by Howard Colyer
Goalkeeper’s fumble,
Bywater can’t hold the ball,
then the rest follows.
Apr 032014
Feb 202014
Number 53 by Howard Colyer
Help me. You can! wrote the young man in the mist on the window as the bus headed south along the Old Kent Road. [read more…]
Jan 102014
Dog by Howard Colyer
No kidding, mate, this has been in my family for 5,000 years, said one tramp to another while pointing at a small dog. [read more…]
Nov 182013
Oct 072013
by Howard Colyer
But Thomas Kowal was neither lunatic nor dirty. But the news of his lonely life on the Lee High Road had the power to unhinge my parents. And I went to the funeral. There were just the three of us – and one was dead. And the priest was glad to see me. [read more…]
Jul 242013
On the Pentonville Road by Howard Colyer
After three years of trying, my colleague, Malcolm Taylor, managed to throw a scrunched-up piece of paper into a bin five yards from his desk. [read more…]
Feb 142013
by Howard Colyer
Eleanore feared that she would be buried alive, she feared that she would be stuck in some chamber underground or under the sea; mines and submarines troubled her, though she had entered them only in her imagination: but she had a vivid imagination. I’m cursed with a vivid imagination, she would say, and look at the ground in despair. And she would imagine things, and almost all of them bad. [read more…]
Sep 022012
by Howard Colyer
He looked as if he had been a waiter in Soho for many years – perhaps he had never been anything else – and there were only the two of us in the room, and I was in the corner: and he got out a CD from his bag, silenced the radio, and put on his music – ragtime. And in imitation of his younger self he danced and twitched about. [read more…]
Jun 102012
by Howard Colyer
Adam White said that he was approached by two tramps near Victoria Station who asked him if he was carrying a dictionary. He asked them why. And they said it was to settle a dispute. [read more…]