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The Portrait Game

If Lady Alexandra had sat for a portrait before, she might not have fallen for it. When the portraitist had offered to cut her price in half if she would allow his student, Mr Bridger, to paint her in place

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Posted in Saturday Hooptedoodle

Conflict Resolution with Tea

The sound of the television hit Janice as soon as she opened the front door. Nothing unusual about that. Nor was it unusual to find Ron and Quintin on opposite ends of the sofa, staring at the screen. What was

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Posted in Saturday Hooptedoodle

The Cat and the Crosshairs

The sniper in khaki swung his rifle toward the movement, his finger caressing the trigger. He’d seen a human form vanish into the wreckage of a house before he’d been able to make out any detail. He watched the house

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Posted in Saturday Hooptedoodle

Alliteration at the Bus Stop

Keith skidded to a halt in the bus stop before too many raindrops had spattered his suit. “Morning,” said Janet. As usual, she was the only other person there at quarter past eight in the morning. Keith was too out

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Do You Remember the Bluebells?

This month, our favourite place is full of flowers. Yes, that’s right, they’re dandelions. Clever girl. Do you remember last year, when there were bluebells as well? No? Well, a year’s a longer time for you than for me. Long

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Posted in Saturday Hooptedoodle

Prime Minister Johnson

“I have the briefing on the North Korea situation here, Prime Minister,” said Janet to the back of his head. The Prime Minister didn’t look around. “Not now, Beth. Can’t you see I’m having my hair done?” “Yes, Prime Minister,

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Posted in Saturday Hooptedoodle

Jack Under the Table

A man walked into the room, closed the green door and pressed his back to it. His eyes darted to the window on the wall to his left, then to the window on the other side of the room, then

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Posted in Saturday Hooptedoodle

For Want of an Acerbic Metaphor

This morning’s breakfast was buttered toast, coffee with milk and three sugars and sour grapes. The coffee and toast came from my kitchen. The sour grapes came from skimming the arts pages of the Telegraph on my tablet. They splashed

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Posted in Saturday Hooptedoodle

Six O’Clock Shuffle

The train doors slid open, inviting Zack to his first mistake.  He tried to get on the train.  What else was he supposed to do when a train opened its doors? A torrent of humanity poured out.  He’d thought he’d

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Posted in Saturday Hooptedoodle

Life by Screen and Microwave

You see a bus full of heads bent over tiny screens, each one stamped with a different logo that came from the same Foxconn factory. Tops of heads tell you nothing of use, which is why you need me to

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Posted in Saturday Hooptedoodle
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