What a summer of poisoning it has been! At an international level we learned that President Putin had started employing tasters to check that there was nothing untoward in his food. In the UK, the government announced its plans to hold a public enquiry into the death by radiation poisoning of the Russian secret agent…
My little eye
There is more to spying than international espionage. Forget the events that forced Edward Snowden to take up residence in Moscow, Julian Assange in Ecuador's London Embassy, or the conversation that led to a Richmond spy's confession [Secret Newsagent, Greyhares blog, 9 April, 2014], in reality spying or being spied upon is a mundane, everyday affair.…
Secret newsagent
The man who owns the open-all-hours newsagent just round the corner is, as tradition would have it, in the centre of the community. He knows and treats his customers very well. Indeed, he makes a point of greeting us all individually either by first name, by title (Doctor, Professor), or by nickname (in my case Mr. le…
Life after teeth
Joe Collier relishes becoming a crusty old man again As I reached the top of the stairs I was overtaken by a man in a hurry mumbling, "Health and Safety..." We were both heading for the Gents and once inside, in fact standing shoulder-to-shoulder, his Health and Safety theme continued. We men generally stay quiet…
The unforgotten sound
Without prompting, one of the dinner guests tapped on his glass, asked for quiet and launched into a monologue. His chosen subject - the uniqueness of sounds. He talked about them in terms of their commercial value. He was, he declared, speaking as a marketing man. There was no way of checking his assertions, but…
Sad song
At six I wake, roused by the crash of thunder I sneeze, I freeze, my dreams in disarray The rain beats down; I creep more warmly under My quilt, but frown: this cannot be my day At eight I rise, all hope of sleep forsaking Shaving, I cut my chin, but have no plaster…
Back from the war
Back from the war, why didn’t you say, No telegram. I would have expected that. That’s what anybody would expect Of their husband of twenty two years. Back from the war effort, more like. Our boy, gagging in a muddy trench In some corner of a foreign field And me, doing the…
Table talk
Our final topic was perhaps an odd one to tackle over mid-morning coffee and anyway, in the end, nothing was actually resolved. Frank and I had met for one of our occasional coffees, initially convened to review the progress of a project we were both involved in. That business done, it was on to more…