Essays

Fooled Again

By Ray Wilson The late afternoon sun illuminates the garden; beyond the paved courtyard, there is a fishpond. Beyond those manicured lawns and formal flower beds, there is shrubbery on the far borders. “Watch him on the paving slabs with his walker, won’t you?” my missus says. Frohike is adept at using his frame, and

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Event 202

 By Ray Wilson My hound is getting animated as we eventually leave the riverside path; she tugs excitedly on her lead as we near the town centre. I am meeting up with my missus at her friend’s shop. “Hello, lovely girl,” Debbie says as my hound propels herself at warp speed across the wooden shop

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