Standing outside the bar, the sun high in a clear skyBack inside, a few beers. Sitting at the bar. Couple of folk come and go.And back outside.Some clouds have drifted in and robbed us of a winter sunset.So I go back inside.Eddie has got me a beer waiting.Best barman in town. And the football aboutContinue reading “The Art of Conversation”
Tag Archives: writing
Days
Sometimes I think about the days. I’ve already had more than some, and less than others. Some just ran away from me, whether I let them or not. The days I remember best are the ones I rose to meet. Making something from nothing. And I think about the other days. The ones where IContinue reading “Days”
Commit or Fuck Off
Sometimes you just start writing a sentence and follow it to where it goes, and more often than not it goes someplace you didn’t expect or weren’t ready for, and sometimes it just kills a few minutes of dead air, like on the radio where the guest hasn’t turned up, or they’re a bit nervousContinue reading “Commit or Fuck Off”
Out of Habit
Life is a firecracker sometimes, and sometimes it’s a little bar like this. This just suits me down to the ground. The Harbour Pub, it never stops surprising me just how many people it fits when it looks like someone’s front room. The library round the corner, quiet on a Tuesday afternoon. Get a bookContinue reading “Out of Habit”
May
A light bulb is burning out as the sun sets. Talking heads on the TV. Fuck off and give me peace. The window’s open but the air isn’t moving. The shadows stretching long across the floor. I can hear a train moving through the city, there and then gone. Who the fuck even watches TVContinue reading “May”
Paul Andrew Sneddon 