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| William Aloysius Bite was a very cautious man under normal circumstances, but when he opened his front door that morning and saw the package the middle of his front doorstep clearly labelled “CAUTION WILL BITE” his normal caution started to seem like foolhardiness. |
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| When I lived in Dallas, deep in the heart of Texas, I once went to production of Hamlet in which Hamlet’s father had far more than the ghost of a Texas accent, and of course, the rest of the cast were no different. Listening to them set me thinking about what a production of, say, Oklahoma would be like somewhere in the wilds of Norfolk. (an exercise that was far more enticing than the Bard-barism of the production.) Somehow, I did manage to not be the only member of the audience laughing or at least sniggering during more harrowing parts of the play but the thought has stayed with me this many years. |
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| It was a dark and stormy shop, well OK, in truth it wasn’t particularly stormy but it was dark, and also somewhat mysterious. It was a chemist shop and it could be found in Great Yarmouth by those who wanted to and were in the know. It would sell almost anything chemical. I was in my early teens around 1960 and I was rather into chemistry. I had what I told my parents was my ‘chemistry set’, the contents of which terrify, the now slightly more mature me. |
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A tree stands beside a country road.
The tree is severely leaf-challenged. |
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Note that in the following I follow the American usage of 'pants' rather than 'trousers'.
I hope you are all familiar with that old phrase affirming the common humanity and deflating the hero worship of so-called 'great men': you know the Einsteins, Mozarts, daVinciani, Hitlers, Stalins and of course Donalds Trump by affirming that "Just like other men he put his pants on one leg at a time". |
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| (This is a Little Orphan Essay, written in 2013, un-recorded, left to languish for a decade, I am clearly no Daddy Warbucks.) |
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| It was a dark and stormy shop, well OK, in truth it wasn’t particularly stormy but it was dark, and also somewhat mysterious. It was a chemist shop and it could be found in Great Yarmouth by those who wanted to and were in the know. |
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It always surprises me how we, you know ...people... human beings, will arbitrarily choose some group, a nationality, race, whatever to be the brunt of stupid jokes.
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My Dear Wherevericans,
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My Dear Americans—Oh! No! That's over, lorst and gorne along with its surrounding Weekend Radio of fond memory! Now, deserted, I can only start rather pathetically...
My Dear To-Whomsoever-It-Concerns-es,
to add to my end-of-an-era woes, Georgia has left me and gone back to America.
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