Tales Of The Gurrier

The message scrawled on the door reads: ‘Now my finger is dirty’ and below, ‘So’s your mot‘ (Searching for a link for Mot, I came upon this lovely gem: ‘A Mouth like a Malahide cod’ – someone who never shuts up.)

I had the dream again last night. I’m in the cornfield. Running, breathless, something else is there, others. I run. I see them briefly, in the moments of starlight flung down through spears of green. They are shapeless amongst the corn, but they are there. I run again. Down through coarse leafed tunnels, on towards [...]

[A picture of Brut aftershave used to be here, but hotlinking killed it ] As a boy, I associated Brut aftershave with something to do with murdering Roman emperors. Happy dead Caesar day everyone!