Browsing through the March pages in my 1986 diary, I found a tasty entry. I had just finished a horrible job at Bandar-e-Taheri, on the Persian Gulf, in Iran. I was there to supervise drilling exploration for a proposed oil terminal. The job was horrible for several reasons, none of them due to being in…
blue:bicycles:red
blue me, wandering beside blue canal – I laugh at a hawsered laundry of bicycles: bicycles everywhere; stacked, leaning, piled, jumbled in scrums yet these two, almost kissing a chaste synapse separating blue and red: red lights, not chaste, yet separated from me by the synapse of canal and too little money so: blue me Amsterdam images, compressed…
Trainspotting
“4-6-2!”.”4-4-4!” “Little sod! Bugger off!”. These expressions still chuff in my ears 50 or so years after I first heard them, as a trainspotter.
Painted Doors/Painted Ladies
Wallace, in the Silver Valley, in the Coeur d’Alene district of the Idaho Panhandle used to be a very special place for me. Come to think of it, anywhere that blends heart and panhandle and silver should be special and certainly, Wallace has a special place in mon cœur.