Author Archives: Scribe Doll

Borzoi

I couldn’t believe my eyes, so I dodged my way through the Saturday lunchtime crowds by the market, and strode towards him.  Two women were stroking his cream head.  When he saw me, he slid past them and lifted his … Continue reading

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“So What Brought You to Norwich?”*

When I tell the truth, they don’t believe me. I was brought to Norwich by a sheet of paper, a pen, and a china mug. It was winter 2013, and I was at odds with my life.  There appeared to be … Continue reading

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– and that’s Jazz.

It’s 7.45 and all the tables are already occupied.  The staff are carrying in more chairs.  Drinks are sipped.  The hubbub of chatter hovers over the room, an evocation of the cigarette smoke of yesteryear. The jam session is advertised … Continue reading

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Welcoming In The New Year*

Raid all the cupboards and drawers.  Throw into the charity shop bag anything you no longer want, toss into the bin liner anything nobody would want.  Make room for the beautiful, the useful, the new. Vacuum the carpets, remove the … Continue reading

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There’s no Santa Claus but…

Tamsin wrote the letter with her favourite pen.  The blue and gold one she had got for her birthday.  She formed all the letters carefully, so Santa Claus would be able to read her handwriting.  Her grandmother said good children … Continue reading

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Socially Impaired

I am brusquely jolted from my mellow, Sunday morning slumber.  I’ve just remembered.  I have to go to a party this afternoon.  Oh, heck. “I wish I didn’t have to go,” I tell H. over a plateful of French toast. … Continue reading

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Advent Carols at Norwich Cathedral

“We should get there at least half an hour earlier to get a decent seat.” “Half an hour!” “Bring a book.” “I don’t know… reading a book in church?” “Other people chat before the service, which I find infuriating.  At … Continue reading

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“Thank You” Isn’t Just About Etiquette

I’ve started dropping friends and acquaintances who fail to thank.  Be it for a present, a favour or simply for having had dinner at my home.  It’s my choice and although it may appear as unforgiving, I have good reasons … Continue reading

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A Little Black Number Called Genie

I’d grieved over the meaninglessness of my first cat, Pyewacket, going missing and now felt I was ready for a new feline room mate.  Kittens in London are like gold dust, since most people have their cats neutered and spayed, … Continue reading

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Do people change, or is blood really thicker than water?

It’s a grey, chilly afternoon and I’m listening to Jordi Savall’s CD Orient-Occident.  I love it.  It makes me quiver all over, it makes me tingle.  It makes my blood and every cell in my body want to dance. “You … Continue reading

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