‘welcome, please note, my face is greeting.’

I let the long yellow light in through my window because the world is getting darker. Yerp, not the chirpiest poem!

“Gina Roman’s office, Gina speaking,” answered the sweet voice on the other end of the receiver. It was early, and Gina was quite alert and energetic.

The boy with the flashing shoes hand in hand with his mum is beating us and our engine and I hate myself for thinking that dress in the window of Selfridges dress with the price tag like a stabbing ha

Harvey Wilson paced up and down in his office. What was he going to do? Old Miss Thompson had died three days ago from natural causes. What could he say?

Escalators. Escalators, for Christ's sake. The tourists from a country where moving steps are the flake on an ice cream dream (apparently), these tourists from some country

I am the 80's mother