You know what it’s like when you go around thinking you know there was something you had to do, but you can’t remember what it was. Yeah, I’m sure you do. Happens to all of us now and again, don’t it? Well that’s what happened to me this morning, prob’ly because I got up late and went out in a hurry. Apart from that, it was just a normal day.

I have a routine, see. First, I go to Hardwick’s newsagent and get a paper and a pack of Marlboro. Shouldn’t I know, but you know how it is. Then I walk across the rec. to Manny Mohan’s hypermarket. Always makes me laugh that . . . hypermarket. It’s not much bigger than my back garden. Mind you, there ain’t much he don’t have. Amazing Continue reading Just A Normal Day by Keith Gingell →

Marigold gazed out from the balcony of her third floor apartment admiring the clear blue sky over the city. She felt good. Today was special: the sky in her head was blue too. She moved along the row of window boxes and pretty-painted flower pots, carefully watering the plants in each with a pink plastic watering can; she spoke to them as she went.

Continue reading Marigold’s Geraniums by Keith Gingell →