• Living Between the Lines

    A World Without…

    I dreamt I had had my iPhone and purse stolen, two possessions integral to my daily life and needs. The dream was surreal, as most dreams are, in that I was stranded at Waterloo Station, without means to propel myself home again. As is the way with dreams, I soon found myself in a taxi worrying how I would pay the fare. This worry was compounded by the driver appearing to lose his way. I duly noted that there was no SatNav in the car and the driver relied on a walkie-talkie for communication with his base. It was all, most strange. Stranger still, when I eventually arrived home, (Taxi…

  • Living Between the Lines

    Hold the Front Page…or maybe not!

    When I was a child, at primary school, we were always asked to write about our weekend on a Monday morning. Were you? The Blackboard had the day’s date and the word ‘News’ scrawled on it in thick, white chalk and both were heavily underlined lest we be left in any doubt. The book in which we wrote was, invariably, a yellow covered exercise book. The pen we wrote with, varied from year to year. Hence, first efforts were in the thick black charcoal pencils that our stubby fingers could grasp more easily, while later efforts were produced with fine nibbed fountain pens that tended to leak in one’s pencil…