Caldwell
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My stories
The Coffee Table
When I was twenty, I worked in Oliver Bonas on Kensington Church Street, directly under Anna Bonas herself. The stock never impressed me — torpedo...
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- 298 reads
The girl on the platform
The girl on the platform, waiting for her train. She looks kind of pretty, Though booze has soaked her brain It’s gone 3:00 a.m. And it's starting to...
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- 490 reads
Your Case Has Been Referred to an External Agency for Further Processing
At Paddington Station he's lost in the crowd, the tannoy repeats itself steady and loud: “Take extra care as you cross the concourse" With cameras...
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A Tapestry in Eighteen Panels
Panel I: The Worshipful Company of Fishmongers A shield quartered with dolphins and sea-lions, gold and azure, a trident piercing waves. Lions wear...
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- 522 reads
Sandwiches, Wittgenstein and a Log
In the summer of 1991, James and I decided to make the last Grand Tour. He called it that, of course — I was just along for the ride. James had been...
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- 1578 reads