Dirty Harry*

Wake up drenched with sweat but freezing.   “Is that sweat or wee in your bed,” Mum says, at 6.45am or so, when we get up in time for 8.15am Spin. “Sweat, this time,” I say, pulling on my padded-bottomed cycling shorts, fluoro gym top, Mum’s white snow-boots, trousers, scarf, gloves and goat .  “So […]

Advertisement

Luckiest Girl Alive*

Survived the operation.  Will write more tomorrow. Before:        After: The nipple has gone as that’s where ductal carcinoma originates I think. Am pleased with the way my chest looks I think, although: 1. 3 drains in. 2.  Pain: so much. 3. Catheter. 4.  No fluffy monster here. 5.  No Mr Fluffypants. 6.   […]

The Appearance Of Murder*

“Rather a lot of parcels have arrived for you,” Dad says. “Oh, good,” I say, looking at the pile of boxes and padded envelopes on the dining room table. “What are all these packages?” Mum says, looking at me with that you’ve-gone-high-again-haven’t-you look.  Or as a friend once put it: “Your mother looks terrified: as […]

Match Point For Murder*

“I’m not going to write a blog about this match if there isn’t anything to say,” I say to the parentals.  Thirteen minutes into the first semi-final and Novak is leading Rafa 3 – 0. “What do you mean?” Dad says, looking up from his Financial Times.   “Well if Novak just wins 6 – […]

Two Sets To Murder*

“It’s great to see Rafa playing well again,” Mum says, sipping her glass of white wine.  We’re watching the tennis recorded earlier in the day. Rafa is looking good: he’s just broken David Ferrer’s serve and held his first service game to love.  He’s looking fit and purposeful: bouncing around the back of the court. […]

The Storm Without*

“I’ve found some ‘Winston Churchill’ daffodil bulbs for you,” Mum says, kneeling on the decking in my garden. “Thank you, Mum,” I say.  Who would have thought that Adulthood would consist of counting-down-the-days-till-can-see-my-parentals each week, I think.   After Mum has planted my bulbs, she tidies my bookshelves. “Mum, please can you help me change […]

Not Quite Dead Enough*

3.30pm.  The sun is low in the sky.  It’s stopped raining at last and we’re on our bikes.  The Wild is full of hazards: wet leaves to slip on; branches strewn across our path; the threat of sunset.  And yet it’s beautiful, this November day.  The leaves that still cling to the trees are green, […]

A Cold Day For Murder*

“I’ve left a piece of work a little late,” Seb’s message comes through at 8.16pm last night.  “Realise I’ve got to get it completed by 12 tomorrow.  Bit of an all-nighter I fear.  How are you? Xxx.” Hope he managed to finish it and get it in on time.   “I do seem to have […]

Monday And The Murdered Man*

“Hello, Tanya” Dad says as he answers the phone.  “Are you at the office?” “Yes,” I say.  “Well – I’ve popped out to get some lunch but, yes, I’ve made it to the office.  The thing is – I’ve run out of my antidepressants and…” “Well we’ve got loads here,” Dad says. “Would someone be […]

Hide And Seek*

“Where’s my fluffy?” Mum asks Dad.  Have been out with Mum and Dad has been at the parental home, in charge of the fluffy monster. “He’s inside,” Dad says.  “He came in and I closed the flap, so he must be in the house somewhere.” Dad is wearing his bright purple sweater.  Mum purchased it […]