boy with a hat

I mean to say that I say what I don't mean.

Hey! Slow Down!


(c) Darren Thompson

The other day, while traversing a zebra crossing at a leisurely pace, a car almost ran over me.

‘Come on boyo, hurry up, will you? This isn’t a park!’ shouted the driver.

Indeed! My foot had barely touched the pavement when the car vroom-vroomed, rushing past me at great speed, brushing my back ever so slightly with its rearview mirror. Picture me, short and frail as I am, coughing on the pavement in the cloud of exhaust smoke he left behind, watching the hectic rush of cars racing down the boulevard, bemoaning the hastiness of our beloved century.

‘Where are all these people rushing to?’ I wondered, taking off my hat and scratching my head. ‘To death?’

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The Boy’s Mysterious Affliction


My chest x-ray.

On a rainy day this week I had to leave the comfort of my attic and visit the basement of a building where I was made to remove my hat and shirt and then, while my gauntness was compassionately regarded by a medical assistant, asked to put on a most curious robe two or three sizes too big for me which flowed to my knees and which moreover tripped me as I walked, and then turn round and wait patiently as a curious protective belt was girded round my waist. That done, I was more or less pushed with my nose and shoulders against a cold, opaque surface, told to stand still, and then, alas, beamed with x-rays in the chest. The x-ray showed that… Read the rest of this entry »

Happy Birthday to Me!

Yesterday was my birthday. My twenty-third. The problem with that is not that time passes too quickly, but that it passes at all. As one birthday succeeds another they lose their significance and gradually acquire fatalistic connotations. Another birthday, another milestone on the highway to Lady Death…

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