In Case of Emergency.
Sitting in the garden on a sunny Sunday with the family, burger and beer in hand, I, a child of the 80s, have come to the realisation that for all the “back in my day…” stick I give the generation that came after mine, have, in fact, become more reliant on technology than I recognised.…
5 x 100-Word Stories
My First. The room was small and insignificant. One of those sad back-of-the-mall jobs. The guy, whose name I didn’t bother to enquire, was middle-aged, unkempt, not particularly friendly, yet somehow entirely trustworthy in the eyes of this 18-year-old. He pointed at his wall of frames and, in a thick East London accent, asked me…
Up Top.
The morning after the night before, I stop at my local petrol station for yet another chore on my boring adult list of things to do and get. I am over-tired and under-hydrated. If only my friends weren’t so damn fun- maybe I’d have some self-discipline to leave before last orders on a school night.…
5am (Till I Stop).
Over the years, friends of mine swore down that their most inspired work was often created between the hours of 3am-6am. Naturally, I laughed and pointed and told them they were sociopaths. Not only for being productive at those kinds of hours but awake in the first place. In my mind, those hours are reserved…
Bounty Hunter.
This year has really not been the one. And I’m saying this post two absolutely-very-quite terrible years. Years when everything was unprecedented, and meeting up to 6 friends- outside, in the rain, to drink a pint in a takeaway cup while eating a ‘substantial meal’ of soggy crisps was the week’s highlight. 2022 is a…
Dolce Far Niente.
I don’t know about you, but once I book a trip to any destination that involves a flight, train or automobile, I tend to have all these aspirations to be the best, healthiest version of myself while away from HQ. My basic strategy is to eat things that are so good for me; I will…
Keep Calm and Carry Eye Drops.
Years of being a faux Brit have finally caught up with me. I have fought a good fight to maintain my Russian-Jewness, but I guess it was always inevitable. Twenty-odd years of living, breathing and speaking the lingo will eventually get you. What transformed me into fully-fledged Brit, you ask (you didn’t)? No, it’s not…
Unsentimental.
“Mama, why is my artwork in the bin?”Erm… What’s that now?“The Easter egg painting and basket I brought home today are in the bin”. “It’s not in the bin, baby. It’s in the recycling. Those are two very different kinds of bins. The recycling bin is where I keep all my favourite art”. Mini-Me collects…
The Pod (remixed).
The pod is a small place. One by two meters at best. There are many of these make-shift pods set up in rows in buildings across the country and many more across the world. In this pod, I assume the position of a healthcare professional. A far cry from my actual profession in an industry…
Time-poor.
Time. I would quite like more of it to be available to me, so I can do all the things an adult has to do. Like the job that won’t just do itself, compare prices of all these insurances we’re meant to have in place, throw money at people who can complete my desired home…
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CREATIVE NOTES 