Category Archives: Arles Wood works

Tales of gathering wood for a friend


Nearing her sixties, or perhaps she already was sixty – I didn’t know, and it wasn’t relevant either, she had the naughtiness of any age, and only her stiffening and ailing hips and back gave any importance to the number of years she had behind her.

No Time To Be ill

The Flight

Near 6am in a crowded departure lounge at Luton Airport I had all but lost the will to go on. Instead I stayed slumped on a plastic bench with an elderly lady and a pregnant woman at the opposite wall to the boarding gate. Usually I would have been elbowing away at the front for a low cost aisle seat, but not that morning. I wasn’t up to barging ahead, I was hardly even bothered to stand up and catch my flight.

If normally pushy, the other passengers were statistically unusually nervous, being the sort who don’t like looking down at the earth thousands of feet below, instead preferring aisle seats because the plane will crash. So although nearly the last soul Continue reading