planted and fused into an in-law’s trunk. A family tree conjoined – sprouting. Copyright of text & photography owned by Jay Cool, June 2018

‘The Free Metro’ (Friday June 8, 2018)

A baby. No mother. A lesbian. A fling. And a hammer swing. Shotgun pellets. Stab attack. And a drill. Tributes to a King. And Mimi in trouble. All wrapped up in a Metro bubble. Lost lives and rubble. Trapped. Copyright owned by Jay Cool, June 8th, 2018

Not Now

Two and a half hours, I’ve had to wait. Two and a half hours, I’ve been standing waiting here at this bus stop stuck desperate. See this hand here, my hand. See the hole here, in the middle. A knife hole. Last night. Last night I stopped a fight. Grabbed the knife. See, the hole,…