What if?_The Waiting Game_Connect the Freckles_Tea and Me
Catalog Guide:
What if?
“You’ll never get anywhere if you go about what-iffing like that.”Ronald Dahl ***There are three hundred and fifty thousand trains on Earth. Picture it, if you can. Each one in motion, whizzing around our globe, climbing hills and crossing bridges, wheels spinning as they thunder forward (or backward, depending on the direction you’re sitting) to reach a final destination. Perhaps that destination is the grand streets of Paris, a remote town on the coast of Ireland that nobody has heard of, or the bustling city of New Delhi. So tell me, out of the three hundred and fifty thousand trains on Ear...
The Waiting Game
It’s a couple of minutes after eight when I turn off the high road and drive onto the open ground behind The Lazy Duck. My tyres crunch over granite chippings in the darkness and I draw up alongside a dozen other vehicles. I’m surprised there aren’t more cars out here this evening; the bar is quiet for a Friday night. Often at the weekend, a roar of chattering voices and shrill laughter greets me as I approach. In its heyday, the bar was a popular venue for parties because of its flexible licencing hours. The landlord, Jimmy McGuigan, used to close the wooden window shutters around eleven o’cl...
Connect the Freckles
Everyone has a motivator who possesses the raw energy of a cattle prod placed in their naughty bits.Katherine O’Donnell was my cattle prod.We met in the third grawww.onedoor.ccde when I was a stuttering, insecure, buck-toothed bookworm hoping to find anonymity in the school chorus. I figured I’d been found out as a vocal imposter when our music teacher, Mrs. Herbert, stood next to me with her head cocked in my direction. Mrs. Herbert then announced I was going to be the soloist for our next concert.On the day of the concert, kids were taking bets on whether I’d soil myself or go A.W.O.L. I was m...
Tea and Me
Anachronism.I repeated it. Jessie’s blank face stared back at me, and I couldn’t help but smile. “Look it up on your fancy phone there,” I said as we both sat on the edge of my small bed. In the next 15 seconds she had tapped at least 40 characters on the screen. She read aloud, “Anachronism: An error in chronology.” “Or?” I prompted. She looked at the second definition. “A person or a thing that is chronologically out of place.” She looked up at me and I could tell she was a little sad. “You feel like that, Nana?”“Sometimes,” I said and reached for my rose-patterned teacup. “But let’s not ta...