A Nice Cup of Tea
An under-sized teaspoon stirs one white and blue-patterned bone china cup filled with tea, and then another. The quantity of milk administered is – by chance, exactly the correct amount to produce a balanced and refreshing drink. Having retired downstairs to the parlour, Gregor stands thoughtful by an occasional table, Rossepièrre sits in an upholstered Chippendale copy. Read more
Gregor ascends the staircase. At the top, we watch as he struggles to open a stair-gate, his fingers ever more frantically twisting the sleeved locking mechanism one way, then the other. All efforts without joy. After giving it a good rattle and a few whispered expletives, he opts for the leg-over manoeuvre.
A man fitting the description for Rossepiérre is standing in a bedroom doorway. He holds a wooden-handled magnifying glass and is concentrating his stare at what looks like a small black mark on the door frame.
“Put on a pair of those blue PVC plastic overshoes,” he says without breaking away, “I’ll be with you in a minute.” Gregor sees a small box right in front of him. “Be careful when you first walk in them, they’re as slippy as hell.” Read more
Available as an ebook on Amazon.
Heaven and Hell, and In-Between
Brinkinfield’s first foray into the world of Amazon, a short story of 5,357 words split into three sections and an epilogue. This work heralds the very first introduction of Gregor Samson, a character seen in development here and set to star in a series of future, gently humorous short stories.
Within this instalment we observe Gregor as an ordinary fellow, liking nothing better than eating his dinner in front of the television with a schedule of viewing mapped out in advance. On this particular evening, he had not expected death to come upon him. In fact, he’d mistaken it for a case of bad indigestion.
As we know, death is not the end, only the beginning of a new journey. And yet, would you have ever expected the next life to be complicated and bureaucratic – that there would be a place for clipboards, lists and databases? Surely there would be no use for such things?
Well, there might be, they’re dealing with a lot of numbers.
Within these words, we follow Gregor on his other-worldly travels and share in the experience of shame, embarrassment, the fantasies and challenges he is faced with along the way.
After reading, you may ask yourself, “How would I fare, come my own day of judgement?”
Sat on the ninety-nine bus, Gregor is in deep ponder mode. There can’t be many detective constables who use public transport, he thought. Earlier, as well as no uniform neatly folded in the chest of drawers, there had been no police car sat on his driveway. He’d wondered if a car might be sent to collect him, but in the time it’d taken for him to go through his morning ablutions, there had been no abrupt rap against his front door, no yelling through the letterbox. So, instead, having donned his best ‘easy-care’ outfit, deciding against a tie and choosing tan coloured suede brogues, he’d ambled off to the bus stop around the corner from where he lives. Read more
“We have a murder in Oxford city, a house sealed off and by now crawling with forensic ‘roaches. Get your backside down there Gregor. I want to see a report on my desk by end of play today.” Read more
Unfortunately for us, but critically for Gregor, we join him sat on the toilet part way through his morning routine. Earlier, he’d groaned while reluctantly rolling off the mattress and up onto his feet. Stumbling down the winding staircase, task two had been to feed his cats, two of whom had devoured their breakfasts, while the third had turned his nose up and walked away. Coffee had been prepared, milk warmed, a fluffy pancake re-heated in the toaster. Once plated, the pancake had been adorned with several slices of banana, a spoonful of thick double cream and finished with a generous drizzle of maple syrup. With caffeine well on its way to full ingestion and his appetite sated, Gregor had returned upstairs to the bedroom. Once there, he’d opened up the window to a chilly spring morning and lit his first cigarette of the day. Like everyone else in his life, the birds sung disapprovingly of his smoking. Read more
Oh God I feel so rough this day
Too much of food of smoke drink drunk
Last night consumed inhaled, I pray
To blow right through this cloudy funk
An arachnophobic look said
With nails drawn deep into her knees
Old man what has entered your head?
Rather you do not tell me please Read more
Working hard, I gesso out a canvas
Sausages and pittas bake in oven
Segovia plays loud from the corner
Smiles broadly arpeggio ‘Romanza’ Read more
I take small bites,
with speed all around the circumference,
What do I find beneath the skin and flesh?
Hope, victory, riches, escape?
Only the seeds of a disillusioned generation.