The Day The TV Breaks
Posted by Martyn Kelly on May 22nd, 2012 in Short Stories
I never liked visiting my Dad’s house. It was boring. My toys were at my house, at my Mum’s house. Dad’s house was books and dust, newspapers and daddish things. Watches and tools. Grey and brown and black coats. Mugs to drink pop out of instead of glasses. Dad’s TV didn’t even work anymore. It broke when I was about …
Calon Lân
Posted by Martyn Kelly on May 22nd, 2012 in Cogitations
Why, when I hear ‘Calon Lân’, do the hairs on my neck and my arms stand on end the same way they do should a woman or the weather touch me? The song knows that path through my ears into the memories of my childhood that few things know, the same way cold air of October and the smell of …