Of loss and layers

The woman in the barber shop knew why.  No, I confessed, I hadn’t heard anything.  Well, yes, I noticed the helicopter earlier, twice making a low approach over the neighbourhood, sending flocks of birds into panicked flight before it settled behind the houses up Uxbridge way. The traffic too, when I crossed the street just … More Of loss and layers

Windsor

I lower the black plastic rubbish bag onto the rail platform and hear the familiar clink of glass, thinking how the other passengers must wonder at the strange visage of a well-dressed middle aged man carrying a large bag full of bottles. It’s past 11:00 in the evening and the good people of Windsor are … More Windsor

Drostan’s Tears

Some way past Ellon, following the now muddy path which the Formartine and Buchan Way had become after a night and a day of successive bands of thunder storms, I asked her: “So, this walk of ours, from Aberdeen to Mill of Aden, if it’s something of a pilgrimage as you suggest, then why are … More Drostan’s Tears

Island Farewell 

I push hard against the door, fighting winter’s wind on the other side, stepping from the bright, cozy warmth of the passenger lounge into the dark night air.  Brrrr.  Baby it’s cold outside. Turning right toward the front of the Queen of New Westminster, my unzipped jacket flaps wildly.  I pause, turning my back to … More Island Farewell