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A Simple Love Affair

Let me tell you a story for this Sund’y afternoon … take a break from the political mill-stone and let your dove of delight fly free! …

Years ago I was “doing a reno’” for this Greek bloke who was managing the job for his daughter … who was the owner of the house. She was as the lovely “Anna” described in the story below. She would come around to the job every few days and talk to the old man about design and so on … I never spoke to her and only saw her from a distance … she always wore a jacket thrown over her shoulders in the Greek tradition, so I didn’t know she was a thalidomide child.

“Is your daughter married?“ I once asked him.

“No!! … she never marry!” he replied with a twist of his face. I was puzzled.

“What do you mean; never?” I persisted.

‘What? … You not see? … no arm, no marry”

“What do you mean: ‘no arm’?” I queried him.

“She have no arm … just a stump … her mother she once take that pill … tha … tha …”. I twigged.


“Yes! … that’s it … and she have no arm … so, no arm no marry … ”

Of course, I have created a fantasy around that moment, that reality … and I have moved the story to the mallee, to another time and place … Why not? … I too desire a better ending than what the sour cynicism of that old man offered. Why should there not be a simple love affair, set in a mallee town with two young people? Let us create our own “reality” … if only for one moment, one afternoon! And even as the some may attest; that only 1% of people are interested … so effing what!? Let it be just that 1%, for that small number is powerful enough to move heaven and Earth to a better place in the heart of humanity even against the greater odds of the indolent 99%!

Dammit all! … what people have we become that we succumb to such beasts and barbarians that would not only steal our possessions, our ambitions, but would come back to steal our dreams! … we should all end up as those killers we saw happily re-enacting their brutality on the news last night! … and if we are but the 1% standing, with nothing to arm us against the cynical mob save our humble imagination .. I tell you this; as far as I am concerned: THEY SHALL NOT PASS!

So … let us imagine …

A Simple Love Affair

When Anna fell in love it was not without a good deal of caution. You see: Anna was a thalidomide child and though she had grown to a beautiful woman, her left arm, stunted just below the elbow with two stumpy fingers threw a “check” on any chance of an out-going personality. So when Anna fell in love with Harry, it was a long, cautious apprenticeship.

Anna worked in partnership with her cousin; Bella, running a small general store in a country town out in the mallee. They named the business: “Annabellas” and it was a good business, an honest business well run that reflected the determination of the proprietors.

Anna was twenty- eight years old, of medium height with a slim face and long black hair down to the middle of her back. Let no-one doubt that old truth that a woman’s hair is her crowning glory! Anna was a fiercely independent woman and held no truck with self- pity, yet, there was that natural reserve that sets aside those with physical disabilities, that je ne sais quoi (that certain something), of the spirit that brackets their behaviour, a caution in manner and speech that is sometimes sadly lacking in other, less impaired specimens of “Humanus Grossness!” However, in matters physical, Anna never failed to pull her weight, and was always ready with a quick witticism if her stunted limb failed her. Yet, she never developed a long term relationship with any boy from the district. Oh, she was not the type to lament this reality, nor did she overcompensate her disadvantage with lasciviousness! She just had a well-balanced perspective of the situation and the close-knit societies of country towns seem to lock the young into behaviour systems that exclude, in the majority, any dabbling in relationships away from the physical and physiological norm. Not that this is a fault, for a country town is born of the earth and survives from the earth and therefore any deviation from the “pure state” (however illusory that is) of natural wholeness is, if not condemned; shunned. To put it simply, as old Smith once remarked with a worldly shrug: “No arm … no marry.”

Harry was of the district, once. His family sold up and moved away many years before and now he had moved back to take over the local garage, for Harry was a mechanic. Harry was thirty-three years old when he moved back to the district. He was tallish, well-built (for a mechanic!) with short fuzzy hair and a fixed smile on a generally happy face. Harry had no chip on his shoulder (no axe to grind!) and a healthy disposition. Just the person to run a garage in a small country town! Why sneer? he created neither moon nor sun, nor shook fist at others fortune, yet, Harry suffered that most disabling of conditions: He was shy! Oh, he could slam the gearbox of any tractor onto the block of the engine, with appropriate epithets and wiping of greasy hands and shout to a farmer across the road:

”She’ll be right this ‘arvo, Clem’,” … but, stand him in front of a pretty woman and he’d fumble about like a cow in a mud-hole. So consequently, one rarely saw Harry outside of overalls and armed with a spanner … except for the annual football club ball (you don’t like football? … tough, millions do!).

Harry’s garage was three doors down from “Annabellas”, consequently there was frequent conversation concerning pies or pasties or pieces of string between Anna and Harry. One of these centered around the aforementioned Ball ..

“Getting close now.” Harry said in an offhand way.

“Yes” Anna checked the list of groceries. Harry shifted foot, like a horse resting.

“Who are you going with, Harry?” this threw him a little as he was about to ask Anna the same question.

“Huh,oh! … well, myself I ‘spose … you got someone?” a slight inflection of voice.

“Yes … ”(drop of mouth from Harry) ”My father”. (Mouth picks up again). Anna ticks the last entry on the shopping list and looks up expectantly.

“Oh, … right.”

Harry fumbles in his top pocket and withdraws some money. He counts out carefully on the counter saying as he does so;

“Well I was wondering if you’d care to go with me?” Anna raised her eyebrows, the merest flicker of a warm smile at the edge of her mouth.

“Hmm, … but what about dad?”

“Oh, … he’d come too,” Harry quickly replied, lest there be insurmountable opposition. His eyes appealed.

“Well … ” and here the usual reserve stalled her, but this time she relented. “I’ll ask dad if he doesn’t mind … ”

“And you’ll come if it’s ok with him?” Harry persisted unusually but fearfully.

Anna thought, then looked at Harry closely.

“Yes,” she said. Harry seemed to lose a frightful burden just then, for he suddenly straightened up and smiled.

“Right-oh! … ” he quipped confidently, ”I’ll … I’ll catch you later”. and he left the store … he suddenly returned sheepishly to take his groceries. He gathered them up as if they were a clutch of puppies, smiled, and quickly retreated to his greasy nirvana.

Well, the night out at the ball went smoothly, as neither Anna nor Harry were wild ragers and would rather dance than drink. So consequently there were other social events that they escorted each other to, for Anna would invite Harry as much as vice-versa and so it became accepted that Harry and Anna would be matched on invitations ipso-facto, so do small communities naturally react.

No more than a stage of evolution I suppose (but you knew this was going to happen; shy man meets beautiful, flawed lady, they fall in love, get married etc, etc and so forth!). But there was one hindering factor in this quaint affair of the heart: the thalidomide arm … the flaw! … ah! … as a flaw in a diamond will deflect the light so does a flaw in a human disturb the smooth natural flow of emotions. Why even an embrace would draw attention to Anna’s stump arm , she; the embarrassed frustration of not being able to rub a caressing hand over Harry’s shoulders without adjusting her position, he ;the knowing of this frustration in Anna and the clumsy overcompensation on his part, the actions of dismissal of the offending limb! Yet that limb was her, or a part of her, as much as a leg or nose or breast! She knew it, he knew it but still the dammed thing would obtrude, out of all proportion into their consciousness. But then again, neither of them could or would broach such a delicate subject, such are the halting secrets of the heart: “will I? should I?” and so neither is done.

I’ll have to mention that long before Anna had met Harry, she became aware of this nagging feeling and once even, had seen a doctor in the city with a view to amputation of the offending limb, reasoning that it would be easier to explain away an injury than be eternally on show as a “freak”. Fortunately, (for she was strong willed) this idea, born on the wings of youthful despair, was soon cast aside as ridiculous and childish. And she grew stronger for it. Oh! that us with body complete could draw on such fortitude, when even a slight ailment of body or soul sends us into paroxysms of complaints. Oh frail souls! Oh weak heart!

So into the summer months under a vacant sky rafting on a sea of mallee bush did they continue with their courting, a gentle affair with neither tryst nor jealousy but as two labourers with a common goal they met, socialised and parted. And one day Harry “popped” the question. And Anna accepted and indeed, why shouldn’t she? … She desired children, a home to raise them in … but do I feel a little raising of hackles in you at this servile “acceptance” of a “woman’s lot”? Should she rebel at this “Patriarchal” social construction? ahh! … permit me a smile … and I ask you : do you really believe the world and all in it waits with bated breath for miraculous revelations from those that would have us stride with determination down this or that corrected path? … I once waited … and so I now smile … Yes. Anna accepted, yet there was one unsolved dilemma left in the air and she meant to speak to Harry about it soon.

Saterdee arvo, ahh! is there a more pleasant occupation than being young and alive in the summer with work behind you on a sunny Saterdee afternoon in the country? … Harry thought not as he stood wiping his greasy hands with a shaggy, greasy cloth outside his garage. A smile on his dial, a song in his heart and whom should he spot walking up the pavement toward him? …

“Anna!” he called with glee. ”Where’re you off to with such a pretty bouquet? … not another secret love I hope?” and he laughed. And gosh, didn’t she look pretty … her warming smile above the multi hued bouquet.

“It’s for mother’s grave actually,” she said. Harry gulped at his over exuberant gaffe!

“Oh dear, pardon me,” he gasped. Anna smiled now.

“Don’t be silly, she’s been dead fifteen years now,” and she fussed with the arranging of the flowers ”I’m going out to her memorial now, … you want to come?”

“Say no more.” And off they went.They had hardly driven a hundred yards when Harry suddenly ducked his head below the dashboard.

“What are you doing?” frowned Anna. “Just keep going it’s Noela Maletz! I said I’d have her car fixed this arvo!”

“What, are you afraid of her?”

“Dammit, the whole town’s afraid of her.”

“Whatever for? she’s a lovely lady … she just knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to say it.” Harry raised his eyes to glance backwards out of the car.

“Well, if she saw me driving around instead of fixing her car, she’d want my guts for garters! I’d lend her my car, ‘cept it’s out of action.”

“Your car! … it’s the worst bomb in town!”

“Oh yeah … an’ I bet your cupboards are empty!” they were both silent for a moment then burst into simultaneous laughter.

“The carpenters house is falling down around his ears! … Anna cried … ”And the cobbler has holes in his shoes! … Harry laughed … ” And the tailor has the arse hangin’ out of his trousers! They both choked in fits of laughter … ”Ahhahah … but it’s true!” cried Anna.

The car pulled up at the cemetery gates, Anna jumped out, Harry made to follow.

“Wait there, just be a minute.”

“But I thought you wanted me to come?”

“To her memorial. yes, this is her grave. We’ll go there next, I’ll be right back.”

It seemed a mystery to Harry, “Graves … memorials … same thing.” Anna returned in a moment and they started going again.

“I just had to replace the flowers.”

“So where is the memorial?”

“On the farm, dad made it just after mum died, it is rather unusual … we’ll be there in a little while.”

The family farm was ten kilometers out of town on a side road. After the black ribbon of bitumen, turning off onto the dirt road was like turning into a photograph:

“And I mark how the green of the trees,
Matches the blue vault of the sky … ”

The low stunted mallee trees leaned in from the shoulder of the road, the fronds of slim leaves dipping over the limestone gravel. Blackened twists of discarded bark and twigs littered around the knuckled boles and roots. Here and there among fallen trees, rabbit warrens displayed their sprays of fresh diggings white and musty between tangles and hummocks and if the eye is quick enough, a flash of cheeky tail can be spotted sporting behind tussocks of native grass, or even a round-glassy eye spying unblinkingly for any sign of danger, then a quick “thump-thump!” signal to other rabbits and scurry down the safety of a burrow and br’er rabbit says cheerio for the daylight hours!

Anna drove off into a track with a gate in the fence, entering the paddock, she drove alongside the fence till she reached another gate, though much smaller than the first, like a front gate to a house, there was a carefully manicured path with white limestones edging it, that led on a gentle slope toward a grotto-like cavern at the bottom of a basin in the surrounding land. Anna led them to this singular spot, for Harry had never heard of it before. They stood at the lip of the soak, green kikuyu grass spilled out from the sunken pit, it was circular, about thirty feet in diameter and the front sloped down to a pool of cool, clear water mirrored under an overhanging lip of limestone six foot above the pool. To one side of the pond, in a well tended, circle of earth, was the most beautiful flowering yellow rose-bush Harry had ever seen! He stood at the lip, gazing around at the scene.

“How long has this been here?” he asked amazed.

“As long as I can remember, Mum and Dad used to bring us here in the hot weather and we’d wade in the pool. After Mum died, Dad and us kids made it into a sort of memorial … she liked the place so much … ”The oasis” she called it. Dad also pumps water out for the stock in the dry weather. It never seems to run dry.”

“And the rose?” Harry asked.

“I planted that … a yellow rose for incorruption … she liked yellow.”

“It’s a lovely place … so peaceful.” Harry spoke dreamily … Anna took out a pair of clippers and went toward the rose.

“Come … ” she called. “Help me cut some roses.”

So they stood, she cutting, he taking the blooms. With her stumpy arm Anna deftly moved the prickly stems out of the way, her long, dark tresses falling this way and that over the blossoms so sparkling yellow in the sunlight. Now and then a petal would dislodge and fall spiraling to the earth, so silent was it there you could almost hear- the petals touch the soil.

“Harry?” Anna spoke as she concentrated.


“What do you think of my arm?” she didn’t look at him as she asked, she was listening to the tone in his voice. Harry hesitated … he knew what she meant and was delving into his emotions .

“Your arm … ” He repeated almost to himself. “I … I think it’s unfortunate but I don’t feel put off by it.” it was a start.

“It’s a burden, Harry, always has been, always will be, strange how sometimes it feels like it isn’t a part of me, so different, when I wake sometimes I look to see if it was just a dream.”

“Does it make a difference to our relationship?” he asked.

“In its clumsy intrusion, you know that … yes … more later perhaps than now, when our company grows familiar and little things come between us.”

Harry didn’t answer, but shrugged his shoulders. Anna stood facing him and placed her hand on his shoulder,

“Harry, we are about to be married … to perhaps have children … from there it’s a long road ahead … ”

“I … I’m sure we can do as good as other people in their marriages.” Harry gently replied. Anna turned slowly to one side to stare at the rose.

“I worry, Harry, that any children we may have will not also be affected.”

“It’s not passed on, I believe.”

“You believe, but who knows!” Anna’s emotions engulfed her and she dropped her head crying. “Who knows, Harry … it killed my mother, the responsibility she felt for it … if … if I bore children that were in some way deformed … ”

“Oh I’d hardly call … ”Harry interrupted.

“Yes!” Anna persisted “deformed, for that’s what it is Harry, not correctly formed … deformed … and I would indeed blame myself for … for … ” and she turned her tear-stained face to him ..

“Oh, Harry, If ever there was a time to back away from your commitment, it is now! … I wouldn’t hold it against you … but marry me not with naivety, nor … for gods’ sake … pity!” and she turned to him with a steady challenging gaze. Harry reached for her stump-arm and deliberately took it in his hands, she automatically went to pull it away but he held it tight and though she could have withdrawn it, a stronger force held her.

“Anna … would you think me so simple so as not to see the complications that lie ahead in our marriage? … for marriage it shall be, lest thou refuse me … and would you hold my feelings for you so lightly that you could see me casting them aside, like a discarded rag, for nothing more than this stunted limb? For if that be the measurement of grace, where does one start? Do I compare the beauty of your eyes against size of your feet?… or grace of your step to the lobe of your ear? … hearty laugh against dirty nail? … and where do I stop? .. ” He rubbed Anna’s two stumpy fingers gently “If I gaze into your eyes, do you see pity, greed, selfishness? … look now, Anna, don’t turn away, look! … you see affection … no pity, no naivety, no denial … I’m a grown man … l love you, Anna, do not misjudge me nor deny your own feelings but just say you will marry me.”

Harry raised her stump-arm to his lips, the two tiny fingernails painted red like those on her other arm, and kissed her fingers. Anna’s face contorted to one of weeping happiness and she flung her good arm about Harry’s neck and there they embraced while standing over the rose bush.

“Yes, Harry,” she murmured in his ear. ”I will marry you. Yes!”


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  1. Fi

    The artwork was painted by Marta Dahlig

  2. The AIM Network

    Thank you, Fi.

  3. Joseph Carli

    Y’know..I just LOVE a happy ending…must be an old softie…

  4. diannaart

    Have to wonder if Anna had just been rather plain instead of ” a beautiful woman” with stumpy arm. I guess plain women with physical defects aren’t the stuff of Love Stories.

    Perhaps, Joe, you could write a reversal of “Beauty and the Beast”, such as “Studly and the Hairy Shrew” – with a happy ending of course.


  5. Joseph Carli

    Aww….get fluttocked, dianna..go write your own…with a sad ending 🙂

  6. Kaye Lee

    Does the happy ending include studly turning into a normal man who appreciates the hairy shrew for the person she is and the good she does and how smart she is? It would be nice if she didn’t have to get pretty to be loved and respected.

  7. Joseph Carli we go…there’s been a bit of inter-communication between the dumb and desperate and they’ve come to demonstrate their lack of affection and lack-lustre lives…go for it goils!…make my day!

  8. Kaye Lee

    Nahhhh…you are too easy

  9. diannaart

    Easier than tossing a penny … Come in Spinner ….

  10. Joseph Carli

    Well, girls..a gentleman is not a gentleman if he ignores a girl’s attention…and a gentleman!

  11. Kaye Lee

    My attention was drawn by diannaart’s comment. Sorry to interrupt with my inter-communication.

  12. Joseph Carli

    Oh, Kaye…you NEVER interrupt…no..I’d say you more..; Intrude…or, is that ; Interfere?…no..perhaps better to say ; butt in with no idea what you are talking about…yes..that’s better..

  13. Kaye Lee

    Lighten up sunshine. I could have gone on a diatribe about the damage done to girls who think they are unworthy and the billions wasted on the beauty industry but I tried to make my point in a less confronting way.

    I am sorry for derailing with thoughts that popped to mind.

    I exit stage left.

  14. Joseph Carli ARE a diatribe….and a girl..a young girl…never a woman…you have the expectations of a child, the petulance of a child and the demands of a child…you are just a young girl who has grown older….and I doubt you will ever be anything else.
    diannaart…?…I dismiss HER as not worthy of consideration.

    Now..BOTH OF YOU…go to your rooms!

  15. corvus boreus

    You are not a ‘gentleman’, more like a patronizing prick who sometimes quotes flowery poetry.

    You are a person who has gone out of his way to gratuitously insult women on this site, including regaling them with your ‘ancestral curse’, which consisted of descriptions of yourself grunting out moist sharts and making hip-thrusting piss-spray motions, all based on your claim to stem from the semen of some horse-raiding rapist of centuries past.

    You are also a froth-lipped blow-hard bullshitter and an arrogantly self-obsessed attention whore, with the qualifying distinctions that you have spent a half-life cutting and nailing bits of wood, and once failed to finish a history degree.

    But, phuq me dead, you do write some top-notch male wish-fulfillment fantasy fiction, especially the ones about shy blokes scoring with hot chicks of the type rendered emotionally vulnerable by insecurities over peripheral physical abnormalities.

  16. Kaye Lee

    (Ok I know I said I would hush but that last paragraph made me laugh as I was just typing fantasy #37 huh before I saw cb’s comment – not about the article but Joe’s comment….backing out of room…my feet are like wings bwana)

  17. diannaart

    corvus boreus


  18. Joseph Carli

    Crow…they whistle and you come…!..good doggie… is considerate of you to place yourself between the girls and myself as a kind of..of..castrato protector…but I will remind you that it was they who picked the argument…and while it is kind of you to intervene, well…let me just say that for the last twenty years or so, I have had to groom, strap, sometimes ride and care for several big Holsteiner Warmbloods…17+ hands…tetchy animals, those warmbloods..and I reckon if I can handle those beasts, I can easily handle a couple of dumb oxen.

    and diannaart..a diamond is “brilliant”, you are only single facet.

  19. corvus boreus

    I will, in all honesty, confess that, yes, part of the reason for my posting of such a negative character summation was a reaction to the personal disrespect and dismissive insults that you have directed (across many threads) towards Kaye Lee and Diannaart, 2 people who have, in our online exchanges of views and info over the years, earned not only my respect but also some measure of affection. Not just superficial displays of ‘masculine chivalry’, but actual loyalty and solidarity with people I deem decent.

    Beyond that, you have also given me more than enough cause for expressing disdain and disgust of my own accord.

    You truly are a half-formed coprolite.

  20. Joseph Carli

    ” You truly are a half-formed coprolite.”…terms of endearment always find my soft spot, Crow…I forgive you…and I manumit you…I suggest you not be confused with the difference between the aggressive (me) and the passive aggressive (the above)..the aggressive are more honest in their reactions…the passive aggressive …here..for your future reference..:

    ” passive-aggressive behavior, which is much harder to detect than overtly aggressive behavior. Passive-aggressiveness, as the word indicates, is a tendency to engage in indirect expression of hostility through acts such as subtle insults, sullen behavior, stubbornness, or a deliberate failure to accomplish required tasks.

    Because passive-aggressive behavior is implicit or indirect, it can be hard to spot, even when you’re feeling the psychological consequences. To help you identify this type of behavior, I describe five instances of it below.”

  21. corvus boreus

    I’m not really interested in the pop-psych musings of someone who needed detailed instructions on how to eat a phuqqen loquat.
    For future reference, if a fruit has chunky big seeds, it is usually better to spit them than shit them.

  22. Joseph Carli

    A loquat ?……oh corvus……a loquat, a most delicious fruit…

  23. Barry Thompson.

    I don’t know why all the above to and froing was deemed necessary Joseph, I once again enjoyed your story telling.
    It was a lovely piece.
    Thank you.

  24. Joseph Carli

    Thank you Barry…as I wrote in the introduction, the story was created as a “fantasy piece” to take what was a cynical old man’s comment to another location, another created life for no other reason than to let us escape from the political mill-stone of the “super Saturday” with a bit of romantic interlude on a Sunday afternoon…..and damn to those who would come to steal our moments of desire to dream….Well..they did come and as I wrote also above :

    ” Dammit all! … what people have we become that we succumb to such beasts and barbarians that would not only steal our possessions, our ambitions, but would come back to steal our dreams! … we should all end up as those killers we saw happily re-enacting their brutality on the news last night! … and if we are but the 1% standing, with nothing to arm us against the cynical mob save our humble imagination .. I tell you this; as far as I am concerned: THEY SHALL NOT PASS!

    So … let us imagine …”

    I have no truck with the petty bourgeois trying to inflict their pet frustrations and middle-class faux sensitivities on me.

  25. Kaye Lee


    You write well. Perhaps you need to work on your anger management though. Our comments about how nice it would be if the heroine wasn’t beautiful for a change should not have prompted such a vitriolic personal attack.

    Your words are disturbingly familiar for women – they are the words that an abuser uses.

    “”it was they who picked the argument” (aka they asked for it)

    ” the dumb and desperate [have] come to demonstrate their lack of affection and lack-lustre lives”

    “butt in with no idea what you are talking about”

    you are not a REAL woman…not “worthy of consideration”….you will never amount to anything

    ” I can easily handle a couple of dumb oxen”

    Perhaps some reflection and less anticipated tension might be worth it?

  26. Joseph Carli

    Kaye Lee…your comment just there above this shows all the classic lines and deviousness of the passive-aggressive personality…; the claim of “innocence” of any provocation, the segue to shift blame to your perceived opponent with selective quotations, the “friendly advice” on how THEY can improve THEIR view on things and finally the complete and obtuse denial of any personal involvement in the affair…

    Classic passive-aggressive sociopath.

  27. Kaye Lee

    Perhaps you can explain to me how I provoked you so I can avoid doing so in the future.

  28. Joseph Carli

    ” Perhaps you can explain to me how I provoked you so I can avoid doing so in the future.”…:

    “Oh officer!..I was just showing my friend here the intricacies of texture in the grain of hickory on this baseball bat and he..for NO explicable reason that ..I..can gather, smacked his head against said bat………..twenty-five times! “….

    Come off it conneroo…

    I am reminded of a Nelson Algren story (“The Captain is a card”) where the Captain of police asks a suspect why he was running a house of ill repute:

    “It wasn’t a brothel, it was a sports and social club” the reprobate defended…
    “So who were the scantily dressed women?” the capt’ asks…
    ” They were the social part” the man replies…
    “Oh that’s good” the Capt’ says ” For a moment I thought you were going to tell me they were lady wrestlers!”

  29. Kaye Lee

    I take that as meaning you can’t find any provocation other than perhaps your personal dislike?

  30. helvityni

    Graham Greene’s famous love story The End of a Affair starts with : this is a story of hate…( or something like that)

    Your story here seems to have awakened a lot of negativity…if not hate..

    I enjoyed it, but your other story, The Girl in the Blue Coat, was more to my liking…

    I was trying to find Greene’s book to see if it still deserved my ‘ five stars’, but realised I had given it to a friend yeas ago; it never came back…

  31. Joseph Carli

    Another classic pass-aggres line….go away…find your own solutions….I’m over it.

  32. Joseph Carli

    Helvi’ yes…so many “affairs” can end with hate..and perhaps that is what ended the affairs…but there are sometimes in the lives of the “quieter peoples”…the “everyday citizens” of cities or towns where a simpler courtship takes place and a simpler life ensures…I remember my mother saying quite sharply to me a couple of years after my father’s death after over forty years of marriage that ..; “He broke the contract!”…So to some people, love, marriage, children and living is less a complex psychological problem than one of economic and social sustainability.

    I like Graham Greene’s stories…they have me.. a kind of brooding shadowy least the ones I have read..
    “The Girl in the Blue Dress”…(though it could very well be a coat) The picture is still there among the others on the wall of Zuma’s Cafe in the central market..but at least now, I have released her from imprisonment behind the glass…I’m glad you liked it..

    I hate that when you lend a book and it doesn’t come back!…I had a couple of lovely books that I have many a time wanted to go back into…but alas…

  33. corvus boreus

    Joseph Carli,
    I offer, not in apology, but in the spirit of general civility and a basic desire not to add to any souring of anyone’s day, to you, who has expressed appreciation of history, horses, and the beauty and art that can be achieved within perfection if a task, a minute and a half footage of a pepper-run by Lajos Kassai, probably the best horse-archer on the planet at this moment. in time.

  34. diannaart


    What about that horse, eh?

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