How Frankie got his own back — Sixteen-year-old Frankie walked along the makeshift road under the intense heat of brilliant sunshine. He proceeded beneath the cloudless sky with little enthusiasm as dry, cracked boots clumped against dry, cracked earth. A dumper truck overtook him, coughing out a cloud of black diesel smoke that failed to disperse in…

This writer thinks so — While there are always myriad views expressed on the best way to progress in the world of online writing, one piece of advice I’ve seen a lot is only to write evergreen content. …

The past and the future side-by-side — It came and went without much fuss really. There was the predictable ribbing at work, about bus passes and Zimmer frames, and young Eric, the office wag, chipped in with his two penn’orth. He announced, in a sober tone, that as I had now turned sixty, I would be required…

Or, how I learned to stop worrying and love the blue — No man but a blockhead ever wrote, except for money. So said James Boswell, quoting the subject of his biography, The Life of Samuel Johnson, way back in 1791. Obviously, there were no online writing platforms back in those days, and Rowland Hill didn’t start operating the penny post until…

The toys, the tree, the temptation — They say that as we get older we remember things from childhood with more clarity than recent events. I don’t know how much truth there is in that but I have certain memories from when I was a child that are really quite vivid. Then again, there are some events…

Or, how I saved my friend from a bad marriage — In anticipation of a predicted heavy overnight frost, I was filling the old hot bag with water from the kettle, which was just off the boil. As I poured, I diverted the merest splash of hot water into my nightcap whisky, which stood on a table nearby. …

Cleaning cash, literally and metaphorically — I felt truly sorry for our Sylvia, as I watched her prod the remains of a kipper on her plate with a fork. She wore a vacant expression as she stared down at the half-eaten fish, for which she had no appetite. …

Times change, and so do people — On hearing a noise from the vicinity of the kitchen, Barbara stopped chewing her sandwich and muted the television. After a brief silence there came the cry, Only me! On recognizing the voice as belonging to her daughter Jane, Barbara resumed mastication and restored voices to the assortment of women…

My first football kick in the guts — As I type, I am one of a dwindling number of Englishmen who saw his country win the World Cup, live on television. Of course, that stock may be greatly replenished in the coming days, if England win the tournament. I was a small boy on the day of the…