Getting to the Party on Time (via the Angels)

Getting to the Party on Time

We are going to a party at Siobhan’s friend’s apartment on the south side of the Embankment and are taking the train. So we get on at the Angel and take the lift, an old wooden box, down into the Underground.

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Death of the Journalist

Death of the journalist

He was only visiting for a short time but it was always a dangerous junction where the car accident occurred.

People crossed there all the time, under the Brentford overpass, at the cross walk; even though you were hidden in the shade behind the thick grey concrete supporting pillars of the freeway.

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No Longer Fit for the Party

Not fit for the party

I am in Paris in the banlieues and I am going to a party. Or at least I think I was invited. And I am parking my car on a deserted dusty brown and ill-lit side street. There are no other cars at first but when I park I find myself trying to squeeze in between a white van and a blue car. I have to shift my car back and forth to maneuver it into the space.

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Throwing Sandwiches Doesn’t Do Any Good

Throwing sandwiches

I was sitting with Georgie when it was time to go. This was after cleaning up the avocado sandwich that I threw at the wall.

We were seated in deck chairs outside, in a garden with fake grass, and I had made the sandwich earlier with the only ingredients I could find. A piece of white bread, a thick slice of pâté, cut, but placed in one solid chunk on the bread. Then the avocado buttered on top.

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Picking the Right Flowers

How to pick the right flowers

We are going to a party, Amy’s house warming, and I am trying to work out who to buy flowers for. It’s her party so I think I should get her flowers, except an old, but hopefully new again girlfriend, FG, will be there, so maybe I should get her flowers too.

Then again, FG might misinterpret me getting flowers for Amy.

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