“So how are you?”
It’s question that I am asked quite often in passing conversation. I smile and always reply along the lines of,
“I’m alright you know” or “I’m good, the recovery is long but it’s going in the right direction”
When people see me in person they comment that I look really well and some have even remarked that I have lost weight (I like those people even more). What people are really asking is,
“Are you OK?”Read More »
Thomas John Woodward and the Facehugger from the Alien sci-fi horror franchise would on the face of it have absolutely nothing in common. One has entertained millions and sold over one hundred million records while the other has scared the willies out of millions and made many millions more at the box office. Little was I to know that I would be the missing link to bring them together.
The Cooking Pot centre is a day centre situated in north London that has been serving its community for over thirty years. As part of Black History month they were focussing on health issues and they had asked for a volunteer to come and deliver a talk on prostate cancer to their members. It was not too far to get to and I thought that it would be worthwhile, so I asked to deliver the presentation.Read More »
The shirt was crisp and new. Shoes had achieved a mirror like polish. The suit was doing it. Leaflets and presentation packed. I was so ready and excited heading out to my first solo venture for PCUK in Croydon. I got there in plenty of time and pulled up to the gate. Banners? Cheerleaders? Waving crowds? Nope, nudda and keep hoping. Instead one great big hefty padlock and chain, cobwebs and a deserted building. The word was out then about my latest talk. Oh, and not to think ‘impending doom’ but it began to chuck it down. All that was missing was thunder, Halloween type music coming from the tress, a dark sinister mist descending from nowhere and a man in a mask.Read More »
We must have careered around the corner doing at least fifty miles per hour. The car skidded burning deep smouldering rubbery kisses into one of West London’s hard cold main roads. Momentarily, and in apparent slow motion, the car began to lift onto two wheels but he brutally slammed me into the car door with his left hand without breaking his right handed death grip on the steering wheel. Then then shot me a look that told me my life could be in danger if I tried anything. The multiple blue flashing police lights were furiously stabbing into the evening night behind us while the sirens relentlessly screamed in all directions. The police were gaining on us I was terrified what he was going to do next.Read More »
I Am The One In Three 