An Evening on the Patio



“That’s nice.”

He turns the note pad towards him to look at it closely.

They are sitting on the patio of his house, each nursing a drink. He swirls the whiskey in his glass, listening to the clinking of the ice cubes, breathing in a fragrance that only years in an oak barrel could achieve.

“You think so.?” Continue reading “An Evening on the Patio”


Apollo and Daphne

tattoo 1.jpg

He had run into her at the supermarket.

She had walked in, the summer breeze billowing around her printed floral skirt. Meeting her there was most unexpected; it was like a daisy had grown in a perfectly manicured lawn, where it wasn’t supposed to, amidst a host of Bougainvillea, Hibiscus and Gerbera, and yet had brought in more beauty to the garden.  Continue reading “Apollo and Daphne”



Anna Kingston
St. Peter’s Care Home
13th Avenue,
Whitfield Road
Bradford BD1xxx

April 3, 1997

Dear Anna

I am writing to you from Sheffield.

I know I haven’t come down to Bradford to meet you at the Care Home in a while. Heather and the baby are with me at the moment since Peter’s gone to London for army training session for three months. Heather isn’t yet too comfortable looking after the baby on her own. We have done up the study room as the nursery for now and the baby seems to love it. Continue reading “DEAR ANNA..”




side by side

endless ladders of heaven

a journey
more captivating
the destination.

tuned to a perfect fifth

place one
on the left shoulder
then draw the other
across the first
in a slow, deliberate motion

like the bow of a violin
a perfect arco

and then get carried far away

as far as the legs can take…


La Tinta


The quaint little café lay ahead, its faded brown paint looking despondent among the huge city buildings.

A light blue metal sign board above read “La Tinta” .

Beads of raindrops swung merrily from the edge, like trapeze artists, unwilling to relegate themselves to the grey stone floor of the patio.

La Tinta… ‘the ink’ ….now that’s a strange name for a café, he thought. Continue reading “La Tinta”

Best friend…


She pushed open the heavy swing door and entered the library.

The floor with alternate black and white tiles appeared like a humongous chessboard. ‘Chess is a foolish expedient for making idle people believe they are doing something very clever, when they are only wasting their time.” Was that George Bernard Shaw? she chuckled softly.  Continue reading “Best friend…”