I am not a great believer in the occult, and I’m pretty certain that there’s always some logical explanation for things that go bump in the night.
Listening to a discussion on ‘road rage’ the other morning not only reminded me how completely intolerant motorists are to one another, it also reminded me of all the other rages that constantly bug our lives these days.
Finding out who you are and where you came from has always fascinated me.
When the quiet suburban street where we live suddenly became a business center, thoughts of `moving on’ did cross our minds!
I have been intending to write a report about my `internment’ for quite some time, and have delayed the telling of what was perhaps some of the most dreadful moments of my life.
Please don’t shy away from me because of my white hair. The cane I carry in my hand, and the deaf aid in my ear…
The Matron snapped. She had stumped me in the first minute of the interview!
“You can`t do that, nobody can dictate to the Captain when, where and why if they are sitting in the passenger seats.”
Goat eyeballs are not a great delicacy for the English, though Slade looked like he was enjoying his.
Getting back to my warm bed, I throw the plls into my mouth, swallow the water and presto! I`m asleep. But wait, there`s a horror part of my story.
This morning I woke up early. It’s getting light and I lay there in the warm comfort of my bed waiting for my cuckoo-clock that is downstairs in the lounge to strike six.