John Baker’s Blog

A watch of nightingales finished a set piece and settled down into silence.

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And yet, he thought to himself when he finally escaped to the Gents and settled himself down, would they be so keen and so effusive if they knew that he hadn’t had one good dump in the last fifteen years.

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I was still hearing the axe going into my shoulder and thinking about that time we were splitting elm logs for Celia. I was thinking about the pain and trying to stay conscious and wondering if the fucker had killed me and how Janet and Echo’d like it if they’re widowed and fatherless. I was thinking I didn’t wanna die there in that crummy street in Oslo where nobody knows who I am.

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