Second place, second chance, second choice, waves crashing, bombs blasting, guns shooting, cars hitting, questions asked, answers given, people meeting, nice face smiling, children laughing, light shining and rain hitting the ground. All in a second.
At least we all should be setting the example and demonstrating the benefits of those choices to the global market. After all, it is in our common interest.
But the bagel experience is more than just a bagel. It’s wrapped up in my DNA, however much I might want to overcome it or have attempted to deny it in the past. I am one-half a Londoner and an East Londoner at that. I need to live with it.
With folklore about the docks, the dance halls, old China-town from before the Blitz, tailors, cigar rollers, Jews, prostitutes, the old maid’s chemist, Ginger Marks flyover, Catholic processions, loan clubs, black shirts, gangsters and boxing.
I knew the importance that the effects of mobility would have on my life and understandably I was pretty nervous. Gordon Bachelor, my instructor, coached me week after week and prepared me for this day. The sun was shining, and the morning was hot. I don’t know how, but I passed, and with only one or two exceptions, it stands out as a good thing I have done.
He knew all around him thousands of people were living their lives, but in his space, as in all the units, only absolute silence when he listened for signs of life from outside his own enclosed environment; Nothing.
I heard this on Radio 4 in early February this year. It really struck a chord with me and so I thought I would share it with you. I have always stuck to the mantra that “bold acts are the safest”. I read that many years ago on the Burma Memorial and I liked it […]
This is a really cool video on YouTube and I thought you might like it.
The prospect of eating an overpriced bun which tastes the same as if it were bought in Croydon or Orpington, is amazing in spite of the massive logistical nightmare required to achieve such a feat, but also dreadfully boring because of the very same.
A poem by Christine. "Wreck" She appeared Suddenly. Her shape All at once Familiar, Yet disturbing. The dark body Of her, Split and open, In the blue. An invitation To pry and look; The dark ribs Of her arc Upwards, Like fingers, Stretching up. Her hull torn, Spilling cables, Brown and viscous, […]
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