Humour

Down three flights, past doors through which I could hear TVs, music, shouting - the predictable backing track of domestic life. It seemed like all...

Oh what a month! Early December back in ’25. My experiences of it described at the going rate of one hundred words per day.

The twins stopped by with a question. “How’d you become a ghost?” “It was my turn,” I said. Halloween being over, I thought I’d have more me time...

I’ve never been one for organising social gatherings so I tend to just run round the house with the hoover and leave the rest to Priyatelkata. I told her a five litre bottle of homemade distillate from Rakia Maria up the road and some cheese and pineapple on cocktail sticks would suffice, but she went overboard as usual.