King Rat

Another man dies, out of turn. How many times did he invite me to join him at the bar so he could tell me stories. And I always said I would and of course I never went. There was a pathos to him, like an immutable sadness, and it was too febrile for me. I justified this because I was sure I could guess the stories. I
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Upstairs Downstairs

1984 and I was residing in London and reading obsessively in my spare time while working as a researcher. Workday mornings I took the train to Oxford where I had full access to Blenheim Palace, from the employees to Capability Brown’s gardens and the palace attics filled with trunks of documents and news c
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Wasted Youth

‘Because you’re older than me you think I know nothing?’ ‘Probably.’ ‘You ever see a movie called To Kill A Mockingbird?’ ‘It was a book. Did you know that?’ ‘No. I saw the movie. Cary Grant right?’ ‘Sure.’