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 the safety of […]

As a boy, I associated Brut aftershave with something to do with murdering Roman emperors.
Happy dead Caesar day everyone!