A forever work in progress

The older I get the more the realisation hits me that some of us in this life are destined to never find love. I mean okay, sure, statistically that should almost be an impossibility in a world of eight billion people. We must all have more than one potential soulmate with a number that big, it just stands to reason and yet, when it comes to Jake, my best mate of 33 years I'm seriously starting to have my reservations. The boy is a perpetual car crash just waiting to happen when it comes to matters of the heart. Truth be told our Jake was a late bloomer when it came to members of the opposite sex. He finally popped his cherry on a lads holiday to Mykonos at the age of 21 to a local girl by the name of Phanie Zervas who the lads quickly christened magnet for obvious reasons. Transpires we all missed a trick because apparently Zervas in Greek means hunter . Zeus, Aphrodite and the rest of em had already bestowed us with a gift from the God's which we missed entirely. Trust twent...

On a mild spring morning 84 year old Arthur Kent shuffles his way down the Kingsland High Street in Dalston, London. He's trodden the path beneath his feet thousands of times before, this area his home for almost his entire life other than the period he was temporarily evacuated during the Second War when he was still knee high to the proverbial grasshopper. Years earlier as a small child he'd have skipped down the same route holding hands with his mother. His pace now however fully matches that which you'd expect of a gentleman in his advancing years, slowly shuffling, one step after another closer to death at a time. Now he has just one solitary pace and you'd be quite unable to tell by looking at him whether he was hurrying or taking a leisurely stroll, they're now both very much entwined with one another and are for all intents and purposes very much one and the same thing. Today he wears a burgundy cardigan which sits lopsided on his arching shoulders. Dependin...

“Do you think that all mothers are disappointed with their sons? I mean do you think it's hardwired into their DNA?” There followed a brief pause. I imagine if you had bat-like levels of superior hearing you might be able to detect the sound of the cogs grinding away right now between the ears, not yet fully in sync with one another. Finally the clutch is engaged and we're back in gear.  “I mean to love and be disappointed cannot be mutually exclusive surely and I'm assuming every mother loves their son and yet, well…” Michael’s rambling words tail off again and silently head off somewhere into the abyss. If the poorly constructed thought process and sentence continues in his head then Jane isn't entirely sure. She sits and studies the furrowed brow and look of pained thought etched across his face.  Even after a decade of marriage she's still never entirely sure what her husband is thinking at any given point in the day. Sharing full sentiments isn't one of his...

“Thank you everyone for being here today. It truly means the world to me for you all to come and join us on this special occasion. I'm not going to speak on behalf of my new incredibly beautiful wife because I'm not stupid enough to get married and have her file for a divorce all on the same day. We tossed a coin to see who goes first with the speeches and she won and said that I had to go first so here I am doing as I'm told. Yes, I know it's a first before any of you smart arses shout it out. I want to say a special thank you to my older brother Sean and to my now sister in law Phillipa for helping bring us together.” I turn to look at Phillipa who clearly knows where I'm about to go with this and she looks at me with pleading eyes, begging me without words not to tell the story of how I met her sister and her key part in the tale. I turn back to the guests and ask “Has everyone heard the story of how we met?” This question was met with a cross volley of yes’s ...

Charles Callaghan sat down in his drawing room to partake in his daily ostentatious breakfast consisting only of two black cups of Grand Moka Matari Coffee made by Bacha Coffee served in a Hermés Cheval D’Orient coffee cup and saucer, completed with a print edition of the Financial Times. No one was exactly sure the precise point in time he'd slipped into being an utter cunt, but associates surmised it was probably around the summer of 2003. It hadn't been a laborious process on his part, he found it was a naturally occurring talent, some might even go as far as to suggest it was a God given one. Whichever it was, once Charles had discovered his niche he saw no reason to deviate from his position. If Charles’ behaviour was to the chagrin of his wife Penelope then she didn't demonstrate it outwardly at least. This may have had something to do with her weekly trysts with her horse riding instructor whereby the only thing being ridden was Penelope somewhere into next week much...

T he first day of any new job is a truly nerve-wracking affair, a sea of unfamiliar faces and a roll call of names that you'll instantly forget. One brief introduction over and you're waltzed onto the next person and then rinse and repeat. This is x and they do y. Maybe this is what being a royal feels like, day after day of endless strangers standing ready to shake your hand and pretend they're thrilled to meet your acquaintance when clearly they have better things to be getting on with in that moment. Trying to remember dozens of names to faces is one thing, trying not to adopt force-fed notions into the perceived slights of someone's character is potentially so much harder. In a new workplace you're rarely allowed to make up your own mind and form your own opinion. Heaven forbid! Everyone already has their role assigned and their characters fully assassinated. Soon enough in the blink of an eye, you too will have been there long enough for everyone to have categ...

"How about we play a game of twenty questions?" Katie asks Jack as she rubs the tip of her finger around the rim of her wine glass. Jack is unclear whether she's trying to be seductive or make the glass vibrate with some sort of sound like a middle school science experiment. “Sure why not,” he replies maybe a little too unconvincingly for Katie's liking.  “It'll be fun,” she tells him, sounding like she's convinced even if he clearly isn't.  “OK well don't be offended if I pass on one or two.”  Katie narrows her gaze, tilts her head to the right and purses her lips. Jack literally has no idea what that looks could mean so makes a mental note to begin to study body language. Silence descends like autumn mist over the dinner table. Jack feels the palms of his hands begin to perspire. Should he say something? Is she waiting for him to get a coin out of his pocket and toss it to see who goes first? Finally Katie opens her mouth to speak. “I'll go first...