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Monthly Archives: November 2013

‘Hockey puck’ (or; A poet’s frame of reference)

I I like to have my steaks done ‘like a hockey puck’. Sometimes I actually say this to the waiters (though not in French restaurants, admittedly.) II In Ethiopia, some ‘baristas’ knock used coffee grounds out onto the bare-earth floors. Flat, round, and black. ‘Like a hockey puck,’ I tell people. III I used to play [...]

That situation

where you’re chatting up some girl ever so casually in a pub or a library or wherever, really, for a good half-hour or more only subsequently to realise you have one of your girlfriend’s hairs – a foot long, reddish, with noticeable purple highlights – stuck somehow to the front right shoulder of your sweater.