The phone rang in the hall, but it wasn’t for him. It never was now, Graham thought, and froze momentarily, holding his hand over the receiver. He felt a tremor of disquiet run over him as the thought of a blank future intruded itself. Then he quickly pushed the thought away,

I was sitting on a bench by the pond in the park with a sandwich, feeling like an old man with time to kill and no better way to do it. It was a good place to come to if you needed to get out of the office for half an hour, needing fresh air and some sanity.

London

Forget Alaska. North Korea Might Soon Be Able to Nuke New York.

Kim Jon Ung was in a good temper. He’d just a very large and delicious lunch of freshly caught lobster and crayfish, with French fries and malty beer, after a busy morning

THE CHIEF FOREST RANGER was an exhausted woman. Her deeply lined face was streaked with black ash, and she mopped her streaming forehead with a blackened handkerchief.

“Hi, Audrey. I’m very sorry for your loss,” she said quietly, putting a hand on Audrey’s arm. “You

Well, there was Jean off Fancy Goods. She was little more than a schoolgirl really, sweet and naive, but I was 19 and very grown up. We'd been to the Gaumont together to see Breakfast at Tiffanys, and I told her she looked a bit like Audrey

Jerry was seriously wondering if the best course of action if you were feeling unwell was to spend forty five minutes in an enclosed space with twenty other sick people, many of whom were coughing, wheezing, or sneezing. Finally he reached for his coat and was

“Lovely spot,” said the inspector, parking the car neatly on the verge of the lane outside the cottage. “Nice and rustic.”

“Too bloody rustic if you ask me,” said the sergeant, tearing angrily at a bramble that had inveigled itself into his jacket, and

It looks like a decent enough morning for strolling down the Boulevard du Temple instead of taking a carriage, decides M. Jean Jacques Truffaud, homme d'affaires and patron of the arts. That at least is something to be pleased about. He has just had yet

“Come, gentle night; come, loving, black-browed night;
Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love

This the story of poor Linda
Who is fast approaching forty
Her appearance love might hinder
But she’s longing to be naughty.
She has gone to have her hair waved
With all-over body tan
Has her armpits and her legs shaved
But she still can’t

“Well, that seemed to go all right,” said the young curate to the vicar, easing off his clerical garment into something more comfortable, and checking his long hair in the vestry mirror.

The vicar nodded. He was a florid faced older man, reaching behind himself